WOMAN AROUND TOWN | When you Lose Your Hype Woman

Jenn Bankston
Jun 1
3 min read

| MAY 2025 | My sweet sister-in-law – Dawn – passed away this month at 53.

I shared a lot of my personal and professional highs and lows with her, and she was relentlessly positive and encouraging to me.

But it wasn’t until my dear niece, 26, wrote her tribute that I realized exactly who she was to a great many others as well - a hype woman.

In my over-caffeinated, ultra-competitive, Venti-Americano-with-a-splash-of-cream-camped-out-at-the-airport-accumulating-delays-like-they’re-frequent-flier-miles world, I have personally been confounded by the lofty rhetoric of some women who profess to mentor and support but have stolen ideas without attribution and demonstrate competitive exclusion.

Dawn was unapologetically different.

Dawn was a hype woman in the truest sense – a confidence booster and supporter who reveled in your successes.

I met Dawn exactly half my lifetime ago. Warm and inviting with an infectious laugh, Dawn loved to talk - but not about herself. It took many years before she shared with me her own story – a former homecoming queen with very real business and life goals and successes. This was more than likely because of the simple fact that she was always busy lifting everyone else up.

She had a career and was a top performer year-over-year in her company. But what defined Dawn was her innate ability to find a thread of positivity in every situation – and pull on it. A difficult co-worker or someone trying to take credit for her work product? She chalked it up as a learning experience, never a quest to exact revenge.

When I ascended to a “Chief” level role, there she was – supportive, inquisitive, and congratulatory. If I told her a story about someone going for the jugular, or turning every moment into a battlefield, or not crediting my work to their advantage, Dawn poked and prodded with heart, not heat.

Family, though not always simple or easy, was central to her existence.

We lived far apart, but we spent hours on the phone. From every pirouette our niece took in her ballet slippers to every fast ball or javelin she threw to every starring theatre role or grade our nephew achieved, to their challenges with classes, papers, and friends, Dawn both beamed and sought advice.

If Dawn was a candle fragrance, you wouldn’t have to change the name. That placid time of day when the birds announce the new light with a morning song and fill the skies with the soothing noise of the feathered wings, when city streets hum quietly, where bakeries (if anyone eats bagels and muffins anymore) smell just so inviting,

When I was blessed late in life with a child, she looked out for our daughter – as with all her nieces and nephews – as her own.

She’d stay up night after night burning the midnight oil with her side hustle of delectable cookies and cake balls for family members, various sports teams, baby showers, weddings, delighting all. Even with inflation, she never raised her prices, wanting all to enjoy her carefully curated bites of goodness.

And, unlike some of the people I’ve described above, Dawn competed with no one. In the 27 years I knew her, I never heard her utter a disparaging comment about anyone. Why? Because she chose purpose over pettiness. There was no vengeance, no gossip.

For their 20th wedding anniversary, my husband and I met our brother-in-law and sister-in-law in Las Vegas so they could renew their vows. After the ceremony, our lovely Elvis impersonator who officiated the wedding ceremony serenaded us. Dawn took her husband’s hand and toId him she held everything she needed.

This past New Year’s Eve, Dawn was rushed to the hospital with a devastating diagnosis, Stage IV endometrial cancer. The president of her large company showed up and made sure those who wanted to sit with her during her chemo treatments could have the time and space they needed. There were meal trains and friends who tended her yard during her brief battle with cancer.

She used every ounce of her flame and fought with dignity but passed away just four and a half months later.

The hype woman gave her light until her passing. But her lessons are not lost.

I went to the farmer’s market yesterday. Someone was selling handmade candles in more than two dozen fragrances. I spent more than an hour sniffing every jar.

I wept openly.

Because none smelled like a combination of morning dew, freshly baked goods, positivity, and the absence of weight and sullenness. None smelled like the essence of our hype woman. She is already sorely missed but is never going to be forgotten.