freedom

How Being the Smartest in the Room is Doing a Disservice to Your Growth

3/25/2018

They say if you're the smartest in the room, then you're in the wrong room. This past weekend I was able to fully digest that thought.

In a world where almost everyone aspires to be thought leaders in their field, it's hard to find anyone willing to not be the smartest. Demanding respect has come on account of appearing to know it all. With the rise of social media, people go to great lengths to portray excellence, even amidst great brokenness. It's as if the only way to secure your space in such a competitive market, is to be the smartest. To know it all. To be all things.

When a group of high school friends and I planned to get together for what we called a Think Tank, I was excited to be in a room with others who were passionate about pursuing purpose outside of our workspace. Three of the four of us were working on building non-profit organizations. Having worked in the non-profit sector previously, I knew that there was loads of guidance I could offer; I wasn't quite sure the same could be returned.

I am the only content curator in the group. The only one whose brand isn't mainly rooted in programming, but in upliftment through the use of story-telling and principles of spirituality. See, my work is slightly different. Aside from my holiday homeless initiative, much of my work is about breaking down people's walls and rebuilding them—internally. The self-work I inspire is hard to capture and much harder to explain. I wasn't sure how my friends—who all dedicate their brands to giving back to the community in ways that are much easier to track, through financial and in-kind contributions—could offer me counsel for a brand that essentially does the opposite.

Regardless, I went in with optimism. As we all went around the room and explained what we were up to, I was reminded of the differences of our approaches. Listening to my friends share their programming ideas and fundraising goals was both exciting and discouraging. I didn't have anything so grand; shoot, I was still struggling to identify ways to measure impact (which is my biggest assessment of whether or not my content is actually producing change in the lives of women).

I walked in thinking I'd be the smartest—or at least like I'd have the most to offer—based solely on my previous knowledge and experience in non-profit work and their unfamiliarity with the realm of content curation. I left, however, appreciative that I didn't. In fact, after our meeting, I felt like I needed to head back to the drawing board, to address my inability to capture the essence of my brand, something I had no idea was a problem of mine. I couldn't break down DEAR QUEENS with confident clarity like my friends could with their endeavors. It was in that realization that I recognized the beauty of what we were doing. 

Despite them not knowing much about content curation, they were able to provide insight that I'd long needed. Insight that I probably wouldn't have received anywhere else but in that room. 

My friends unknowingly inspired me to dig deeper into a brand that I swore was already complete. They unintentionally pushed me to ask myself the hard questions, to truly uncover what in the broadness I really wanted to conquer. They unconsciously motivated me to be very clear about the direction I wanted to take DEAR QUEENS, and the ways in which I was going to take her there.

None of us were the smartest in the room that day. None of us knew more than the other. None of us offered more or less—we all simply offered different.

As much as society wants to encourage you to know it all, you simply cannot. You'd be doing a disservice to yourself to fill your room with a bunch of people just like you, doing the same thing as you, knowing the same thing as you, for the sake of having a conversation rooted in similarity. There's much more insight in our differences. There is far more wisdom in our diversity. There is incredible growth in our ability to tap into our individual experiences and expertise for the sake of sharing with others. And once you eliminate your desire to be the smartest in the room by accepting the dissimilarities of your associates, you'll be able to experience the true beauty of collaborative thought and constructive feedback.

When you're the smartest in the room—or at least when you perceive yourself to be—you shut yourself off from learning. You deny yourself the opportunity to connect with minds that can take you to new heights. You refuse yourself the resources needed to grow yourself, and/or your brand. You assume that no one in the same space as you can offer you anything additional. And as flattering as it may feel to already be equipped with all the knowledge you need, you risk being stagnant by not exploring the thoughts of others. By not allowing your ideas to be questioned, and holes to be poked in your theories. By not wanting to be exposed to new thoughts that could improve your own.

So never rush to be the smartest in the room just so you can secure a seat at the table. Instead, recognize that your greatest contribution lies not in being the 'smartest' but in providing a different perspective. Learn to rest in the beauty of not being the 'smartest', and welcome insight from others. And learn to be okay in spaces where everyone is just as smart as, or smarter, than you. Because sis, great lessons are learned there.

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growth

What My Career Change Taught Me About Trusting God's Positioning

3/08/2018

In May 2017 I started a new career. Breaking from my academic and professional background in marketing, communications, and community engagement, I dove head first into student affairs. I shamed both my degrees and began utilizing my transferable skills in a brand new environment: higher education.

I was excited to begin inspiring change at my institution, for the sake of creating and improving the graduate student experience. I was ready to fully embrace this new professional passion.

I joined Facebook groups, attended local conferences, and participated in discussions with other entry-to-mid-level professionals. None of that, however, equipped me for the way I'd feel in this new role.

