top of page

Choice, Not Chance

  • Deevo Tindall
  • 5 days ago
  • 8 min read
Choice Not Chance podcast, Charlene Wheeless!

Charlene Wheeless spent 33 years as the person companies called when everything was on fire, she ran global communications for businesses worth up to $40 billion, walked more than a dozen mergers all the way through to the other side, she rebuilt brands until the market paid a premium to believe in them. She was, by every definition, the woman who controlled the story.


Then her body wrote one she could not spin.


This is episode 100 of The Brand Lab, and it felt right to mark the milestone with a conversation that goes further than most of what we cover here. Charlene is now a leadership strategist, keynote speaker, and bestselling author, and the framework she built out of the hardest years of her life, choice not chance, is what this entire episode is built around.


The Cheerleading Tryout That Started It All


The origin of choice not chance goes back to a junior high school gymnasium in Oakland, California, when Charlene was 12 years old, she grew up in what she calls the ghetto of the ghetto, raised primarily by her mother after her parents separated, and she describes feeling invisible for most of her early childhood. Then her family rented a house from an Oakland Raiders player, who gave them tickets to a game, and something in Charlene lit up watching the players under the lights so, in that moment, she decided cheerleading was going to be her way out of invisibility.


She tried out, and made the team as the fourth alternate, which in practice meant she had not made the team at all. She had already started resigning herself to being nobody, again, when the sponsor pulled her aside and moved her ahead of the other alternates, she couldn’t figure out why and when she asked, the answer became the moment her entire life mantra was born.


“Charlene, you were one of the best girls who tried out, but you're black. And I thought you'd be a troublemaker, so I didn't want you on the team. But now that I've gotten to know you, I see that you're a nice little girl.”  — Charlene Wheeless

That sentence, delivered to a 12-year-old, became her first real experience of choice as the concrete realization that if she did not define herself, other people would define her, and their definition would not work in her favor, at that time, she didn’t have the language for it, and it would take another 40 years before she could name what that day had actually taught her.


Be Who They Want You to Be: Forty Years of the Wrong Mantra


For the four decades between that cheerleading gym and the moment everything changed, Charlene's operating mantra was different, and she says it plainly: be who they want you to be in order to be successful. She became, in her own words, the perfect Black female executive, someone who learned to blend into what she describes as a sea of blue, brown, gray, and black, both literally in the colors she wore to work and figuratively in how much of herself she muted to be acceptable in rooms that were not built for her.


The cost of that muting arrived all at once, Charlene was diagnosed with uterine cancer, had a full hysterectomy, and went back to work a week later without thinking much of it…six months after that, she was diagnosed with an advanced stage of breast cancer and told her treatment would take seven months so her first instinct, honed over decades of executive thinking, was to treat it like a project with a deadline, but her doctor sat her down and told her that instinct would kill her.


“If you work during your treatment, you're not going to make it. You will not live the seven months that's required.”  — Charlene Wheeless

Charlene stopped working, her treatment stretched from a projected seven months to almost five years and it was inside that stretch of forced stillness, stripped of the executive identity she had built her entire adult life around, that the real crisis began since she was no longer an executive, she was a sick person. Two and a half years in, when she finally returned to work, she saw for the first time everything she had been turning herself inside out to tolerate, and she realized she no longer wanted to be the woman who had tolerated it.


The Emotional Death Before the Physical One


Charlene draws a distinction in this conversation that most cancer narratives skip entirely: the difference between the physical death that cancer threatens and the emotional death that comes from losing the identity you built your entire value around. She describes coming home one day and telling her husband she was going to have a nervous breakdown if she did not leave her company, and when he asked if she planned to become an executive somewhere else, her answer cut straight to the center of the crisis.


“I don't have it in me anymore. And if that's what my value was wrapped up in, what do I have left?”  — Charlene Wheeless

She is candid about something almost nobody discusses openly about surviving cancer: the depression that follows the survival, and the total absence of permission most survivors are given to feel it. Everyone around her expected gratitude and relief but what she actually felt was closer to wanting to die, not from the cancer itself, but from the unbearable weight of not recognizing the life that remained once the disease was gone. She had spent decades defining her worth through high performance, and once that performance was interrupted by illness, she had no other foundation to stand on.


What she names as the real catalyst is not the physical diagnosis alone, it is what she calls choosing chance for 40 years, living out of alignment, absorbing stress and pressure and inauthenticity as the default cost of success, until her body finally registered the bill. She is unflinching about the connection she draws between decades of performing a persona and the disease that eventually forced her to stop.


