Amber Melanie Smith: raison d'être

Practice in Vulnerability

Amber — Tue, 13 Mar 2012 12:23:45 +0000

There has been a long gap in posts on this blog, partially because during the Fall of 2011 I was utterly overwhelmed wrapping up my final semester of the Masters in Public Administration / Nonprofit Management program. The other reason, however, was that I felt like I had nothing to say. When you’re so busy, wrapped up in task after task with something to be done every moment, you become like a machine. You forget to think beyond the superficial and feel. Or you do feel, but you’ve become so out of touch with yourself that you have no idea how to express it. This is strange for me, because I’m used to a previous version of myself—some one who felt and expressed things at every turn, at the very least through my artistic interests. But the deeper I’ve delved into my leadership position, the less I’ve expressed, verbally, artistically, or any way.

So while I was being machine-like over the past few years, working to knock out my tasks in pursuit of my goals, my feelings were still there, bubbling beneath the surface, waiting to come out. My passion for my cause was so embedded in me that I at least could not contain that, nor would I want to. But everything else – all the little (or big) feelings that make me human – I’d turned off. Mostly I’d learned to turn them off when I’m around other people, I think because I worried that having normal, human (imperfect) feelings made me a worse leader some how. A wiser part of me sees that this is not only untrue, but a dangerous path. I need to be open, to connect. I need it to be a better leader, I need it for the causes I love. I need it for me.

A friend of mine sent me this video and told me it reminded her of me, and a discussion I’d had with her recently. Brené Brown discusses the need to put yourself out there and accept the consequences of our vulnerability. I had heard this before–When making new friends, bonding with others, you expedite the connecting process by allowing the other to see you vulnerable. Sometimes you must be the first to show emotion, or make a confession. “It’s always a risk,” Brené says. But you need to try anyway, because “The ability to feel connected is why we’re here.”

The following confessions are my attempt to connect with you and practice vulnerability.

Last fall I found myself looking up the definition of “burn out” and nodding my head to myself as I read it. Now, having finished classes, I’ve found time to rediscover myself, ponder what directions my life may take me while working to remain devoted to the organization and cause I serve. I believe I’ve evaded true burn out, but having been so close, I am eager to analyze my needs and revitalize myself so it doesn’t get me later.

Surrounded by people on a regular basis it is hard to imagine that I would feel isolated, but I have and sometimes still do. When you are a founder or nonprofit leader you sometimes become known by your affiliation with your cause instead of as an individual. While this may be great for rallying volunteers or story telling on your organization’s website, it can leave you wondering how many people truly know you as a person—and how many people would see you for who you are, imperfections and faults and all, and still like you any way. Because you’re not sure who likes you for the whole you (rather than for the cause you’ve become entwined with), you risk that feeling of alone-ness. You stop expressing yourself and all of your true feelings because you worry you might lose the people around you if they hear what’s really on your mind.

I know others in the nonprofit world, especially in leadership positions, might relate to this need to feel connected. The expression about leadership, “it’s lonely at the top” is cliché but can be true if you’re not careful, no matter how big or small the effort you’re leading is.

Feeling isolated is not all. We may feel an overwhelming guilt that we haven’t made a bigger difference yet or blame ourselves for the lack of resources available to do so. We want to help every person who needs us but know we can’t help every one all the time—so we feel drained when every person who needs us does ask for help. We’ve spent so much time sending the message that we’re here to help that it when people take us up on that, it can feel like people forget we’re people with needs and feelings, too. We forget how to say “no” for fear of letting people down. And then, when we’re overwhelmed, we can let people down any way.

We get deeper and deeper into our work. More and more, we spend nights and weekends working and reject opportunities for connection because we feel guilty allowing ourselves to have fun when there are so many problems in the world we feel we need to solve. Eventually we forget how to say “yes” to the things that might bring us personal joy, and the cycle continues, and then those opportunities are lost.

