Remembering Malcolm

I’ve been meditating a lot on leadership lately.

On what it means, on how you come to be one, on the leaders I respect and admire. 

It’s not for nothing. I’ve been in a leadership training class at work for almost 6 months now. So it’s a theme that I’m engrossed in regularly. I remember one of the first questions posed to the class of middle and senior managers: Are leaders born or made?

It seemed an obvious answer to me. Leaders are made. It was therefore quite surprising to see an unexpected number of my classmates respond that leaders are born that way. It revealed more than I cared to explore at that time. 

In a different leadership session, with a different group of people, we were asked to bring 2 pictures of leaders who inspired us. I brought a picture of this man. Provocative, yes. But true.

A photo of a young Malcolm X, smiling

Malcolm has been an inspirational example of leadership for me since I read his autobiography in high school. Primarily because he and his life is a testament that becoming a leader is a process, perhaps a neverending one, but definitely one that will require you to stretch beyond your current boundaries, master a new level of skills and discipline, use that to accomplish great things, and then repeat the cycle again.

In his early life, Malcolm was an orphan, a pimp, a numbers runner, a thief, a convict. When that life had taken him as far as it could, a new life possibility was presented to him. He accepted and became a scholar, an orator, a community organizer, a husband, a father, a hero to some, and a villainous nuisance to others. When he was effectively cast out of that life, Malcolm was forced yet again to create a new life for himself - the first one he would create of his own volition, not just as a reaction to his environment and circumstances. It’s this life that we know the least about, because it was cut short before he could bring his newly defined self into full existence. 

At each stage of his life, however, Malcolm was a leader. He distinguished himself among both lowlifes and high-born with a natural charisma and a willingness to ‘take the weight’. So, then... are leaders like Malcolm born? Or are they made?

We are all born with everything that we need to achieve greatness. But we must be made ready through the experiences life presents us and the ways we respond to them. This is the lesson that Malcolm Little, aka Detroit Red, aka Satan, aka, Malcolm X, aka, El Hajj Malik El Shabazz taught me.

It’s the reason why I brought a picture of him into a corporate classroom, and it’s one of the many reasons that I, and many others will take a few moments of time today to celebrate the anniversary of his birth.

Happy birthday, brother Malcolm.

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Covid chronicles: 5 ways my life has changed since the shutdown

I remember saying to more than one person during the initial weeks of the Covid-19 quarantine, “My life hasn’t really changed that much since we’ve been on lockdown.”

In many ways that remains true. But after 4 weeks of following shelter-in-place orders, there have been some pretty interesting developments that would not have happened otherwise.

Back from a bike run to my neighborhood corner grocery story for wine and snacks.

1. Life is more ‘village like’. I have a much smaller footprint these days. I stay in my ‘hood, and when I can, I make my store runs on foot or bike. I haven’t been to a big box store since before the shutdown. I’ve been able to get all I need from the Dollar General down the block, the neighborhood ‘bodega’, and the discount grocery store that’s 6 minutes away by car.  (Update: I finally broke down and went to Home Depot for plants last week. I stayed outside.)

2. I now have 2 cats. Sometime between the first and second weeks of quarantine, my cat showed up with a newfound friend at the back door for his morning feeding. ‘How nice,’ I thought, ‘even kitty is getting into the spirit of sharing and sacrifice for the greater good. We have extra. We can share for a few days.”

That was over 3 weeks ago.

3. My outdoor spaces are my sanity’s salvation. I rarely sat at my desk when I was working in an office, yet when I first started working from home full time, that’s exactly what I did. A few long work days of staying tied to my desk, and I not only had a literal pain in the neck, I felt like a caged mouse. After seeing one of my team leads join a call from the back porch of her cabin, I felt inspired to do the same. I started taking more and more calls from outside on my back porch. Thankfully, the area I live in has lots of birds and spring wildlife on display, so I now feel like I’m working from a park - I get lots of natural sunlight, fresh air, and get to do cool things like this while I’m working:

Hangin’ with the carpenter bees.

4. I’ve decided to go camping. I take 1-2 solo camping trips a year, and they’re one of my favorite ways to unplug and recharge. When I solo camp, I may be somewhat isolated, but I’m never cooped up. I spend a lot of the day near, but outside of the tent or yurt. So I’ve decided to take that perspective while being quarantined. I now do much more of my ‘daily living’ outside. I cook outside, have my morning coffee, read, work, listen to music, nap. And every day, almost all day, I keep multiple windows and doors in the house open. This keeps the inside air feeling fresh and allows me to easily move between inside and outside spaces. There’s less of a barrier to ‘going outside’. I feel like I’m just going to another room of the house.

A backyard fire is way better anxiety relief than watching TV indoors. Again.

