Post Realignment Musings: Or the Tectonic Plates of Culture Change

An interesting thought: for an organization that’s constituency is always in a state of transformation, how “risk averse” some of the Girl Scouts’ volunteer constituency has been. Courageous girls wake up one day and their clothes don’t fit, their hair looks odd and now they have braces. Days later they feel funny, maybe a little bloated and, well, you know. Yet they still have to go out and face the world, go to school, take those changes in stride, and keep moving forward. We should all take a page from that book.

At our recent annual meeting, held at an historic hotel in Oklahoma City, we hosted almost 200 Girl Scout delegates from all over our 39 counties in central and western Oklahoma. For those of you not in Girl Scouts, we take the democratic process very seriously. Delegates are elected in Service Units across the Council’s territory to represent their area at the annual meeting.

Annual meetings are an opportunity for an organization to share with its stakeholders the financial health of the organization, to make any changes to the by-laws or other corporate documents of the organization, to give a report on how well the organization is fulfilling its mission, to honor retiring board members and other stakeholders who have helped the organization fulfill its mission, to elect the new board and to share a vision going forward into the new year. In the not for profit world, organizations are usually required by their by-laws to conduct this annual business meeting.

In the past, for many Girl Scout Councils, the annual meeting was an opportunity for volunteers who are troop leaders to come together to share stories, to elect the new board and to have an annual awards event. The “business” of the annual meeting may have taken a back seat to operational issues.

To reach more girls with the leadership message of Girl Scouts, we have to address the business of Girl Scouting. Some of our evaluations of the annual meeting; reflected this change: “This was the best meeting I have attended so far. I am pleased to see us in a “power” spot in the city.” As many as 3 delegates to one scored this annual meeting better than any they had ever attended. So we are changing this 100 year old organization into a more dynamic, vibrant, successful and nimble one, moving at the speed and the courage of girls.

Yet, it strikes me as odd that some of the volunteers who have been troop leaders for years seem particularly risk averse. They get upset when talking about changes and making shifts. They often say, “but it’s all about the girls.” I wonder, what girls are they talking about?

Some of the comments left on evaluations of our annual meeting were of this vein. In speaking about a long time supporter and donor to the Girl Scouts who received a well-deserved award, some of the comments were similar to this one submitted: “What service unit are they from? What troop number, how many girls are in their troop? What a joke! Thank God us regular folks love the Girls – because to us Girl Scouts is about them! The Girls!”

This comment referred to our discussion on the importance of reaching more girls with Girl Scouts: “Why are girls referred to as market shares? They are GIRLS!” Others were like this comment about the year-end financial report that lists where all of our money was spent: “I would like to see what areas the money is being spent – not necessarily a budget.”

All the girls I know are continually changing and re-inventing themselves. The speed of their transformational shifts astound me as a mother, friend, aunt, neighbor and acquaintance. I try not to be too shocked when I see a girl sporting a new way of being than she was a mere few weeks earlier. I support her changes; I revel in her marvelous ability to land on her feet, to adapt, to be nimble.

If only some of the folks who say, “It’s all about the girls” were really in touch with the girls and their ever-transforming needs, they might see the great changes being made in Girl Scouts today a whole lot differently!

No Judgment, Just Prayer

It was 4am when I drove up to the shelter to pick her up. Four in the morning, not unlike the countless numbers of times her husband would wake her in the night to abuse her and not unlike the last time when she awoke to the sound of the gun being cocked and felt the cold metal on her face. How she managed to talk him out of killing her that night, I can only guess because she never said, she just cried for the first week I saw her in the shelter.
She’d been there a month and sometimes she smiled now, especially with her two toddlers who also seemed to be feeling the cloud of abuse lifting, even in the close and crowded conditions of the battered women’s shelter. Then her demeanor seemed to change, she was so quiet all the time, my heart hurt for her through her shyness. Something was wrong and finally she told me, she was pregnant. The last year had been a blur of rape and abuse by her husband, who was stationed at the local military base. He had seen his father abuse his mother all his young life, culminating in his shooting her in front of him, his young son.
This morning we were heading to Wichita, a decision she agonized over for many days. She got in the car and we headed down the Kansas Turnpike. She sobbed quietly in the dark. In my early twenties, I could not comprehend all that she was going through. I could not even imagine the hell in which she had been living.
Dr. Tiller’s office was on Kellogg. We had to arrive early and the process would take most of the day. I knew this was a very, very sad day for her. I was only a witness to her pain, trying to keep her grounded in the world so that there might be a tomorrow for her and her young boys.
My religious upbringing included the idea that only God could judge us – no man could cast judgment on another (lest he be judged). At the kitchen table of my New York born and bred black Irish grandmother I learned a mixture of love, spirituality and common sense. She lit candles in church for the “poor souls in purgatory.” She loved the God she worshipped and I think believed that her praying for those who made mistakes was what we were meant to do. No judgment, just prayer.
Scott Roeder judged another and took his life. Now I struggle to not judge his actions as he had judged another. George Tiller was in church. His family, his God, his pastor, did not judge him.
At the end of a very long day we drove back to Manhattan while she sobbed sometime uncontrollably and I had to pull over and hold her, to the battered women’s shelter. When we got in the door she hugged her sons so tightly, their lives, just beginning again.