I feel all of these ways from time to time. But I believe it’s possible to seek rejuvenation if I let myself. The first step is forgiveness. I’m human. Extremely flawed and imperfect. I can be selfish, petty, jealous, sad, anxious, angry, insecure like any one can. I can allow myself to feel these things and express them—but if I forgive and accept myself, I can also to channel the energy of these emotions into something positive for myself. But first I have to forgive.

Remembering 9/11: The Flying Man

Amber — Sun, 11 Sep 2011 16:39:30 +0000

Today is the 10 year anniversary of the 9/11 attacks. I have been trying to articulate how I’ve felt about this all weekend. Looking back at iconic and horrific images from that day, the one that stuck with me the most was the one known as “The Falling Man.” Staring at the image of this man, I was able to begin to express how that day affected me, in poem format. The picture invokes deep sadness and sympathy, but today we try to honor 9/11 with acts of good and service in the spirit of that notion that “only light can conquer darkness.” For that reason I re-imagined the “Falling Man” as a “Flying Man.”

The Flying Man

I reached to stop you
But you’d decided
It was time.

You looked at me and
In your eyes, resolve
Your vital and final choice.

Running, leaping valiantly
Fear turned courage and power
You wouldn’t let them win.

In the heat there were two choices
And in this you held fast
Be crushed in metal and ash, or fly free once more.

You did not fall. You flew.

Plunging through the finely spun web that was your life
Interwoven with those who touched you
and whom you’d touched in return.

Flying alongside I held your hand
Together we watched faces in windows flash
Some would be ghosts, angels.

Air whipping past you told me secrets
Final confessions shouted into the loud wind
I smiled to comfort you.

As we flew, I uttered to you, too
Vows made as a child, before I knew
The key turned, a spark ignited, an inch of growth marked on the wall.

As your life replayed in flight, mine shaped
On our flight, I grew wings of wisdom
Wings of my own resolve.

The long flight grew short
Your impact was a flash and a transferrence
It would become my impact.

For when death had faced you
Faced with few options
You chose a final flight.

And I, who lived, flying away with wings that sprouted
Am faced with so many more choices
Yet only one that fits:

To lift others when they fall.

Extreme Make-Over: New Brand, New Unity

Amber — Sat, 09 Jul 2011 15:00:34 +0000

On June 1, 2011 the nonprofit I co-founded and have served with for the past 6 years–ME³–got a face lift. We revamped our look, launched a new website (which the organization had been in dire need of, thanks to my own NON-uber l33t web skills). Oh yeah, and we also changed our name to Activate Good.

On June 1, when our new name, brand, look, and website went live, the board of directors breathed a sigh of relief. Like any overhaul involving decision-making in a group of people, the rebranding experience had its trying moments (do we like this shade of orange or that for the new logo?). But really, in the end, after all was said and done, it felt invigorating as opposed to draining.

The reason is because in the course of our make-over, we each got the chance to “re-found” the organization in a sense. I was the only one on the board who’d been around since the beginning. I brought with me all the history, anecdotes, trials, successes and failures of our journey and evolution. But the other board members had varying terms of involvement with the organization. While we hadn’t thought of the goal of rebranding as, necessarily, coming together as a board to grow unified in our vision, that was a wonderful effect. Here’s why:

Rebranding forced us to revisit the basic foundations of our organization, from our organization ‘personality’ to our mission statement. If a newer board member hadn’t already had an “a ha!” moment about what we did before, it happened during this process. In coming together to meticulously re-craft our mission and vision statements, we all became honorary founders.
Rebranding helped us come to consensus on who we were as an organization and how we wanted the general public to see and know us. We changed our name because many people could not understand or connect with the name “ME³”. In choosing our new name, we were able to pinpoint the ‘personality traits’ of our organization and translate that personality into a title that we felt maintained our past energy while having the potential to feel more accessible to those who didn’t know us.
We each played a part. No one board member or volunteer can take credit for the results of our rebranding. Each of us contributed something–some idea, opinion, or insight. In having equal investment in the rebranding process, all deepened their investment to the organization overall.
While we were at it, we delved into an honest investigation of our programs and other aspect of our operations as well. Analysis, change, and willingness to perfect systems is not just important, but vital for any organization. Nobody is perfect or has the miracle cure, or knows how to save the world automatically. In revisiting our brand and image and name, we also remodeled how our key program would work. Our volunteer program will experience its overhaul in August 2011, when we’ll introduce what we feel is an exciting and innovative approach to inspiring and facilitating more volunteerism in our local area. Being open to change helped us explore other areas of our work that could improve.

