Something I have learned after over a half century on this planet is the power and value of my story, my lived experience. In a profession where most of my colleagues are attorneys or have other advanced degrees, I have learned that understanding and accepting my lived experience as a powerful advocacy and leadership tool has been essential to my professional success. Our stories are our superpowers.
Let me tell you an abridged version of my story. I was born in rural Upstate New York, in a town of 750 people where the residents were 100% white and English-speaking. Poverty was ubiquitous and there was little to no pressure or expectation to succeed from either family or community. I identified as someone very different than the people around me from before I started kindergarten and would come to understand my identity as a gay man around adolescence. By the age of 30, my story had become the lyrics to a sad country song from my youth, if there had been a queer one. Disabled and living with HIV in chronic poverty. Surviving domestic violence, sexual assault, divorce, mental illness and addiction. Legal problems and bankruptcy. My queer country song.
At 40, I was introduced to civil legal services through my experience as a client. At that time I was hired as an unpaid intern at Empire Justice Center and remained in that role for 6 months, after which I was hired as a paralegal working with homeowners at risk of foreclosure. At times, there were awkward situations that were almost comical. One example – I was referring my own clients to attorney colleagues who I was also a client of. Another sad country song.
After 7 years in that role, I was hired to my current position of Program Manager where I oversee grants, provide training and technical support, and participate in policy advocacy for organizations providing foreclosure prevention services statewide. I am lucky to play and have played several leadership roles at Empire Justice, both official and unofficial.
Every point from client to paralegal to manager was terrifying for me. How could I, the subject of a sad queer country song, sit at tables with and be colleagues with Empire Justice staff who were so smart, did such important work, and were state and national leaders and advocates in so many areas??
By being encouraged to, metaphorically, stand on my desk – like the students in the movie “Dead Poets Society” – and examine my story, my life, from a different perspective, it became evident that the very things that brought me shame were my strengths; my stigma was my superpower. Having the lived experience of a client enabled me not only to connect with our clients, but also to understand what I was advocating for. Their realities were not foreign to me, they had been my own a very short time ago. I can talk about “us” and not “them”, and when I talk about “client communities” I am talking about my own community. The things I advocate for are often tangible things for me, protections or benefits that I wasn’t afforded in my life.
What I have discovered for myself I think is true for most people. I don’t doubt that each of you have lived experiences that enable you to connect with clients and better enable you to understand what you are advocating for. Owning parts of ourselves that we have denied, parts that have brought us embarrassment, humiliation, or discomfort may be exactly what we need to do to become better advocates and leaders, people who can work in true partnership with our clients. It can help you see your clients fully and honor their experiences.
I encourage each of you to examine your experience; get up on your desk and take a look at your own story. Find the lyrics of your country song to reveal your own superpower.