Unlocking Takeaways from 2020: Molding My Key as a Black Mom, Wife, and Leader
As the disruptions of last year slowly start to stabilize — and many continue to quake — it’s been grounding for me to take time to understand what I’ve lost, what I’ve gained, and what I’ve learned. It took longer than anticipated to fully reflect and share my introspections with those of you who may also be sorting through experiences from the past year and making sense of where they leave you.
In the list below, I offer ten reflections that I am capturing and taking with me on my leadership journey:
1.To find purpose, you must let go of fear. I’ll admit, it’s hard for me to embark on something when I know that I may not succeed. Fear of failure can be the biggest barrier for me to take a risk, or to willingly put myself out there. It also causes analysis paralysis when I let my thoughts dwell too long on what “might” happen. However, I’ve learned that when I hesitate or hold back, it also means that I’m stifling opportunities for change, progress, and growth. To fully realize my gifts and use them to guide me toward my goals, I must be courageous. I must be willing to lead by example and to embrace imperfection. I believe that we need more brave spaces to fail — at work, among our family, in the public, and within our social networks. It’s the only way of truly being seen and living up to our full potential.
2. Meaningful relationships are my oxygen. As a woman of color, full-time nonprofit executive, wife, and mother of two, there were moments when my place in this world made it difficult to catch my breath. From witnessing the ongoing suffocation of Black lives, to donning a face mask anytime I step out into a raging pandemic, what has provided the mental and emotional oxygen necessary for me to function are the people I can rely on.
3. Caregivers deserve more support. I’m talking about parents, guardians, health workers, social workers, teachers — really anyone who cares for individuals whose well-being depends on their daily nurture, attention, and provision. It takes tremendous strength to guide others through uncertainty, scarcity, and trauma, meanwhile keeping yourself going. As a society, we must heed the fact that without harbor even the strongest rocks will get worn down. And the “rocks” who reside in the path of the heaviest waves — waves like poverty, racism, sexism, and ableism — have an even greater exposure to harm. It’s past time for us to activate the collective and political willpower necessary to provide the resources that caregivers deserve and need. They are to be protected, cherished, and supported, not under-equipped and underserved.
4. Our time is precious. I lost my uncle on Halloween last year. He was the smile in our family, the one who made it a point to send reminders to me and my cousins to join the weekly Zoom call and tease those who didn’t show up. Although he lived on the opposite coast, he was a steady presence in my life — until he was inexplicably gone. The grief is sometimes sharp since I didn’t get to say goodbye, and other times it’s a gentle weight because I’m thankful for the time we had. Most of all, it’s a familiar yet searing reminder that our time is precious. I’ve made it a daily practice to protect my time from the demands that too often pull me away from who and what I care about most.
5. The work of leadership means to accept your gifts. This statement is deceptively simple. Yes, you may know your strengths, but do you truly own them? This season has shown me that I minimize my greatest assets when I downplay their importance. It’s almost as if I’ve been searching all over to find “my purpose” without realizing that it’s already inside of me. The work of discovery means looking inward. It means paying attention to all of the things that make you, YOU, and how those things bring value to your life and the lives of others. Rather than focusing so much energy to find the “right” door to open, use this energy to mold your key. Once it’s finished, you’ll know which door to open…because it fits.
6. My heart is my superpower. Speaking your truth can be difficult, especially when doing so requires vulnerability. I’ve learned that it is ok to say “I am special” and to believe it — not in the superficial sense, but rather that my voice and contributions are important. When she was created, the comic book Wonder Woman was described as a new kind of superhero — one “who would triumph not with fists or firepower, but with love.” In this year and beyond, I plan to further wield my strengths of empathy, curiosity, and perspective for good… and use love to guide each step of the way.
7. Motherhood impacts mental health. How I wish more women were told this by their doctors during pregnancy — and shout out to the mamas who keep it 100% real. Becoming a mother means adding a new identity; however, unlike the gradual transitions of childhood, adolescence, and adulthood, this identity arrives like a tornado. New parents — especially the mother who gives birth — are often picked up and tossed wildly about in the storm. Even if you prioritize your mental health and self-care, this hits different. The trauma you didn’t realize you carried may be triggered by your child. Your energy is suddenly not enough. Your most important relationships may shift, or even fade away, to make room for your new identity. And while all of this is normal, it’s not normalized. Why?
8. Rest is crucial. I often compare and wonder at a country like America that doesn’t give people the time, support, and space to adjust during life transitions at the individual and family level. I am frustrated by how it can still justify not making systemic changes while being confronted with evidence from domestic and international policy examples. Systemic changes such as: providing a healthy amount of paid leave, creating equitable access to free childcare and quality education, and mandating that the medical industry prioritize care over profit, to name a few. I believe progress is happening, but its pace ebbs and flows. For people striving for basic human rights, civil rights, social justice, and more — please allow yourself to rest. Not because we are tired, but because we need to sustain. To give a specific example of what this looks like: when the next crisis or senseless act of injustice occurs, focus on the responses within your control that promote meaningful change and long-term momentum, not the immediate shock and outrage. The latter will burn out quickly; transformational change requires rest, radical hope, and the continual renewal of energy, focus, and action.
9. A network is one thing, a community is another. “Come as you are.” We know how powerful this authentic invitation is for creating belonging. A community comes from being with others who believe you matter and who accept you as you are. As a first generation college student and job-seeker recently told me: “I don’t want to be part of a network, I want to be part of a community.” What does that type of mindset look like on a broader scale? What would it mean for leaders — especially those from marginalized or underrepresented groups — to understand that it’s not just about who has got your business card, but who has got your back? This year, I’m encouraged to go beyond making connections in a network to instead focus on creating and deepening the relationships that make up my community.
10. Patience is a practice. My mother often tells me that she admires my patience with my daughters. I find it interesting to hear her say that when I often carry guilt about ways that I have responded to their needs, or fallen short of my own expectations. I know I’m not alone in my self-critique. The pandemic has really heightened my awareness of how easily people can extend grace to others, but not to themselves. If you are flexible and trust that others are doing the best they can, are you extending this same attitude to your own efforts? Self-acceptance, forgiveness, gratitude — all things we know are critical for well-being — can be the most difficult to put into practice. How I’m balancing children, marriage, life, and work is something I’m becoming more patient with myself about — especially in the moments I’m completely thrown off balance. Just like when you fall out of a yoga pose, the only thing to do is re-center, breathe, and try again.
I would love to know: what has been your experience in 2020 and how will you use it to guide your journey? What lessons have you learned (or re-learned)?