After months of hard work, and doing tons of work above my title and experience level - all while thanking God for the ability to dominate and conquer any task put before me - I still felt like I had no idea how to navigate this new space. There were new people to network with, new lingo to adopt, new types of conflict - none of which I was quite sure how to manage.

I knew that I was strategic enough to handle the work; I was well-versed in event planning, strategic development, resource development, and had a certain 'umph' for identifying and resolving high-level problems. But there were things in this new space that I wasn't too sure of. Polices and procedures that, outside of common sense, I wasn't sure were ethical in this new field. Research that I had no idea about, that dramatically impacted the transition from student services to student affairs. Researchers whose work was what many SA offices based their work around, that I was not keen to. A new bureaucracy that I had to figure out - vastly different from the municipal and non-profit bureaucracy I was used to. Things that, when interviewing, I was led to believe my leaders would teach me. Hint: they weren't teaching me a thing. 

Regardless, I carried on everyday putting my best foot forward, and opening myself up to learning new things, and generating creative ideas. I was left to my own devices to be brought up to speed on all things student affairs - including the most common themes and challenges. I had to both identify common trends in this new field, and identify ways to either implement them, sustain them, or modify them to be more effective for our unique student base.

I started by thinking critically about my why, believing that once I figured that out, I could begin teaching myself things that mattered most. I identified why I wanted to, in the long haul, improve student support for students of the African diaspora, not just through academic and social resources, but through holistic approaches to student wellness and success post-grad. I wanted to provide minority students with access to resources and opportunities from the minute they accepted admittance, to the minute the accepted their degree. I held onto that why for dear life, constantly reflecting on it through every stage of this new process. But despite my thirst for learning, and my big ideas, I often found myself questioning how I'd get there. How would I one day make it in this big space, to my dream position, without any educational background or real professional footing? 

That question still replays in my head from time-to-time.

Being in a completely new career field than the one I was academically and professional prepped for, I've been grappling with the reality of not knowing how to position myself in this new space. I've been struggling with feeling unqualified to serve in the positions I desire most. I've been wrestling with whether or not I will ever be a thought leader in a space I hadn't ever imagined being in. I've been wondering if the work, without the research, would be enough to sustain myself professionally, as I attempt to climb the ranks. Am I enough for this new field, or will I, at some point, find myself way over my head? 

As I've been whispering these questions to myself silently, God has been responding to them - loudly. In this season of transition (in more ways than one), God has been calling me to trust His positioning.

See, when I started this job, I had no prior experience in the field. I applied to the position on a whim, because I was fed up with where I was. Upon starting my last position, I knew the route I wanted to take was student affairs. I was, at the time, working with alums, and knew that their engagement as alums, relied heavily on their time as students. I wanted to make the student experience so impactful, that as they transitioned to the working world, they'd always remember the institution that served them for however many years. So when this coordinator position popped up, I jumped at it. Though I had no experience in the work, I got the job; and since starting, I've been working my butt off to prove myself worthy enough to be there. I hit the ground running and have gotten experience in my first few months, that some people in similar positions may never get. I wasn't upset at the workload, I was invigorated. I wanted to do more. I wanted to grow more. 

It's not until I recall these moments - moments where I have flourished beyond my own belief, in a field I had no prior experience in, recommending, creating, and implementing dynamic new programs and resources - that I find myself most affirmed in my ability to go further in this industry. It's in recognizing God's strategy, that I realize that this position - and the people I work for - isn't by happenstance. It's God's reminder to me, that I am equipped, and that I can do it. It's only in understanding the pressure placed on me and successfully thriving through it, that I truly realize the unique calling I have to do this work.

In between battling myself about my ability, and speaking with God about my position, there were a few things I needed to know to navigate myself with confidence. I had to recognize that, regardless of my educational and/or professional background, what I may think of my ability to serve in this new field, and the networks I do or do not yet have, God's plan will make room for me. That, whether I have the credentials or not, God's will will manifest. That, whether I feel adequately prepared or not, God's way will always reign supreme. That, no matter how many questions I ask myself about this new professional pursuit, God will always take me to the place that is meant for me.  And that's something that impostor syndrome can never take.

My position in this space has nothing to do with my qualifications but my calling. And, regardless of what job descriptions say, I will always be granted the opportunity to serve in the place God has called me to. The thoughts that infiltrate my mind are irrelevant to the moves God is making in my life, professionally and in every other area. And for as long as I say 'yes' to Him, He will always put me in places that allow me to tap into my true power.

God wanted to remind me that His positioning is what matters most in this - and any - space. That any place He puts me, is a place worth being. And that I need nothing else but obedience to get there.

This reminder is all I needed to recognize that me forging my space in this new field is God's work. It provided me with a confirmation I needed to revisit, that I am exactly where I ought to be. It gave me an assurance that no matter what I may endure here, I am equipped to handle it. And it settled me with a Christ-like peace knowing that whatever space God has planned for me next is already mine.