I know for me personally, the rebranding was like a fun, girly make-over. Now that it’s over, I feel re-energized to represent the cause that is so important to me, and I can see that my fellow board members and volunteers feel the same.

Beyond Natural Disasters: Inspiring Volunteer Motivation Year-Round

Amber — Wed, 25 May 2011 15:00:10 +0000

Those living in or around the Raleigh, North Carolina area are acutely aware of some of the havoc wreaked by a massive tornado that assaulted our area on Saturday, April 16 of this year. Following the storm, many of us (especially in the nonprofit community) were inspired by the mass of volunteers who came out of the woodwork to help with tornado clean up, get supplies to those impacted by the storm, and give donations and money to recovery efforts.

While I’m no disaster relief expert, I’ve experienced and observed a fair share of natural disasters and the response they generally warrant from community members: An immediate and in some cases urgent desire to lend a hand. Commonly after a disaster, nonprofits–especially those on the forefront of disaster relief (Red Cross, city / county services)–receive a barrage of offers from volunteers to assist. The energy and willingness to aid is positive to be sure, but it can be difficult for organizations to handle the sudden wave of newcomers.

A fellow nonprofit professional remarked to me the other day that she was grateful for volunteers’ willingness to help, but secretly wanted to say to them, “Thanks for coming, but where were you the other 364 days of the year??”

True, the nonprofit dream is that communities will be consistently and enthusiastically engaged 365 days a year, but low volunteerism rates in many areas are proof that this is not already the case. So what makes times of disaster so different for volunteer engagement? How can nonprofits hope to build up a similar volunteer energy on a ‘regular’ day?

I believe four factors make disaster-volunteering compelling to volunteers or would-be volunteers:

Urgency: This is a given. Those in nonprofits certainly know and feel that their cause is an urgent one that deserves volunteer attention, but disasters are adrenaline-pumping, emergency situations that cause most to call friends and family to check on well-being. I have personally experienced the rush of adrenaline that comes with hearing about some disaster striking and feeling that “I HAVE to DO something!”–I know that responding to this often visceral compulsion to help out is understandable.
A connection to people we know personally: Disasters strike communities, which means it is possible those disasters have impacted people we actually know. It’s commonly understood that people are more likely to volunteer when they feel personally connected to a cause. And many researchers have wagered that volunteer rates would appear higher if we included “personally helping your neighbors” in the official definition of volunteering. What this means is that we like helping people we know, and people whose faces we can see and lives we can watch being impacted. It is believed that disaster volunteering provides this.
Visibility: It’s common sense that causes with more exposure get more support. When disasters strike, they make up the top news stories around the entire community–and these stories often include how people can get involved to help with the aftermath. Massive awareness like that, combined with the call to action, means that more people hear about the need and understand how to fill the need.
The perception that you can use your hands / get “down and dirty” to help out: Disaster volunteering invokes images of blood, sweat, and tears–Using your muscles to move giant trees blocking roads, personally comforting affected victims, etc. Though some disaster volunteering could include physical or personal work, in reality the top type of support needed after a disaster is financial support. It’s no secret that disasters cost a lot of money in damages to public areas, peoples’ homes, and more. However, the belief that volunteers could get hands-on to help is one that gets them especially interested because it makes the impact feel more “real” to them. Though dollars are a top need, people are harder pressed to see how their dollars helped than they are to see how the streets got cleared, the people got meals, or the houses got rebuilt.

So what can we learn from this? How can we try to harness positive volunteer motivation year round?

