From Lindsey's Desk: The Prodigal Daughter

Recently, I've been thinking and focusing my research less on what makes a great leader, and more on why people, who seemingly have all the resources and faculties available to them, fail to be great leaders. 

Of course, there are some of the more obvious reasons that I see with some clients:

1. There is no inherent desire to be a great leader (often tied to no structures present to hold them accountable for ineffective or harmful behaviors)

2. Their models for leadership are flawed, e.g. they emulate people that are not leaders, they just hold leadership titles.

But what about the people who ARE intrinsically motivated to be great leaders, and hope and pray to be nothing like the old-guard in their work and life? Why are these people failing to live up to their own standards?

I very rarely speak publicly about my faith and identification as a Christian. Not because I am hiding it, or in any way of ashamed of my faith practice, but rather because as a Black woman in this world, so much of my external identity is defined for me, and justifies all manner of ill done to me, that keeping something as personal and pure as my relationship to God/Source to myself, to transverse as God and I see fit, is a small act of every day resistance.

(Upon my death, I'll leave it to you to judge if this almost 5'7", cocoa-colored, and licorice-loc'd Black woman modeled the inherent call to love and grace inherent in her faith or not... )

So why am I writing about it today...? 

Once upon a time, almost 7 years ago now, I had upturned everything in my life. To most everyone on the outside, it looked like I was just throwing away a good corporate job, a good marriage, and was simply walking away from everything I had built up to that point. 

I do not have to tell you, that no one really knows what goes on behind closed doors - and for so long I had worked hard to keep it that way-, but for many people my decisions looked brash, unwieldy, and even selfish. (That one particularly hurt, as I thought I had spent much of my life up until that point living to accommodate everyone else's hopes and dreams.)

The hardest part of this period in my life was losing the respect and support of my parents, two people whom I love and look up to as everyday heroes. They didn't get it. They didn't, couldn't, see what I saw and couldn't at that time understand that I was having my own late night conversations with my God, crying alone on the bathroom floor each night.

It was a dark, lonely time.

But...

I could not be the type of mother I am today if I had not gone on that journey.

I could not, in partnership with our entire team and our community, have built LTHJ Global if I had not gone on that journey.

I could not have believed that, 'Hey, I might actually be smart, and pretty, and even worthy of love as I am,' if I had not gone on that journey.

I tell you this story, because look, I get it. Stepping out on faith, and disrupting the status quo is SCARY AS SHIT. It can feel lonely, and hard, and some people may not come with you as you move forward. But, here's what I have (un)learned, many people will. And that is real leadership. That is what separates the people who manage people from the people who lead and inspire people to greatness - the bravery to want not just more for themselves, but for all the people around them-.

Over the weekend, I stumbled upon a clip of what I believe is one of the most soul-altering moments in the book and original film version of The Color Purple. It's the moment when Shug Avery, for so many years ostracized from her father and the church where she grew up singing and worshiping, mid-concert starts singing 'God Is Trying To Tell You Something.' At first it's a whisper in her own being, then it's a hum, and then finally a song that draws her up the road, down the lane, and bursts forth through the church doors. In the scene, we see her surrounded by a chorus of musicians, singers, and every day "sinners" that followed HER from the jut-joint into the church. 

If you're not already crying by this time, you finally collapse into tears as Shug's father, cold and distant for years, believing his daughter to be a sinner beyond reproach, finally wraps his arms around her as Shug whispers into his ears, "See Daddy, sinners have soul, too."

Click Play Below >>

Like Shug, what I can report back from the wilderness is that that call within you is not going to suddenly go away. Call it God/Source/Universe/String Theory that voice calling from within you will not be drowned out. (Believe me, I know. I've tried.)

For Shug Avery it looked like running away from her small town to pursue a life of signing and dancing.

For me it was finally admitting that I had built a life that was perfect for everyone but me.

What will your call to step out on faith to become the values-aligned leader you are meant to be look like?

Two years ago, I was home in Pittsburgh, watching Star Trek re-runs thinking that my parents and children were asleep. Just as I was mooning over another of Whoppi Goldberg's great characters, my Dad shuffled in in his thick blue robe and sat down beside me. 

We sat quietly together for a few minutes, but then he began talking. He said, somewhere in between a Tide commercial and Jean Luc Picard's delicious accent, that although he is a man of few words who often feels that he can never fully express what he wants to say, that he wanted me to know how proud he was of me. He apologized for not trusting me, and for not being able to see God's vision for me because it differed from his vision. We hugged. We cried. We healed. 

On that random Friday evening, my dad gave me the greatest gift a father can give. He gave me the gift of acknowledging that I had stepped fully into my purpose, and that it was a purpose that was bigger than just me and my initial fears.

I wish the same for you, Beloved. 

Still Curious,

Lindsey T. H. Jackson