Anatomy of Nonprofit Leadership: Part 3

This is the third article in my “Anatomy of Nonprofit Leadership'' series. The idea of using the body as a metaphor for leadership came to me when I was invited to share insights with a group of women leaders in London last fall. While I find the metaphor fitting, I’m also keenly aware that every body is different, and full usage of each of the body parts I mention may not be available to every reader. While I bring my own bodily experience to this writing, I do believe that the lessons I share can be relevant to everyone. Read previous installments: + Leadership Brain, + Leadership Eyes

The heart is a symbol of love. And I wonder, what is the role of love in leadership? And can we set a standard for such a thing? 

I’ve been reflecting on my own career history and thinking about where and how love has shown up. While doing so brought to mind so many individuals for whom I feel, at the very least, deep affection and, in other cases, love, I would hardly expect all leaders in our sector to love every single individual with whom they come into contact. That’s not realistic. Our job isn’t to be saints; it’s to work effectively with each other, in service to a mission. 

And yet to say that love for other people is unnecessary for effective leadership is, I think, to go too far. 

I believe to lead effectively, what’s most important is to have a fundamental stance of love for humanity in all of its complex, chaotic and, at times, cumbersome glory. This is distinct from the very personal love we might feel for individuals.

Such a “I ❤️ Humanity” stance (see what I just did?!) allows us to create a foundation of love and trust in the workplace, which enables us to create a culture where we can respect diverse contexts and perspectives. Which allows us, as humans, to work together in ways that allow us to do our best work, and be of greatest service.

When we approach our work through this stance of love, we can make our teams feel authentically seen and valued, which can fuel them through difficult and intense work. As I have shared before, I feel strongly that I need to show up as energetically for my 4pm meetings as I do for those at 9am. Of course, I’m only human, and may not always hit the mark, but it’s a sense of love and care for people that makes me want to offer as much value to those who get “late-afternoon Suzanne” as those who get “5 Am club Suzanne”,

That stance of love is also what prompted me, recently, to share key take-aways from my own performance review with the entire staff of USA for UNHCR . My heart was driving that decision — driving to allow vulnerability, and exposure, in service of building trust and love, which in turn helps us work together at our best. 

Another example of love in action… early in my tenure at a previous organization, a colleague confided to me, casually in the canteen, their struggles with anxiety and depression. I would argue that they confided in the right kind of leader– me!-- who took what they shared and stored it away in my mental file folder of “Examples of Staff as Humans.” 

This colleague was and is capable of delivering great work, and they’re also prone to great struggle and sadness (as so, so many of us are). Their vulnerability with me is one of many lessons I’ve learned as a leader for how to remain compassionate, accommodate different capabilities and, above all, be patient and show grace with all matters of the tender enterprise of humanity.  

No reflection on the role of heart in nonprofit leadership would be complete without acknowledging that leaders are human beings with hearts of their own — hearts that often battle heartbreak at the levels of suffering to which we bear witness. We need to learn to allow our hearts to stay open, while also protecting our hearts and keeping them healthy; in both cases, in order to serve our mission, our colleagues and the wider non-profit ecosystem more effectively.

I know, for example, that what we do at U4U and UNHCR literally changes lives. This is true, unequivocally, and reminding myself of this helps create  a bit of protective coating around my heart — it’s as if reminding myself of our life-changing impact can ever-so-slightly soften the blow of all the work I know we can’t do, and all the suffering that will still happen. 

I can visit a malnutrition clinic in Ethiopia, as I did last September, and be heartbroken seeing the measuring tape around the babies’ arms; and I can also tell myself that if we weren’t there, we wouldn’t even be documenting this malnourishment. Will we save every child? No. Would we save zero children if we weren’t there? Yes.

Does this erase my heartbreak? Of course not. But it keeps me moving forward; it enables me to lead. Veer too far in this direction, though, and try to wall off any pain I might feel, and it weakens my leadership, because it compromises my humanity.

As the heart of the organization you lead, take good care of your own heart, without which, the efficacy of you and all you serve will be greatly compromised.