Why I Have Children...

Rushing home at lunch today to make chili for this evening’s dinner, the thought that came to me was my life would be far different if I didn’t have children. Most days, I can’t get home at the noon hour, but when I can it feels like a reward. Chili seemed like the perfect meal on a frigid day. As I stirred the chili, in between bites of a sandwich I thought: without children I would be at least $500 richer each month in child care alone. Without children I would probably be thinner, going to the gym when I rush out of work at night instead of going to the grocery store for milk and bread like I did yesterday. Without children I would live in a smaller house, have less bills, more free time.
My revelry was interrupted by the site of my 10 year olds Christmas list. Printed in the neatest of her handwriting (it has always been a struggle for her) on copy paper, it begins with “yellow leggings.” “Leg warmers, black boots, smell-good lotion and brownish red lip gloss” are on the list with a “flip video thing” (“pink if they have it”) a head band (“a summery one, not a winter one”) and “v-neck shirts, not white.” Rounding out the list on the bottom is “Buttons (the dog) List” and includes a “chew toy, a bone and a sock.”
I chuckled to myself. Without children I would never have that laugh that touched my heart when I read the list. I would never have the memory of my oldest who used to say when I was quiet with her “Are you mad to me?” And if I said no, would say, “Are you sad to me?” I wouldn’t have the quick goodbye hugs in front of friends, or the sitting on the lap while watching TV (or the fights they had over who got to sit next to me until I sat in the middle). I would never have the lullabyes I sang to them or them to me when they were little, or the Christmas mornings full of excited faces and toys. I would never have the little hands that gripped my finger or the moments when we all fell asleep on the couch together.
I sighed. Maybe the weight gain is not so bad, they are getting older now and maybe I will be able to get back into an exercise regime soon. I guess I can apply that commercial about things costing so much and then other things being priceless to our lives. As a mom I am tired a lot of the time, I am always trying to catch up on my sleep, my friends, my exercise, my bank account. But when it comes to Christmas lists and hugs and kisses, I am way ahead of myself. And it’s great.

Unsung (S)heros

Saw the movie “Blind Side” Thanksgiving weekend and thought about all of the women I have met and worked with in my life that are out there, changing the world, one day at a time. While it sometimes looks like they are just having fun, and their pictures end up more on the society pages than on the front page, they are the ones who make our world a better place.

These women, they really are the news of the day, making the world a little better, not just around the holidays or during an event, but all the time. They are the fabric upon which many a charitable organization does its good works. These women never earn a salary but they contribute far greater stuff.

Years ago, when I worked in a battered women’s shelter, I would drive up and see the BMW or a Jaguar parked at the curb. Those cars looked strangely out of place until they didn’t. Whether it was answering the phone or driving a child to school or planning the next fundraising event, these women were there, changing the world for the thousands who crossed the path of our Center.

Today, I work with an equally wonderful cadre of women who contribute their time, talent and treasure. The annual fundraising events that shares with the community the good works of this or that charity and raises money so that the next generation of children won’t live like this is always precisely run by these silent (s)heros. Our whole system of charitable organizations would cease operation if it weren’t for the women who step in like the woman who sheltered and nurtured Michael Oher. It isn’t always easy, to give of yourself freely, to work tirelessly for no pay and very little recognition. Today, thinking about all of these unsung heroes who have made me a better person, in addition to contributing to all of the organizations through which I worked, I am very grateful.

Confidence

That panicky feeling took over. The rendezvous point for my daughter in middle school was her former elementary school. My younger daughter was out there waiting, but where was her sister? We circled back in the car to her middle school, to the park where she often waits for a while with other friends who walk from the middle school to the elementary school. Not there. Ugh!

What to do? Breathe. “Let’s head up toward home, there is only one street she can follow,” I say to my younger daughter who is sensing my panic. We start up the street, a couple blocks and no sign of her. Then, I see her, a block or so away, jacket strung across her backpack (it was a chilly day), that familiar gait of her long legs. Relief!

I pull over, she smiles. I breathe.

