Practicing What I Preach: Compassionate Leadership and Accountability to Myself

I make it no secret that I am a nontraditional leader in higher education in many ways — from my being a Black male to being a military veteran — I am not the norm. I stand proudly for the profound impact that compassion, vulnerability and true accountability have on the success of a leader. In fact, I weave this belief into every article, speech and meeting in some way. But like any other belief system, there comes a moment when you have to not just talk the talk, but actually walk the walk. I’ve found myself at that crossroad — the one where as a leader, you must honor those connected to you through truth and transparency. The same compassionate leadership style, vulnerability and accountability that I champion and challenge my colleagues to undertake needs activation in my own life. I have to lead myself before I can lead anyone else.

Yesterday, upon landing in Baltimore, MD, we were informed a fallen hero was on our flight. To witness his family standing there as he was rolled off the plane with the American flag draped over him hit me like a brick. I’m not often triggered, but I relived so many familiar experiences during that 10-minute observation. I thought about my own experience in combat. I remembered those that I’d served with that were sent home ahead of me this very same way. I considered my own guilt surrounding being one that made it out with “coverable” wounds and the ability to lead a “normal” and successful life both at home and in career. As the thoughts swirled I realized that I had been triggered. At that moment I was not okay.

I had two choices, to continue to plow through in quest of my agenda and schedule. Or to extend myself grace and compassion. This was the second time within two-weeks that my flight carried a comrade worthy of honor. This was not a coincidence. So I chose to pause and acknowledge my feelings. I acknowledged and accepted that this was way too familiar to me yet it didn’t hurt any less. I sat with my feelings of extended grief for those I knew personally and those that I knew in spirit through our shared experience of service. I prayed for renewed healing to reach this family. I offered my honor, verbalized his value and extended respect. “Until we meet again, Hooah my brother and rest, your labor has ended and you fought hard!” While I have no idea who they are, that was my brother in arms that paid the ultimate sacrifice for our nation. More than that, I know that at some point in the near future his family will be expected to return to their lives as leaders, students, workers, whoever they are aside from his loved ones. And I wonder if the leaders and organizations that they are connected to will recognize that an irreversible change has taken place in their lives. That this change may not make an immediate impact but can show up at any given point from here on out. It is a forever part of who they are. How will their leaders respond to them when they “return to normal”?

Moments like these are those that shape me as a man, a father, a leader. I sit in this moment forced to acknowledge that over the coming days and weeks I have an itinerary to follow and commitments to fulfill. But I take comfort in knowing that those that encounter me will experience me on the other side of this enlightenment.

I thank my business partner and friend Taylor McCain for holding me accountable to practice what I preach in grace to myself — vulnerability and compassion. I am grateful to my amazing staff member Bertrina Lawal for listening while I processed my feelings and thoughts.