Be clear and concise in how volunteering for your cause makes an impact: In general people are overwhelmed already with information they see and hear about all the causes out there that need help–That’s one reason urgent disaster needs get their attention and time. But, people will shut out our message if we claim every need is urgent–So instead, make it a point to clarify your message, keep it as straightforward as possible, and spell out from the beginning what sort of an impact people can expect to make by volunteering. Ideally, people will volunteer to make that impact you’ve said they would, even in the absence of some urgent and sudden disaster to address.

Offer more data about how everyday people around us are affected: Some causes do an excellent job of this already (“Some one you know may be homeless”, etc.), but others can take a page from their book. We know that people are more compelled to help causes they are connected to – so build on that by making your cause relatable. For causes that deal with issues that are very specific or rare, bring it down to earth by telling the stories of those impacted.

Find a way for people and groups with varying skills to support your cause: Organizations should always stay mindful of their needs and finding the right people to help fulfill those needs, but some creative thinking on how to utilize people with new types of skills wouldn’t hurt either. “Hands on” volunteering is popular because any one can do it and your impact feels tangible, but that doesn’t mean you can’t demonstrate how using other skills is vital, too. I’m a firm believer that there’s a way for any one with any skill set to help the community some how–and that finding a way to include people with diverse skills means you are reaching across boundaries to expand your support network as well.

Playlist Memories: Joliet Jaycees, Illinois, 2004

Amber — Thu, 07 Apr 2011 19:42:11 +0000

Music has been the theme of my last few posts. I haven’t begun to scratch the surface on how music has played a role in my life or nonprofit-y dreams, so I’ll continue on this train of thought.

Most of my close friends know I have a very strange and eclectic music collection. I’m just as likely to hear Handel as I am Muse if I venture a random song selection.

Today my randomization led me to Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy. If you’re not a country fan, it’s something you might still appreciate because it’s just fun. A song for parties to be sure, but for me it took on an unusual and unexpected significance.

As Big & Rich kicked off the first few measures, a distant memory flooded in. There it was–the first time I’d heard this song–amidst the revelry of new friends and a service project on one of the stops along the cross-country volunteering-and-acts-of-kindness road trip I took with my best friend Heather. We were in Joliet, not far from Chicago, Illinois, at a charity spaghetti dinner we’d volunteered to serve at to help out the local young professionals’ civic club: the Joliet Jaycees.

We were strangers in this city and at the dinner hall where we were volunteering; we were strangers in most places throughout our entire 2.5 month trip. There might have been some level of anxiety about this fact had we not been so welcomed with open arms by the Joliet Jaycees. We were there to serve and help out their cause, but we’d leave with more than just good feelings about having done so – we’d leave with new friends.

Heather, myself, and Shane (who’d left his home in Chicago at this point to accompany us on our volunteer-quest) slopped spaghetti heap after spaghetti heap onto plates during what had so far been a tame event. Then came Big & Rich.

Dum dede dum, dede dum, dede dum, dede dum, dede dum dum…

We heard a few women across the room shriek in delight. Looking over, we saw as several Jaycees members grabbed chairs and began dancing on and around them. Some laughed, others joined in, and before long the song had made giggling children out of these grown adults. My friends and I looked to them in their silliness and joy and felt a connection. These people weren’t strangers we were volunteering alongside. They were human beings with a common passion for doing good and we were part of them, if only for the night.

Here we are with some of our new-found friends:

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy isn’t about women going crazy over ‘rustic’ men–Well, maybe it is, a little(!). But I will always remember it as that song that gave me the chance to see some strangers as fellow fun-havers and do-gooders. They were regular people, having fun doing good.

That’s what volunteers are.

Music for Nonprofit Devotees, Part II: 10 Songs to (Re)Invigorate Changemakers

Amber — Sat, 02 Apr 2011 15:12:34 +0000

Last month I wrote about how a song from my youth inspired me at the end of a taxing day. I stated a firm belief that music can invigorate and drive us to work to help others and make positive changes in the world around us if we let it. It’s hard to put a finger on what it is about music that allows us to feel this way, and I’m very curious about how different music affects different people differently.

