It can be a bit nebulous, leadership. People often assume the title based on a role they hold. A position they’ve aspired to. The pinnacle of a career – leader of people and their charting their own course. Yet, a title alone, a position, is nothing more than that. Being named a leader doesn’t automatically bestow upon you some magical fairy dust where people fall in line behind you. A leader is infinitely more than that.
I’m fairly certain that those who study birth order characteristics find leadership qualities in firstborns. Often, they naturally rise and take charge of situations within the sibling ranks. They create the rules, the systems, the natural order of life among their family and peers. Once in school, they might rise and do the same, taking on leadership roles within the student ranks. Once we leave the cocoon of our nuclear families and school, it’s a whole other ballgame.
While firstborns might naturally be drawn to leader roles, they don’t hold the exclusive rights to it. Traditionally, as anyone grows in their career they grow in terms of power which likely translates to having direct reports. You can watch any old TV show and see examples of a “boss.” I think of Lou on the Mary Tyler Moore show, Captain Steubing on the Love Boat, or how about recent example, Miranda Bailey, the Chief on Grey’s Anatomy. All were in a position of authority and operated as a “boss” to one degree or another.
What the traditional or television versions of a “boss” don’t convey is what it truly takes to lead people. A “boss” likely has more the mindset of managing rather than leading. I’m a student of Brené Brown and tirelessly read her books, diving deep into the personal reflection that surrounds her work. Leadership isn’t having people do what you tell them to do. It’s not espousing your system of belief and expecting a team to fall in line without question, like lemmings into the sea. It doesn’t happen automatically. That’s being a dictator. Leadership is full of nuance.
Leadership requires vulnerability. The willingness to be open and honest about how what you’re experiencing, even when it sucks. It requires transparency. Having personal values that guide the way you go about your life, at work or at home. Leadership requires courage, which, Brené says in her work, you can’t get to without vulnerability.
Anyone can be a leader, whether you’re leading yourself or leading others. People are seen as leaders out of respect for the way they go about their lives, whether in or outside of work. Leaders are willing to wrestle with the hard decisions, to face their fears and do it anyways. They create boundaries about what’s ok and not ok. They demonstrate integrity, having the hard conversations, bringing other people with you instead of expecting compliance. If you require compliance, you’re most likely going to see resentment instead.
This notion that you’re not letting someone lead? Or another person demanding that you let them be the leader? That’s not on you, that’s on them. In and of itself that sentiment falls flat. Nobody has to give you permission to lead. By the characteristics you demonstrate in the way you go about your life and treat others you show that you’re a leader. In the same vein, you can lead yourself every day of your life. You don’t need followers in order to be a leader. That’s true whether you’re at work or at home.
The notion that the leader at home or work has to be a man? Well, maybe it is a man. But just as easily, it could be a woman. Or it could be both partners. Being a leader is the way you carry yourself, not based on sex or position. We’re getting better about that, but there amongst more conservative /traditional workplaces and homes, the notion of the male leader is still espoused. It’s something that needs to change. Leadership, done well, can be a bit of a dance, where two people complement each other, both owning their part.
Which is all any of us can truly do in life, own our part. Bring our best game every day. Show up, do the work, be willing to be vulnerable. Lead ourselves first and if given the opportunity, lead others with integrity and courage. And keep showing up and doing the same. It’s our journey, and I’m on it with you.
It’s a party! Seriously. Every day. In my head. The left, right, frontal, amygdala, all getting in the mix, spinning in so many different directions I get dizzy. I could label the voices, there are those that are what I suppose other people would be saying, a couple that swirl in ‘what if’ land, a few more that believe they’re in acting school – walking out a variety of conversations and situations at any given time… and then there are those that are quieter. The little girl inside me, the still, small voice of God. Those voices get drowned out most of the time by the others that are arm wrestling for front and center, but they’re there.
I recall a time when I could not be in my house without having noise. Usually, I’d come home from work and turn the television on. Not to watch it, but to have the background noise. To have silence felt deafening and uncomfortable. Uncomfortable with my own thoughts, which could simultaneously be headed in a hundred different directions and reminding me of the ways I needed to do better, do more. I can recall visiting my mom’s house and there was no television, no music, nothing. Silence. It felt oppressive.
Beverly Hills 90210 was the TV show when I was in my early 20’s. The hairstyles, the romance, the drama. It was beyond easy to stay hooked in and watch the train frequently head off the tracks. So, when I learned this week that Luke Perry, who played one of the main heartthrobs, Dylan McKay, died after a stroke, I nearly shed a tear. What struck me most is that he was only a year old than I am. Far to young to be dying. This death, coinciding with an awareness that others my age are more frequently having serious health issues, made me stop and think.
I finally did it. I’ve watched episodes of The Art of Tidying up with Marie Kondo. I’ve talked about it. I’ve encouraged others to do it. I fully embraced the idea on behalf of other people. In fact, I embraced it within my own home…everywhere but my closet. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Let me take that back, I did, but not the full, throw your clothes in the middle of the room and start from scratch version.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve gravitated to music that is big. Ballads, big female voices, dramatic crescendos, swells…think Celine Dion, Whitney Houston, lately a little bit of Lady Gaga. BIG. Songs that fill a room and might leave you crying in a puddle on the floor at the same time. Throughout the years, I’ve found myself drifting away, but always returning to a song, or finding new ones, to put on repeat. When my kids were young, I’d blast it in the car, we’d all be singing along and then…I’d turn it off…catching them mid-song each time…and then we’d laugh and laugh. But even today, they know the words to all the songs. You’re welcome.
I often let a thought spin around in my head, almost like a ball on a roulette wheel. The idea will spin and spin and when I least expect it, click into place. I wrote about taking a class on the Enneagram last week. Some of the information was new, but not all. I’d been researching the tool for a while. The idea that rolled around in my head related to what is referred to as the “childhood wound,” of the type.
I find personality tools to be fascinating. Ways to learn more about myself and other people from different perspectives. I recently took a workshop on the Enneagram. If you want to get straight to the heart of how you’re wired, dip your toe into this tool. I sat in a cramped room, snacking my way through a fire hose of information for four hours. Literally, an immense amount of information. Enough to scare away someone who hadn’t read about it ahead of time. Thankfully, I had.
Last month, I was part of an event with the Willow Creek Association. During the one-day event, 7 segments were recorded, different facets addressing abuse and harassment within the church. On Thursday, I received the recording of my portion, in which I gave practical advice for preventing harassment within the workplace.
I am the oldest child and have all the type A characteristics that come with it. Oddly though, my birthday is late in the year, which made me the youngest among many of my friends growing up. I was four when I started kindergarten and only 17 when I stepped foot on my college campus. It presented a dichotomy, oldest at home but youngest in day to day life. I’ve thought about the contrast lately as I’m mentally turning a corner. Still the oldest child, no longer the youngest of my peers, and in the middle of my life.