This summer I had the opportunity to attend the Executive Leadership Academy (ELA) at UC
Berkeley’s Center for Studies in Higher Education. When I arrived for the first
day, I didn’t really know what to expect. I had seen the agenda and knew that I
would learn a lot about aspects of higher ed administration that I have not
been involved with before (like fundraising, working with governing boards and
crisis management); I also figured that at least some of the sessions would not
be too new (like recruiting and retaining diverse faculty). I was correct on
both counts.
But the most valuable aspect of the ELA was not really in the content of those sessions (though that content was all excellent and I know will prove incredibly useful in the future). The real benefit was in something I had no way of anticipating: hearing the stories and personal experiences of the many speakers who were from minoritized backgrounds. Almost all of the presenters were former Presidents or Provosts and for me, hearing from women of color, in particular, who had not only made it into those positions but who all did so while continuing to be completely authentic and true to their cultural backgrounds, affected me deeply, in ways that I am still processing (and will likely continue to process for a long time to come).
I don’t know if I can even explain it. It was not just inspiring; I suspect that it was literally life-changing. I found (and continue to find) myself questioning beliefs and assumptions that I did not even realize were beliefs and assumptions – I thought they were simply facts and realities, about how leaders of universities are “supposed to” talk and behave. I listened to Cassandra Manuelito-Kerkvliet, the first Native American woman to be president of a university outside the tribal college system, talk about practicing her culture’s customs IN that presidential office; and I heard Judy Sakaki, the first Japanese-American woman in the country to be president of a four-year university, talk about how the family heirlooms – including kimonos from her grandparents – that she had displayed at Sonoma State were the only family treasures she still had after losing everything else in the Tubbs fire; and I heard SDSU’s own President, Adela de la Torre, talk about prioritizing family, even with all the demands of a presidency. With each presentation, I could feel something in me shift, something that at first felt like some level of surprise to hear what I was hearing but then thought, “Well, why NOT that?”
Throughout the week, I kept thinking about my struggle to call myself a leader. These women, as well as most of the men and women sitting around me in the room, not only were unafraid to claim their role as leaders but they seemed able to do so while remaining completely authentic to cultures and upbringing that are so different from the “traditional” model of what a leader a “looks like.” I can’t say that I am yet completely comfortable with calling myself a leader – maybe there is a part of me that will always feel a little weird about that – but I can say that I left with far more confidence that I can be exactly the person I want be AND be the leader I want to be.
But the most valuable aspect of the ELA was not really in the content of those sessions (though that content was all excellent and I know will prove incredibly useful in the future). The real benefit was in something I had no way of anticipating: hearing the stories and personal experiences of the many speakers who were from minoritized backgrounds. Almost all of the presenters were former Presidents or Provosts and for me, hearing from women of color, in particular, who had not only made it into those positions but who all did so while continuing to be completely authentic and true to their cultural backgrounds, affected me deeply, in ways that I am still processing (and will likely continue to process for a long time to come).
I don’t know if I can even explain it. It was not just inspiring; I suspect that it was literally life-changing. I found (and continue to find) myself questioning beliefs and assumptions that I did not even realize were beliefs and assumptions – I thought they were simply facts and realities, about how leaders of universities are “supposed to” talk and behave. I listened to Cassandra Manuelito-Kerkvliet, the first Native American woman to be president of a university outside the tribal college system, talk about practicing her culture’s customs IN that presidential office; and I heard Judy Sakaki, the first Japanese-American woman in the country to be president of a four-year university, talk about how the family heirlooms – including kimonos from her grandparents – that she had displayed at Sonoma State were the only family treasures she still had after losing everything else in the Tubbs fire; and I heard SDSU’s own President, Adela de la Torre, talk about prioritizing family, even with all the demands of a presidency. With each presentation, I could feel something in me shift, something that at first felt like some level of surprise to hear what I was hearing but then thought, “Well, why NOT that?”
Throughout the week, I kept thinking about my struggle to call myself a leader. These women, as well as most of the men and women sitting around me in the room, not only were unafraid to claim their role as leaders but they seemed able to do so while remaining completely authentic to cultures and upbringing that are so different from the “traditional” model of what a leader a “looks like.” I can’t say that I am yet completely comfortable with calling myself a leader – maybe there is a part of me that will always feel a little weird about that – but I can say that I left with far more confidence that I can be exactly the person I want be AND be the leader I want to be.
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