In Melinda French Gates’s new book, The Next Day, she illuminates the importance of knowing “the story that you are writing for yourself.” After turning 60, leaving The Gates Foundation, and beginning a new chapter in her philanthropy, I was curious about the story that she is authoring. What are French Gates’s new dreams?
“My new dreams are to lift women up generationally,” she says. “So, the world is different when my granddaughters enter the workforce. There are barriers that we need to break down, things about women’s health that we should be exploring, and opportunities that are more limited for women. I would love for many of those things to be easier for my granddaughters than they were for me or even my daughters.”
A central premise of her book is that: During transitions, “the real work starts the next day.” It’s one that French Gates has fully embodied since departing The Gates Foundation in 2024, which she cofounded and cochaired for over two decades.
When she announced her departure in May, she committed an additional $1 billion to advance women’s power and influence (totaling her commitment to $2 billion through her organization Pivotal). In October, they launched a $250 million global open call to fund organizations improving women’s health. Two months later, came a $150 million commitment to remove barriers for women in the workplace. French Gates is just getting started.
The Next Day is an intimate portrayal of the transitions that she has faced personally and professionally and a road map to navigate your own. Here, she discusses knowing which dreams to let go of, pausing in the liminal space, and releasing perfectionism.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
In your Stanford commencement speech, you said: “Resist the idea that anything you’ve done here has already locked you into any one path—or any one kind of life or career . . . And be willing to let what you learn shift your thinking about what you’re on this earth to do.” What have you learned about the evolution of one’s purpose?
I’ve learned so much. I came out of college thinking I am going to be in tech. I was in tech for nine years. I loved my career. I had no idea that I would go into global health, global development, learning about the U.S. education system, and issues for women.
What I’ve learned through that process is that you need to keep an ear open and listen to others along the way. What do they have to teach you? What are they bringing to you? Is there a theme to it?
At the same time, you need to listen to your inner voice: What is it calling you to do, even if what it’s calling you to do is hard? I remember when I helped lead a family planning summit in London on behalf of women. I had dinner with a group of women afterwards, most of whom I didn’t know, and they said: There’s so much more to do. It wasn’t at all what I wanted to hear at the time. But, I still listened to what they were telling me. Then, to my own inner voice about: Well, how could I do it? How quickly or slowly should I go?
During transitions, you encourage pausing in the liminal space to see what it has to reveal to you. How do you “treat the unfamiliar as a teacher, instead of an enemy”?
Being willing to sit there when it’s uncertain or you’re anxious, those are the times that you’re growing. You have to remind yourself: I’m going to learn something here. Our instinct is to rush to the next thing. I’ve seen so many people make that mistake when they’re leaving a career to start something new. They’ll rush to the next thing and pick the wrong thing. Then, they’ll have to change course two years later; Versus stay with it and figure out what you want to do, even when it’s uncomfortable.
You write: “Sometimes the best thing you can do for yourself and the people around you is to have the wisdom to know which dreams to let go of, in order to make room for something new.” What helps you navigate the difficulty of letting go?
Naming it out loud: This is hard for me. I think I should let this go. Sometimes, the first thing I do when something bubbles up and I’m like, Hmm, I’m not sure, is write it down. Then, I can’t run away from it. I’ll maybe run away from it for a week or two. Then, you’ll come back and remember. Once I’ve written it down, that seed is there. Then, I let it grow and see where it goes.
Do you go back and read what you wrote?
Definitely and, in the book, I talk about my Monday walking group. We’ve been walking together for so long now. They’ll say: “Remember when you said this?” We plant pieces of ourselves in those we trust. It’s up to them and us (for people who plant those things in us) to remind ourselves of those things.
Returning to the idea of letting go, has there been a time, like leaving The Gates Foundation, when your identity was tied up in what you were leaving? How did you reconcile who you were without it?
