Hold On to Narrative: Roots of Passion & Conviction

At a recent steering committee meeting on which I serve (for the New Mexico Health Equity Partnership), each committee member had an opportunity to share what our first job was and how that has informed the work we do now. I found myself surprised at the impact these experiences had shaped how each of us perceives and approaches the world and our work. 

As community leaders, advocates and nonprofit executives, our work stems from a belief that equity and social justice is always a worthy and necessary pursuit, and a conviction that it is within our power and in the best interest of the communities we live and work in to address the systemic issues that contribute to inequity and poverty. 

As we moved through the exercise, the roots of our collective belief and conviction were revealed and contextualized our individual passion for the work we are committed to doing in our State. Further, the importance and power of narrative became immediately apparent - our stories gave us the energy and drive to turn our passion into impact and change. Our stories gave us purpose. 

When I was thirteen years old, my father arranged for me to work at a local commercial greenhouse for the summer. I spent two and a half months working on the maintenance team; work which consisted of fixing broken water pipes, painting buildings, digging large irrigation streams and holding ponds, and packing and loading deliveries. It turned out to be a catch-all role that covered a variety of laborious tasks for nine hours a day, six days a week. And all this for $4.25 an hour (this was the minimum wage in New Mexico in 1993). I also happened to be the only kid on the maintenance team, which was comprised of middle-aged Hispanic men who only spoke Spanish. I, unfortunately, did not speak Spanish and so my learning curve was particularly complicated. It was hard work, mostly in the very hot New Mexico summer sun, and I spent the summer cursing my terrible luck at having been born to a father that would subject me to this kind of experience when I should have been spending my summer getting into trouble with my friends. 

(Image: "New Mexico" by Teecycle Tim is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0 )

When the end of the summer came and my father picked me up from the greenhouse on my last day of work, he asked me what I learned from the experience. Without hesitating, I blurted out that I’d learned that I never wanted to do that or anything like it again. During our drive home, my father explained that the only way for me to make sure that I never had to work like that again was to go to college. Both he and my mother didn't have an opportunity to attend college and had spent their young lives in the military and then my childhood and adolescence working in law enforcement and education. My brother and I had a humble upbringing and my parents were eager for us to create something different for ourselves. This pre-high school summer lesson was one of the many ways my father stressed the importance of education to me and my brother. 

As I shared this story with my colleagues and had an opportunity to reflect on it, I was suddenly struck by the realization that my experience, however tough and painful for my 13-year old self, had been merely a lesson. My experience began and ended with the summer and had been designed as a ‘teachable moment’ to communicate the need to pursue an education. The experience for the men on the maintenance crew, however, was not a ‘teachable moment’ but was instead their everyday reality. I shared that this experience taught me far more than just the importance and power of education; it taught me that circumstances aren’t the same for everyone, that we don’t all have the same opportunities. 

I came away from our meeting with a renewed sense of conviction and passion for the work that I do to advocate for economic and social equity and push for systems and policy change in New Mexico. More than that, as my wife and I get ever closer to welcoming our first child into the world, I am reminded at how formative our early experiences can be, how they inform how we see the world and the way we move in it, and how important it is that we continue to carry these lessons on to our own children. This experience - this life lesson - taught me the meaning and impact of work, opportunity and sacrifice and continues to drive my passion for working to help create economies that work for everyone, and my conviction that we must do what we can to implement the change we wish to see. These narratives are what drive us in our careers and in our everyday lives, and they help us to contextualize and focus our resolve.

The point, then, is to tell your story. Reflect on your experience, your struggles and victories and let them fuel you, your work, and your organizations. Take them in, let them fuel you, then fight on. Hold on to the narrative.