Throughout the years I’ve compiled playlists for myself that I can easily access when I’m in need of a “save the world pick-me-up.” These are songs I know I can count on to get me “in tune” with empathy and pondering worldly problems so I can draw upon the emotions I feel to reinforce my dedication. Or, they are songs that energize me and make me feel determined to tackle tough work or issues that may be hurdles to my goals.

Here are 10 songs that (re)invigorate me as an aspiring-changemaker (in no particular order). Yes, some of these are totally cheesy and cliche, but that’s okay with me. I’m not ashamed! I hope these songs will inspire you, too:

Scorpions – Wind Of Change
Joan Baez – Dona Dona
Wicked – Defying Gravity
Blessed Union of Souls – I Believe
Michael Bolton – Disney’s Hercules – Go The Distance
Peter, Paul, and Mary – Light One Candle
New Radicals – You Get What You Give
Superchick – One Girl Revolution
Bon Jovi – Livin’ on a Prayer and It’s My Life are both worthy candidates.
Man of La Mancha – The Impossible Dream, though Man of La Mancha (the song) is also good! Extra points if it’s Linda Eder singing it.
BONUS TRACK – Muse – Invincible

What songs are on your list?

Higher and Higher and Into the Fire: Music for Nonprofit Devotees, Part I

Amber — Thu, 17 Mar 2011 02:22:36 +0000

It had been a long day. It was late, and I was feeling a little downtrodden. Some ups and downs of nonprofit work had been endured and it left me feeling physically and emotionally exhausted. I was expecting a rather quiet, sullen drive home when the notion hit me to put a very old CD into my car’s CD player and see what the last song on it was.

There it was. The intrepid, anticipatory strings and horn. The suspense and the goosebumps on my skin, knowing what emotions the song would bring. I’d found in a pile of random CDs in my old car a copy of the song that — even after 10 years — still made me clench my fist in determination to make a difference!

In “Into the Fire”, Percy Blakeney (AKA, “The Scarlet Pimpernel”) rallies his friends around him to overcome seemingly insurmountable odds to help others in need. When I first heard the song, I was 15. For years it would be my theme song, and only a few years ago had I somewhat forgotten it and my love for it–until tonight when I inadvertently dusted it off.

I’m glad I did. It was just what I needed.

Every one has their way of coping with bad days, burn out, emotional exhaustion, or other inhibiting feelings. Music has always been mine. Before I even knew what a “nonprofit” was or how it could be a mode through which I could work to bring about change, I was drawing upon the power of music to inspire and energize me to think of ways I might try to make an impact. It’s not something measurable (we love our metrics) but it can’t be denied that there’s some mystical power to a song. If it can get my adrenaline going and cause me to bolster my efforts towards my cause on a given day, that’s saying something.

Coming next: Music for Nonprofit Devotees, Part II: 10 Songs to (Re)Invigorate Changemakers

On (the) Eve: A tribute to a stranger who made an impact

Amber — Fri, 04 Mar 2011 21:04:08 +0000

Tomorrow is the 3-year anniversary of the death of Eve Carson, UNC Student Body President who was murdered on March 5, 2008. I wrote on this topic on a previous blog, but my increasing feelings of connectivity to a ‘community of do-gooders’ I keep referencing compels me to post this again, and now, on the eve of Eve’s death.

I had never met Eve, nor heard about her before she was killed. But some how when I heard about it, her death lingered in my mind for a long time after. For a week or two following the news, I remember seeking little stories about her life, trying to gain some understanding of who she had been and why this had happened. When the authorities discovered her death had occurred during a simple hijacking and robbery, I felt empty. I am not sure what I expected… but it seemed that a person who strove to give meaning to the world should have some more meaningful end.