I’ve wrestled with it many times, leaving the Foundation for sure. But, the biggest time was: I absolutely knew that I was going to leave my career at Microsoft to raise my children; That was my decision. I knew I would go back to work, but it wasn’t until I actually left my job [that I felt it]. I had to leave three weeks early and was on bed rest unexpectedly. Then, I have this baby and I’m totally in love with her. But, all of a sudden it was like: Whoa, who am I without work? I’m a mother, which I always wanted to be and I love this. But, I’m not working. Am I a productive member of society? I used to view work as productive and being home as not productive, which is silly now when I think about it. But, in those times, at least for me, they would become almost a crisis. It was something that I needed to spend time with, work through, and recognize: This is a big shift. You’ll get through it.
In writing about perfectionism, you express that you always wanted to do things the “right way,” which was almost always the hard way. How did you rewire that belief and how do you operate differently as a result?
It took me a long time to realize: There is no perfect. But, what I do know is: If you’re true to yourself, it doesn’t have to be perfect. I had a speech on a big stage in Geneva. I tripped when I was walking out to the podium. I didn’t fall down all the way. But, I tripped pretty substantially, to the point where I heard people gasp. You look around and realize: There’s a hall of 1,500 people here. But, I’m human. I think my words will still be received. The more I could be vulnerable with and love myself, and the more I could then be vulnerable with other people, it allowed for more space for them and for me—and the perfectionism drops.
The last line of that chapter is to “allow yourself to feel the ease of letting go.” What is one step you’d encourage taking to do so?
When I’m trying to let go of something, I’ll remember the mistakes I’ve made and try to laugh about them. If I can laugh about some of the mistakes I’ve made over time, then I can let go of the thing that I am trying to hold onto so dearly.
I also remember that if you let go of something, it makes space for something else. Sometimes, it’s moving people out of your life. You’re not serving them well or they’re not serving you well. Saying—Well, maybe I don’t see them quite as much—makes space for a new friend or to have time for yourself.
You write about a shift in perspective where you no longer prepared for or entered meetings wondering whether you belonged there. How can you overcome imposter syndrome when you’re the youngest person in the room?
Reminding yourself: You deserve to be there. You don’t always know how you got there. But, don’t question that. You deserve to be there and you must have something to contribute; Maybe you have a different perspective because you’re younger, your lived experience, or where you grew up. Remind yourself that there are other people at the table who are also feeling that. You feel it inside and think that no one else does. It turns out that most of them, who are honest, feel that way themselves.
What was it like when you stopped feeling that way?
It’s a relief. It creates more space in your mind to focus on other things or in your life to let go and go: This is who I am. I’ve also learned that I can ask people for help. If you don’t expect yourself to be perfect, you can ask people for what you need or be willing to ask what looks like a dumb question; Sometimes, the question that you’re afraid to ask ends up opening a whole new conversation. I’ve had that happen to me so many times. It’s like: Wow, that worked. So, I’ll try to remember: The previous time you did that, it was an opening.
Transitions are an opportunity to evolve yourself. How are you thinking about that as you enter this next chapter?
I hope that I’m evolving all the time. I try to think about: At the end of 10 years, what will I be most proud of and glad that I did? If I can take that 10-year horizon, then it’s easier for me to parse how I spend my time.
One of the things I’m often saying to myself now is: “You are in a new phase of your career. Make sure you’re bringing in new people and hearing from new voices.” It’s not always easy to meet new people or listen to people who have a different point of view. But, I remember when my mom got to this phase of life, she said to me (and she’s still this way): “I want to learn from young people’s perspectives. Otherwise, if I only have friends who are my age, then I don’t know what’s coming up in society.” So, I’ve been challenging myself in that regard, too: How do I make sure that I am in a setting with younger people? What questions come up? I try to ask a question and let them generate the conversation or topics.
During destabilizing times, your voice is a source of stability. What helps you cultivate your sense of inner resource and embody that steadiness?
My spiritual group and my quiet time in the morning. Those things help ground me, so that when I am ready to go out and do the work that I try to do in the world or use my voice, I’m hopefully in a centered place. But, you have to be very purposeful about it, because the world can tug on you. Then, you don’t show up at the spiritual group meeting or spend time in quiet in the morning. I encourage people to figure out what’s stilling for them, put away their phone, and get that quiet time.