Successful

For work, once a quarter, we have to write a "great story." Normally I think it's stupid because it's generally used to parade our successes as though it's never hard. But I wrote this one today, about last night, and for the first time I felt like it was a great story worth telling. Maybe because it's not about my success, it's about the success of those who deserve to be noticed.

In order to understand the triumph of the young men in the leadership program, it’s important to understand their oppression.

I developed the young men’s leadership program in reaction to an understanding of the environment. My community is largely comprised of single mothers and young grandmothers raising their children. There are virtually no positive male role models to be seen. During one session, we began talking about childhood- I asked who they looked up to as a kid. Out of the five who were there that day, one boy (one!) said that he looked up to his father, a father who was no longer around due to the confusion surrounding refugees and immigration status. Of the rest, two said the person they looked up to as a child is currently serving life in prison. One said the person he looked up to as a kid is now a gang leader. One could not think of a single male in his life that encouraged him (until his high school coach). Then there were the parents. I can’t count the times that parents came up to me, not knowing what to do with their boys. Big Brothers, Big Sisters currently has a three year waiting list for boys (it’s about two months for a girl). And there was nowhere else to go. So I started the leadership program.

The idea was that maybe, instead of trying to find people to invest in our community, we could raise up people to actually create sustainable change. Originally we thought it would be a sports and leadership program- with the sports aspect as an incentive. However, within the first two weeks, the boys requested that we not play sports when the leadership activity was finished (they all were in sports) so that we could more time on the leadership part. And so we proceeded. It was a 10 week program, during which we had the honor of some amazing and prestigious speakers, without whom it would have been nothing. We also had a twenty-something guy that came consistently and connected incredibly well with the young men. I owe all my gratitude to them.

The first 7 weeks were comprised of various speakers presenting on the different forms of leadership, but the last three weeks were a chance for them to put their new found skills into practice. Going back a bit, I want you to get a glimpse of how I have seen them treated, and maybe that will help explain why this is such a big deal.

These are good boys. I mean genuinely good. Not good in comparison to the other boys around them. Not good in light of the violence and poverty and images they see compelling them to act another way. Not good, for young, black, urban males. They are good in and of themselves; relative to anyone I dare you to set them against. I know this, because in the past year I have watched each of them show honesty, consistency, and responsibility in every aspect of their lives in the midst of the kinds of circumstances that would have made me, for one, fly off the handle. I can say with confidence that anyone who knew them would agree.

And yet, in spite of this, I have watched people- people who should know better- claim that they are incapable of, for example, playing basketball without it ending in a gang fight. Something went missing once- something which, statistically, is highly unlikely that anyone in their demographic would have any interest in, let alone that they are not thieves- and yet we were told that “you have to really watch those people. They steal things.” “Those people,” of course, referring to any young black men. This happened. It was the closest I was to violence in my career. I was told that I need extra security because if left alone with them they would probably rape me- yes, specifically told this- when I can confidently tell you I am at more danger from the mothers in the community than these particular young men. Heck, I would even go as far to say I am more danger from my coworkers than these boys. This my personal experience of hearing them labeled over and over as bad, worthless, dangerous, uncontrollable. I can’t imagine what it must be like to have assumptions placed on you about your ability to deal with authority, your work ethic, your morality every time you apply for a job, or shop in a store, or walk down the street. I hope and pray that if I ever have children, they do not have to experience going through life with the automatic assumption that they are evil, an assumption that- even with actions proving them contrary- they can never fully shake.


As I said, the last three weeks involved the use of appreciative inquiry to talk about their lives, the issues facing the community, and their role in changing the world around them. Then we used these thoughts and ideas and created a program. They decided that many of the problems that are caused are as a result of boredom- when you have no access to entertainment or positive activities, you become destructive. Then, by themselves, they designed a game night for the final outcome of the program. They worked with a budget to decide what food they wanted. They talked about how they would keep it safe and peaceful. They decided what ages should be allowed, how they would get parent permission, and passed out the permission slips. They talked about how to handle any situations that might arise. They decided what games they would have and who would bring them and how to make sure the wii didn’t get broken. All this they did while I sat at the table next to them reading (and eavesdropping) so that they would be forced to do it on their own.

When the day came, the boys came early to set up. Since they had decided they wanted to have a family style meal, they set each place. Long before the program was scheduled to begin, kids were banging on the doors like zombies trying to somehow magically push their way through the glass. So one of the boys went outside, told them if they continued to bang on the door that the night would be cancelled and shut it.

When it came time to let them in, one of the young men- a young man who, I might add, did not say more than three words the entire first 4 weeks of the program- walked outside with more confidence than I had ever seen in him, proceeded to line up the kids, explain the rules, and let them in one by one by calling their name off their permission slips.

The night was perfect. Better than I could have done. The guys were fun, attentive, strong leaders. There was less yelling or misbehaving than I have ever, ever, seen at any of the many programs I did this year. If a problem began to arise, they took turns dealing with it calmly and respectfully. I had enormously high expectations of them, and they exceeded them all. But, as unbelievably proud of them as I was (and am) it was nothing compared to how proud of themselves they were. Having never had the experience of being trusted and encouraged, this was a break in a life of constant battling against prejudice to prove their inherent worth. I got the opportunity to take each of them aside that night to tell them how proud of them I am and to give them some of their rewards for having completed the program: a t-shirt, a framed certificate, and a personal recommendation letter (the savings bonds will come in shortly). One of the boys began to tear up when I told him about the letter of recommendation. He asked if he could make copies and use it for finding a job or if it was just for college. I told him to make as many copies as he wanted.

I think the really amazing thing about the night though, was watching how the other kids looked at the guys. At first they were shocked when they would ask me for another slice of pizza and I told them to ask the young men who were in charge. Less than 30 minutes into the game night, however, they started imitating them. This was especially true for the younger boys, who asked if they could help pass out food, wipe down tables, throw out trash or vacuum (the last of which would have been very inconvenient since the room was packed and games were being played).

Earlier that day I was worried if my year of service meant anything, if I had made any lasting impact at all. My impact was temporary, but the impact of these boys is incalculable. All of them are now talking about college, school work, careers. They see themselves as smart, capable role models. They know what it means to be a leader and they know that they are up to the challenge. I had the amazing opportunity to help them see themselves, maybe for the first time, as having vast potential. But all I really did was help them to see themselves for who they are.




tl;dr version: WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S TOO LONG?! READ IT FOOL.