Did I see in her what might have been a kindred spirit, or did I see something of myself there? This might offer some explanation for the way her death affected me, not knowing her personally. I wonder if the desensitization so many of us endure means we are less able to pay tribute to these souls in our memories. Ironic, and crushing, how as we gain greater and greater access to the stories of so many at our fingertips, we slowly lose the capacity to equally love each and every one as much as they deserve.

I never knew Eve Carson. I cannot say for sure what she would have wanted for those who lived on after she was gone. But I think the best way to honor the legacy of some one who tried to make an impact – some one whose potential and future impact was cut short due to a horrible act – is to vow to try our best to make up for the loss by coming together and working hard to do double or triple the good we could only imagine this person and others like her would do for others, had they lived. Acts of greed, acts of evil must be undone and outdone by acts of good.

Rest In Peace, Eve.

Adventures in Founder’s Syndrome: Like having a baby

Amber — Mon, 28 Feb 2011 13:30:44 +0000

At some point a year or two ago, I stopped calling it “my” nonprofit. In conversation I faltered in attempts to come up with new ways of explaining my role with the nonprofit I’d co-founded and led for the past 6 years. “The nonprofit I serve with,” and “The nonprofit I help lead” became new phrases. They were clumsy and a little awkward, still, but the alternative–continuing to call it “my” nonprofit–didn’t feel right, either.

They say when you create a nonprofit, it becomes the property of the community. This is true in a legal, philosophical, ethical, and practical sense… and yet it is often still a very difficult fact for founders such as myself to internalize.

Creating a nonprofit is like having a baby. There are hours and sometimes days of painful labor as you brainstorm and refine mission, methods, and policy. Once its birthed you’re elated, holding it possessively in your arms while showing it off to the world (see how cute it is?). As it reaches first milestones, first baby-steps, you croon and clap, taking lots of pictures and displaying them prominently for family, friends, and supporters. You scowl when it keeps you up sleepless nights, working late hours on requests, necessary paperwork, and relationship-building–But as months pass and you see how much its grown, you can’t help but smile and nod, affirming to yourself it’s all been worth it.

If feeling maternally attached to, protective of, and yes–even a little possessive of–the nonprofit you’ve founded is Founder’s Syndrome, then the aches and pains you feel when you realize that to be the best leader possible you have to let go are part of Empty Nest Syndrome. Maybe it’s not all grown up, not yet. But it is time for it to go off into the world. It can stay under your watchful eye. You can still be its leader. But the way you think of it must change. It belongs to every one now, and you can’t tell it when to go to bed or what healthy foods to eat any more.

And yet, I think if one can do it–if one can muster up the mental and emotional maturity and embrace the notion that his or her organization belongs to the world–they will be able to transcend to a new level of leadership that will actually better benefit their organization and others they may work with. A selfless parent can let go, and the bird can leave its nest, and fly.

Glee-ful for TV Do-Goodery

Amber — Mon, 21 Feb 2011 13:30:59 +0000

As a former chorus-geek and eternal lover/practitioner of vocal music, there was no denying I was going to love Glee. This may garner eye-rolls from the more serious and somber of TV-viewers, but I can’t help myself. It’s fun, it takes itself just seriously enough, and here’s a big plus in my book–It frequently illuminates the social issues and problems teens (and adults!) face in a respectful and often provocative way.

TV just doesn’t do this enough.

Never before have I seen a television show so seamlessly integrate awareness-raising about a variety of causes into its (admittedly kitschy but lovable) story-lines. Since it came on air in September 2009, Glee has invited the audience to ponder such issues as gay rights, women’s empowerment, anorexia, physical and mental disability, chronic illness, peer pressure, bullying, issues related to performance-enhancing drugs, teen pregnancy, and more.

To be admired further, the Glee cast backs up their in-character explorations of social issues with real-life public service announcements and service. In my opinion, Glee’s approach to awareness-raising for causes feels deliberate, but not forced down the audience’s throat.

My questions are: In what ways might Glee have inspired offline/off-air action in its audience members towards some of the issues it addresses? And, of course, how can Glee further use its awesome musical powers of audience-enchanting for good?