Who...are you…who, who, who, who…???

(Song: “Who are You;” Band ‘The Who’)

Although it was many years ago, I remember this like it was just yesterday and this song by the band The Who encapsules the thought of identity. Looking back, I was standing in front of the Justice Center in downtown Cleveland, Ohio, feeling depressed, despondent and most of all, like I was a failure. Not that I failed…but that I was a failure.  

My law school classmates were in Columbus, Ohio, being sworn in by the Ohio Supreme Court as newly minted attorneys. But I wasn’t there since I had learned that I had failed the Bar Exam a few months prior. I went to a top-notch college, top-notch law school, was as confident as ever…but at the end of the day, when all was said and done...I was a failure. In fact, I remember walking around that day, in a haze, asking myself “How did I get here?”… “failure-land.”    

As I was walking aimlessly, I suddenly saw a classmate across the street. I instantaneously felt a sense of relief and remember thinking… “Hey, she’s not in Columbus…she’s here in Cleveland.” “Yes!”… "Like me, there’s another failure.” It felt good. Really good! I felt a kindred spirit. There’s was another failure, I wasn’t the only one.

In retrospect, this story really began many, many, years prior. As the only Black family growing up in rural northwestern Pennsylvania, my parents taught me the importance of my representation of our God, our race, and our family name. I had to make sure, like my parents, that I “made something of myself”…there was a lot riding on it. Becoming an attorney who helped make the world a better place would check all the boxes. In fact, in undergraduate and law school, when people asked me why I wanted to be a lawyer, my response was universally the same... “I want to help people...I want to make the world a better place.”

Returning to my story, I remember the phone call to the Ohio Supreme Court inquiring about whether I’d passed the bar exam. I remember giving the receptionist my name to look up and she said, “I’m sorry he was not successful.” I was not the least bit concerned. I knew I had passed. The exam was easy. My immediate reaction was that Stephen Smith was a very common name, and she clearly was mistaken because she didn’t have my full name. I nonchalantly said to her... “No, that’s Stephen L. Smith.” She politely reiterated that I did not pass. The following day I received my test score in the mail verifying her statement. I needed 270 points to pass. I received a score of 269.5.

However, an amazing thing happened on my rapid descent to the depths of despair. One day while deeply ruminating on my reality that I was a failure; I had an experience that I hadn’t had before or have had since. It was similar to a textbook Socratic method dialogue in my head that went something like this:

Question: “So you’re a failure because you didn’t pass the Bar Exam, right?”

Me: “Right.”

Question: “In other words, you would be a success, had you passed the Bar Exam, right?”

Me: “Right!”

Answer: “WRONG!” You are a child of God. Whatever you DO is only relevant in that you love God and love people.

For the next two years…I embraced a journey of self-reflection that allowed me to see my true motives for the “Lawyer” title. In the process I began to write a journal, which I still have and write in today. I discovered that deep down inside, the reason I really wanted to “be” an attorney was because I wanted to “be” somebody. I wanted others to see me as “somebody.” I wanted value, worth, societal acceptance that I believed a title like attorney would provide. I wanted to go back to my high school reunion and announce to my classmates that I was an attorney. The Black kid ‘made something of himself.’  

I was cloaked in pride that was masked in false humility. This pride had me evaluating both mine and others’ value and worth based on titles, wealth, societal status, zip code, etc. etc. For two solid years I felt like I was in the chair of a dental hygienist who had OCD and would not be satisfied until every hint of unhealthy pride, identify valuation, judgment of people and myself based on traditional notions of success were exposed for the lie that they are. This journey continues today as I endeavor to walk against the grain of what society defines as success, value and worth.

If you are still reading this, you are rightfully asking… “What in the world does this have to do with nonprofit life?”  Great question. It has everything to do with nonprofit life as people run nonprofits. We all bring our identity, sense of worth and value to our nonprofit.  

The lesson for us all is whether in the role of a donor, board member, executive director, staff member, or volunteer, knowing that we cannot become confused with thinking that our title determines our worth. The truth is that each position is equally important and has a unique effect on the overall health of the organization.

However, regardless of the role embraced, too often our pride, even if cloaked in false humility, can contribute to a warped sense of identity, which then can rear its ugly head, which ultimately will and does affect the organization’s ability to fully adhere to and advance its mission.

Thus, to avoid this human pitfall, we must constantly remind ourselves to check our ego at the door and remind ourselves that our value and worth isn’t tied to a title (board member, executive donor, donor, or attorney) but it’s tied to something far greater.

Stephen Smith is a Senior Advisor with Armstrong McGuire who specializes in interim management, executive leadership, board management, strategic planning, fundraising, and coaching. Learn more about Stephen in his bio.