I Am Where I Am Because of Black Leadership
“The same research I found showing that white people increasingly see the world through a zero-sum prism showed that Black people do not. African Americans just don’t buy that our gain has to come at the expense of white people. And time and time again, history has shown that we’re right.”
I'm writing this on a hot June day in Detroit, reading The Sum of Us, watching my neighbors' kids rush to get a basketball game in before their dad turns the sprinkler on. And I'm thinking about how I ended up doing work that rarely feels like work and always feels important. And how I got there.
I owe all of it to Black leaders and mentors.
The first was Debra. When I was very young, my mother worked late nights at a gas station in a small rust-belt town in Western Pennsylvania with Debra by her side. I'd be there sometimes, doing homework or trying to sleep in the back office. I don't remember much about Debra, but I remember that she loved me, treated me like her own, and made the best sweet potato pie.
Greenville was a rural town of about 6,000, almost entirely white, with as many bars as churches—and frankly too many of both. I remember learning to love anyone, no matter if their "red, black, white, or purple,” but don’t let anyone else know what you believe. Looking back, I can't imagine Debra felt much kinship with her neighbors. But I remember her having so much love to give.
I wish I could say I’d had more Black leaders in my life early on, but it wasn’t until my 23rd year of school that I had a Black teacher.
Grade school, high school, undergrad, for years across to grad programs. And the class I finally took was audited after my coursework was already done!
Dr. Donnie Johnson Sackey—then Assistant Professor at Wayne State University—came to deliver a guest lecture at a talk on what would become his award-winning book Trespassing Natures: Species Migration and the Right to Space.
We talked about my research on the ways in which messaging shapes the way we interact with environmental justice, and how that varies from community to community. Donnie said, “Oh, well you’ve got to come work with me!”
Two months later I was visiting Wayne State, meeting faculty, having lunch with students, and sitting in on one of Donnie’s classes. Over dinner, Donnie helped me understand how academia actually works, which was knowledge you can’t find in a book that is often gatekept from those who don’t have legacy knowledge. I knew Donnie would help me navigate the ivory tower, which didn’t really feel like a place for someone like me who racked up her 10,000 hours as a waitress but never had an internship.
Donnie advised my dissertation and coached me through the job market, for two years after he'd already left the university. He flew in from Texas to surprise me at my defense and celebrate landing a tenure-track job— two things I am confident I would not have done on my own.
Growing up in white rural America I learned the professional world was everyone for themselves. Build your own security, no matter what. Every Black leader or mentor I've had has said the opposite. There is enough for all of us. You deserve better.
Donnie showed me that. He forged paths and challenged the norms. And then he reached his back to pull the rest of us up behind him, where others before had said “pull yourself up by your bootstraps.”
When I decided to leave the tenure track, I ended up in the climate and energy industry. In 2023, Encolor was hiring for two roles. My heart was in the outreach specialist position, but I applied for the researcher role, assuming it would pay more.
During my interview, Quinn Parker—someone I'd seen speak a few years earlier and badly wanted to work with—said she thought I'd be a great fit for another role they were hiring for that I hadn’t applied for. I laughed and was honest about my assumption. She asked about my salary needs.
A few weeks later, she called to offer me the job I hadn’t applied for but wanted at a salary above the number I'd shared.
That was the first of many investments Quinn would make in me. In the three years I've worked at Encolor, she's opened doors I never imagined walking through, advocated for me to have a seat at tables I wouldn't have found on my own, trusted me to make my own decisions, allowed me a seat at the table in building her first nonprofit, The Shared Space Project, and shown up when I needed support. Quinn, like Donnie, opened doors for me that no one had opened for her.
This Juneteenth, I am thinking about how we are not free until we are all free—and how Black liberation, much like Black leadership, is a rising tide that raises all ships. So I invite you to sit with a question: who are the Black leaders who have shaped you? What are you doing to invest in them?
If you want a concrete place to start, I invite you to join me in donating to Celebrating Black Women, Quinn’s newly founded nonprofit, founded in partnership with Pam Fann, that supports the leadership, professional development, and excellence of Black women. I believe that Black visionary leadership, and care for the collective, is the key to transforming systems—and investing in Black leadership is the key to create a culture where all people thrive.