So to you, an outsider to wherever you may be right now...To you, who feels unqualified and undeserving...To you, standing at the crossroad of uncertainty and self-proclaimed incompetence...To you, in a very new space, unsure if you'll make it, I want you to know that you will. I want you to remember that God has strategically placed you there, and has purposefully equipped you for that place. I want you to identify God's calling for your life, and never forget that He will bring it to fruition. And I want you to know that you are not an impostor, you are positioned.

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Christ

From the End Goal, Backward

3/01/2018

I recently read a career article that shifted not only the way I thought about my career trajectory, but the way I thought about my life. In an attempt to learn more about my new career field, I wanted to know the best tips and tricks to navigate through this very new, very unfamiliar place.

"Identify your end goal, then work backward." It seemed pretty straightforward; figure out where you want to end up, then identify what it will take to get there. It was simple, yet effective. Duh! I whispered to myself. There was something so profound about that simple suggestion, yet I was alarmed that I hadn't thought of it myself.

Many times, at least in my own experience, I apply to jobs that I think would best suit me, without forging a clear path to my end goal. Part of that was because I was still exploring where exactly I wanted to end up. The other part was filled with uncertainty of if I'd actually ever end up there. But this advice provided clear strategy: identify what you want, identify how to get it, then do that stuff. It couldn't get much easier than that - at least not at this level of planning. Recognizing that our plan may not always be the plan, this was a good starting place to be well on my way toward professional success and fulfillment.

I hadn't expected this same premise to flood into a strategy for pure salvation, too.

In a conversation with my union-rep-turned-sister-in-Christ about career progression, I referenced the article and was immediately slapped with an unignorable revelation.

What if we approached our salvation in the same way? From the end goal, backward.

While many of us pursue salvation for different reasons, our desired end goal should be the same: eternal life in heaven. Every bit of our self-work, our prayers, our refinement, our ministry, is to lead others and ourselves to a thriving relationship with Christ, with hopes of one day experiencing eternal freedom with our Creator. What if we strategize for this pursuit the same way we do our careers - by identifying what we want, and discerning how to get there?

What if, every day you woke up, you thought of your end goal, eternal life in heaven, and only did things that would get you there? What if you allowed that thought to dictate how you handle life? People? Temptation? Obedience? What if you used that very powerful goal, to establish your life's plan?

Much of this spiritual journey is about changing the way we think. So many of us feel burdened by Christ-like living, that it appears to be more like a prison, than a pursuit of freedom. When we don’t see immediate results from dedicating ourselves to Him, we are quickly (and easily) disappointed. But if our end goal is eternal life, we must recognize that it will take a while to get there and none of us should rush to that fate. Instead, we should fix our minds to live for this goal. We should carry ourselves in a manner that supports this pursuit. We should navigate ourselves with this at the forefront of our minds, fixating our thoughts, words, and deeds only to things that would bring about this end. We should cast to damnation everything that goes against this goal, rebuking our flesh and operating, instead, with a pure heart and the Holy Spirit.

Just like you wouldn't sell yourself short for your dream job, you shouldn't sell yourself short for eternal life, either. Pursue the Kingdom or die trying. 

So as you continue to pursue salvation, identify purpose, and work toward an unshakable relationship with Christ, I urge you to consider whether the people, things, and habits you're entertaining are advancing you toward your goal. I advise you to reflect on whether or not your decisions and behaviors will grant you access to God's kingdom. I encourage you to reflect honestly and openly about the destiny your current life is leading you toward. And I implore you to identify if any of it is worth it; if the sex, or the lies, or the gluttony, or the greed, or the theft, or the hatred, or the anger, or the foul tongue, or the loose lips, or the bitterness, or the pride, or the lust, or the disobedience, or the envy is worth forfeiting your end goal.

Much like my career strategy changed after reading the initial article, my strategy for intentionally sustaining my salvation and managing my purpose shifted, too. I thought less about how my obedience would make me look to others, or make me feel internally, and focused more on how thrilled I will be when I enter those pearly gates. I stopped fighting God's plan, and started accepting it delightfully. I aligned myself with people and activities that would glorify and please God. None of this is without fail, though. Changing habits and attitudes take work. But beginning that work is imperative.

So as I accept this revelation as an opportunity for renewal, and reconnecting my heart to God in a new and exciting way, I dedicate myself to not only living a Christ-filled life, but I dedicate my life to serving God so that He utters the ever-most powerful words. Whether it's at the gate, or in this very present place, I base the foundation of my life upon hearing God say, "well done, my good and faithful servant." I aspire for my life to provide much joy and purpose to His kingdom. And, I will live in a way that warrants my one-way ticket to eternal life in heaven.

I'll be working my way from that end goal, backward.

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