“There is a tremendous amount of energy that goes into waking up every day, putting on a persona, putting on armor, showing up the way you need to show up that may not be you. All of that drains, I believe, the energy your body needs to fight off cancer cells.”  — Charlene Wheeless

Culture Fit vs. Culture Contributor, Trailblazer vs. Rebel


One of the clearest frameworks Charlene offers for anyone still inside the corporate machine is the distinction between being a culture fit and being a culture contributor. She spent three decades trying to be the former, and she is direct about the cost: a culture fit joins an organization and shapes themselves around whatever the existing culture already rewards, a culture contributor brings something the culture did not already have, and in doing so, actually changes the room rather than disappearing into it.


She is equally precise about a second distinction that gets flattened too often: the difference between being a trailblazer and being a rebel. When I suggested the two words were close to synonyms, Charlene corrected me immediately.


“Rebellion comes a little bit out of anger, a little bit out of naivete, and probably a bit out of a lack of self-awareness. Being a trailblazer is, you know, that job I had where I cried the whole commute home. I was the first Black female executive in that company, and I knew that if I succeeded, I am paving the way for other people. That is being a trailblazer. Being rebellious is basically giving the middle finger to everything and saying, I'm going to do it my way. That's just being difficult.”  — Charlene Wheeless

The trailblazer endures discomfort with a purpose beyond themselves whilehe rebel resists for the sake of resisting. Charlene's entire 33-year career, including the job she describes crying through every day for the first six months and then staying at for ten years, was trailblazing, not rebellion, and she is unwilling to let the two get confused, because the distinction is what allowed her to survive rooms that were actively hostile to her presence without losing herself entirely inside the survival.


What She Regrets Most, and What America Gets Wrong About Strength


In the hot seat round near the end of the conversation, I asked Charlene a simple question: is there anything you are still apologizing to yourself for. Her answer is one of the most honest moments in the entire episode.


When she was sick, both of her daughters moved home, every day, she put on the bravest face she could manage for them and when they left the room, she fell apart. What she did not realize until much later was that her daughters were falling apart too, once they left, absorbing the same performance of strength she had modeled for them without ever seeing what it actually cost her to maintain it.


“I had an opportunity to show them that it was okay to be vulnerable, that you could still be strong and hurt. And I didn't do that. I so regret that.”  — Charlene Wheeless

She connects this personal regret to something larger about American culture specifically: a pervasive shame around asking for help, around visible vulnerability, around admitting to being out of control or depressed. She names this pattern as fundamentally masculine energy, not in a way that indicts men individually, but as a description of the operating system most professional environments run on, one that rewards the appearance of invincibility and punishes anyone who admits they are not fine.


Charlene today, six years into what she calls this new operating mode, describes the difference from her corporate peak in terms that have nothing to do with achievement, she doesn’t wake up needing to prove she belongs in the room nor does she tone down what she wears, how she shows up, or how much space she takes. Her number one business value, stated without qualification, is simple: do not work with assholes, a small sentence carrying the full weight of everything the first 33 years cost her to learn.


Key Takeaways

  • A single sentence at age 12 can shape four decades of behavior before you ever have the language to name what happened. Choice not chance began in a cheerleading tryout and was not fully understood until a cancer diagnosis 40 years later.

  • The emotional death that comes from losing an identity built entirely around performance can be more disorienting than the physical death a diagnosis threatens, both deserve to be named and grieved.

  • Culture fit and culture contributor are not the same thing, and spending decades trying to be the former is one of the most expensive mistakes a talented person can make.

  • Trailblazing and rebellion look similar from a distance and are not the same. One endures discomfort with a purpose beyond the self, the other resists for the sake of resisting.

  • Modeling constant strength for the people you love can rob them of permission to be vulnerable themselves…sometimes the most protective thing you can show someone is that you are not okay.

  • Some of the most insecure people in any organization are sitting at the very top of it, afraid of losing the title, the influence, and the things that came to stand in for their own worth.


About Charlene Wheeless


Charlene Wheeless spent 33 years running global communications for businesses worth up to $40 billion and guided more than a dozen mergers to completion. After surviving two cancers diagnosed within six months of each other, she left corporate to become a leadership strategist, keynote speaker, and bestselling author. Her framework, choice not chance, now guides C-suite leaders and executives who are ready to stop running their lives on default. Find her on LinkedIn or at http://www.charlenewheeless.com/


Listen to the Full Conversation


This episode of The Brand Lab covers identity, cancer, corporate performance, authenticity, and what it actually costs to spend decades being who other people need you to be, it is our 100th episode, and it earns that milestone.


🎧 LISTEN TO THE FULL EPISODE:

Available on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, YouTube, and all major platforms.

Connect with Charlene Wheeless on LinkedIn or at http://www.charlenewheeless.com/

Follow The Brand Lab and connect with Deevo at thebrandstoryteller.com




Comments


bottom of page