“Mom, I feel so good about myself, I knew where I was going. Are you mad?”

“No! I was worried about you! I am so glad you are safe.”

“Mom, I knew how to get home, I knew I could do it.”

Confidence to know where we are going, is it something learned or is it something with which we are born? Sometimes I think it is the small things that remind us of who and what is within us. Throughout most of her life, I had never heard my daughter sound that confident. She espouses a lot of “knowing” I think mostly to annoy her younger sister. But that place of speaking out with your whole voice, that voice of confidence, I was pleasantly surprised to hear it coming from her.

Knowing is confidence. Sometimes we don’t trust what we know. That still small voice in us says something, and we say “sshhhhh, I don’t want to hear that.” Or we hear the override from the world which tells us we don’t know what we think we know. Those tween years, that’s when the inside voice begins to lose its power. This was a good day for my daughters and I. We all got to see the strength of the inside voice that knows. Here’s to hoping my daughter can hang on to her own voice as the voices of friends and others begin to gain volume in her world.

Rewarding the Care Voice in Economics

Elinor Ostrom and Oliver Williamson won the Nobel prize for Economics. The headlines start with the remarkable fact that since 1969, when the prize was first awarded, a woman has never won. More interesting, it seems, is the nature of the work that Williamson and Ostrom were doing and its contribution to what we believe about the way people behave when it comes to commonly owned or used “stuff” and/or when resources are scarce.
After the economic meltdown, many decried the way that people, particularly men on Wall Street and in financial institutions had used the market and other people’s money for their own gain. The NY Times reported that the committee, was highlighting “the shortcomings of an unregulated marketplace, in which “economic actors,” left to their own devices, act in their own self-interests”…and the theory that “in doing so, (it) will enhance everyone’s well-being.”
What Ostrom and Williamson and people like Rosabeth Moss Kanter in her book World Class, point out is that the market can be influenced by relationships and behaviors that develop among companies that are competitors but find ways to resolve together common problems. Ostrom’s work focused on common properties like lakes, pastures, woods and ground water basins. Her observations and research found that resource users can and do create sophisticated rules to address basically, something we learned as children – how to share. Williamson, in his work, focuses on the propensity of firms (organizations) to work together when there are limited resources. (Firms are more likely to cooperate and solve problems together.)
The work of these two individuals and many others like them (for a really great read on how companies and cities have worked together to address common problems, read Kanter’s book) point to the care voice that has always been present in our world, but often gets scant attention. This voice, often socialized into girls and women, is alive and well in our marketplace; it is just that we sometimes don’t call it out as a positive force for good. Often, we trivialize the importance of working together, sharing and addressing scarce resources and believe we have to regulate sharing through interventions by governments or larger corporations. The research of these two economists, points out that sharing is not only possible, it leads to positive outcomes. We need the care voice in our world. Hurray for the Nobel Committee for calling it out!

Girls Soaring

Why does the thrill of soaring have to be preceded by the fear of falling? Good public speakers, athletes, and actors all talk about that initial anxiety that accompanies the speech, the event, the play. I have heard it said that just a little of that anxiety can help you create the edge you need to push yourself to the next level. Once, while taking a class in self defense, we were told to “feel the fear and do it anyway.” That is a good lesson to learn when you are trying to overcome something; in this case, old patterns and scripts of being unable to defend yourself.
As girls are socialized, they come to an edge of knowing and not knowing themselves. Before my eyes I, am watching my 11-year-old try on new “selves.” Last year as a fifth grader, she was somewhat reserved around others and very judgmental of teachers who she did not feel were in integrity. This year, she observes the passion in her English teacher for a book he likes. She tells me, “It would be like me talking about the books I really like, mom. He just goes on and on about this book.” She doesn’t like the book and thinks it is boring. Last year, she would have resisted completely, dug her heals in and chosen not to participate. This year, she is plodding through, reading the book and doing the assignments.
Looking at the canon of works they are reading, I am saddened to see there are no women authors. There are few men of color. I want to push back on this edge, even though she has backed away from it. Her conformity comes with her socialization. As her mom and as a woman in this culture, I know she has to conform. She can’t step out and fly off this ledge. She has to be successful in school and to be successful she has to accept the canon of books as the best of the best, even though she will not see herself reflected in it. She must deny the voice inside herself that wants to demand a book that engages her and connects her.
To soar as women sometimes means to leave the comfort of the group, to challenge the status quo, to speak out when something doesn’t feel right. Sometimes we don’t even recognize any more what we accept as true, even though it may not be true for ourselves. Raising daughters, watching them, I see those edges and have to trust that eventually, my daughters will know when to soar.