Leading With Love, Though It May Never Be The "Word Of The Year"

I’m thinking a lot about resilience these days. At the end of another year, I’m taking stock of my life's journey so far, and there's a lot to be thankful for. And while 2016 started off with sharp, spiky fangs that menaced me during the first few months, I toughed it out. The year has definitely ended on a more peaceful, hopeful note.

One of the highlights of my past year was being named one of LinkedIn's Top 10 Media Writers, for the second year in a row. Though I’m incredibly humbled by and grateful for that recognition, apparently my sphere of influence extends only so far.

After all, the Oxford Dictionary people didn’t listen to me last December when I urged them to consider making “courage” the 2016 Word Of The Year. Well, any of us who wake up on Jan. 1st, 2017 will have exhibited Herculean levels of courage to have survived this past awful, terrible, most horrible year. I had to stop saying, “Stick a fork in me” after about the 100th time or so because I was afraid somebody would take me seriously.

Instead, the good wordsmiths at Oxford chose the term “post-truth” for this year’s honor. I can’t entirely object to the pick because it’s clear that facts don’t mean much any more, based on recent events. But while we brace ourselves for the consequences of 2016, I want to take one more crack at proposing an alternate Word of the Year for 2017. Since I started this post by mentioning resilience, you might think that’s where I’m going. But it’s not.

I believe the must-have word for 2017 is “love.” And not the sappy, “We Are The World” brand of it. I’ve never believed in blind love, and the current zeitgeist seems diametrically opposed to it. I've seen too much and endured too much this past year to think that human beings as a group are capable of seeing beyond differences and embracing each other warts and religions and varying skin tones and all. We can do what’s possible in our personal lives, but as a species, we’re pretty doomed in the blind love department.

No, the love I’m talking about is a love born of resilience. It’s a love that calls on experience and aspirational triumphs to keep it fueled. It’s a different kind of love for humanity, because it’s based on what time and trial and error proves that we each can contribute individually, not on how much money we donate to charity or how often we go to church. And recently, I identified how that kind of love manifested in my life when I learned of the death of E. R. Braithwaite, the man who wrote the book that the movie “To Sir, With Love” was based on.

Most people can point to a movie or a scene in a movie that left a profound imprint on their psyches. One of the top five for me occurred at the end of “To Sir, With Love” after the magnificent Sidney Poitier had endured almost an entire year’s worth of disrespect, insolence and general tomfoolery while teaching in a London slum. He finally lands the engineering job of his dreams, in the form of an acceptance letter and a check to pay for his moving expenses. But at an end of year graduation party, the group of students he had once wanted to throttle present him with a silver mug and a beautiful musical tribute to express their gratitude for his patient, determined guidance.

"Sir" is so moved by the gesture, he has to leave the party to regain his composure. He’s sitting at his desk staring at the gleaming symbol of his selfless commitment when two young knuckleheads burst into the classroom, snatch the mug from his hand and then basically threaten him by saying they’ll be in his class next year.

Even though I’ve seen that movie at least 20 times by now, every time Poitier stands up, takes a deep breath and then rips up the acceptance letter and check, my heart skips a beat. He has just rejected a comfortable middle-class life and the chance to leave those young hellions to their bleak school and even bleaker futures. He has chosen to shift the lens from what he’d trained for, what the world expected of him, towards an endeavor that the past year proved he was good at—shaping and molding young minds, exposing them to a way of carrying themselves in the world and a shot at a future none of them ever dreamed possible.

In that single act, “Sir” exhibited more love for humanity than many people ever do in an entire lifetime. And whether he only did it for one more year or 30, if only one student went on to college and a productive career, it was because "Sir" stuck around, deferred his own dreams to fuel somebody else's.

While reading about Braithwaite’s life, I realized how much of an impact that movie must have had on me. Growing up, I never saw myself as a teacher, never wanted to be one. But by the time I left Kenya this past May, I was the “Mama Hen” of East African journalism training. I stayed far beyond the end of my 3-year International Center for Journalism fellowship, beyond the UNICEF communications consultancy, even after the Voice of America editing contract ended and there were no job offers on the horizon. I stayed because I loved what I was doing, and when there was plenty of work, I soared. There was true exhilaration in making a contribution in ways that would be impossible sitting at a desk in Washington, DC. And if even one young African journalist moved through the world with a deeper sense of confidence because of something I had shared or modeled, my years away from home would have been worth it.

Even though I'm playing BIG TIME professional catch-up these days, I wouldn't have missed a minute of my time in East Africa. So all I’m really saying with this post is that at least from now until we manage to destroy ourselves and the planet, if we all find a way to infuse our lives and careers with a mixture of love and resilience, we might just improve the quality of our overall existence.

In spite of all the evidence to the contrary that’s been piling up lately, I still believe that most people want a peaceful world where the fewest number of their fellow humans have to suffer. I also believe that ignorance is the most powerful destroyer of love that ever existed. But recognizing love when it comes into your life, in whatever form, is the key to personal success. Recognizing your own value, what you excel at professionally, and then committing yourself to being the best you can be in that field, is a critically necessary form of self-love. Recognizing that tomorrow is not promised to any of us, and that we must use our time here in the most positive, productive way possible, is a terrific way to show love for our communities.

And choosing to extend your hand to lift someone else up, instead out keeping them at bay out of fear or hesitation or anger, is perhaps the greatest love of all.