5. I have an outfit.  Week 1 of quarantine, I was so overwhelmed and sleep-deprived, that I essentially wore the exact same outfit 3 days in a row. Determined not to be that disgusting ever again, I did the most practical thing I could think of. I ordered 5 of the same outfit from Amazon that day. I’ve been calling it the ‘everyday ninja’ line. It consists of a pair of yoga pants with utility pockets, a sports bra and a track jacket paired with either black Reebok or Kenneth Cole sneakers. In fact, the whole ensemble is black. Except for the 1 green sports bra I wear when I’m feeling festive. In this simple, form-flattering, practical - and most importantly, stretchy - ensemble, I’m ready for anything from a marathon day of video calls (throw on a cute scarf for biz-cas ninja!), to a quick walk or bike ride between meetings, or a weekend of binge-watching Netflix while bingeing on wine and snacks. Fashion. But make it quarantine.

Obviously things are also a lot more lonely these days, even for an introvert like me. Aside from that, I feel like many of the personal changes I’ve experienced are actually kind of positive. I also know that makes me very lucky in a time like this. I still have a job. My provisions are well-stocked, and I have enough space to move around in without fear or restriction.

So, as the days in quarantine tick by, and repeatedly hearing the phrase ‘the new normal’ becomes the new normal, I often stop and ask myself, ‘What have I got to complain about?’

NEXT: The Digital Workplace In The Time of A Pandemic

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Kisha Solomon is an Atlanta-based writer, knowledge worker and serial expat. She writes witty, poignant stories about the lessons she’s learned from her life, work and travels. She deals with the sometimes frustrating and often humorous side effects of being black, female and nerdy. When she’s not writing working or travelling, you can find her in deep conversation with herself or her four-legged familiar, Taurus the Cat. www.lifeworktravels.com

Celebrate Your Own Damned Season - A Different Way Of Celebrating For A Different Kind Of Growth

A younger coworker was doing her best to convince me to go to the company holiday party. I smiled at each of her reasons for why I should go, but was not moved in my decision. Another coworker closer to my age who had been observing our exchange joined in... “You’re just not there right now. You’re not in that space.” She said it with such knowing, such easy acceptance that I was not only grateful for but comforted by her understanding.

End of year is usually a time for celebrating. Celebrating what you achieved, what you survived, what you learned, how you grew. I’m usually the first to call out to my group of friends: “Who’s hosting?” Or, “Who wants to come over for...?” during the holiday season. 

But this year... 2019 has been a different kind of year for me. And I feel the need for a different kind of celebrating. This year was one of many losses for me and for several people close to me. The losses themselves were a shock, emotional bombshells each one. But each loss came with a gift inside. A jewel of learning and of becoming that the loss necessitated. There was gain and growth this year as well, but not the flashy growth and gain of here-and-gone spring annuals, but the unfurling of a few leaves and a slow, upward stretching and outward thickening of a central trunk - the decidedly unshowy growth of evergreens and perennials. 

Celebrating that kind of growth looks a little different. It looks like more intimate gatherings with smaller groups of friends - people who appreciate leaves as much as they do flowers. It looks like quiet time alone to reflect and sigh and smile and cry. It looks like notebooks filled with lessons learned from moments of confusion and hurt. It looks like opting out of the company party to go to a neighborhood gathering where the conversations will be more authentic, the hugs inappropriately long, the food cooked by hands I know. 

When I look back and recall the ways i chose to celebrate the end of this year, this decade... I believe i’ll be glad that I consciously chose to not just celebrate the season as dictated by calendar or custom, but as dictated by my own life’s season. 

Today, another coworker sent a text, “You missed out on a great party...”

I replied: “I didn’t miss out. I chose.”

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clay jug

You find a clay jug that mysteriously refills itself. you do not ponder the source, the reason for this mystery. instead, you return with your empty cup a thousand times to drink your fill.

when, one day you arrive again with your wanting vessel, you are surprised to find the jug almost empty. you do not question what made the magic stop. you take the last drop, angrily cursing the jug for ceasing to quench your neverending thirst.

Another arrives. he sees the magic in the always-full jug. he falls to his knees and thanks the gods for this gift. each day he comes to fill his cup, he says a prayer of thanks and leaves behind an offering to the gods. he teaches his children to do the same. for him, the vessel never empties. his lands flourish for generations to come.

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When you are connected to the source, there’s an abundance that flows from you. It attracts many. Some will come with hungry hands and bottomless bellies to fill themselves from you. When your reserves are low, they will disappear. A welcome few will be worthy receivers, accepting your abundance with grace and gratitude. With these, your abundance will extend and expand to become almost endless.

At times, you may be tempted to curse yourself for being such an always-full, always-open vessel. Don’t. This is how the one who created you created you to be. Instead, practice discernment. Learn to recognize those who come wanting and be patient as you wait for the grateful and worthy.