In college, my roommate and I regularly left Black Student Union meetings frustrated with the organization’s direction. We never felt heard. We were often outmaneuvered via Robert’s Rules of Order, or outvoted.
We’d hoped the BSU would chase weightier matters such as the cutting of Black student recruitment programs, the school’s complex investment entanglements, or campus racial tensions. That got us labeled “militant.”
But one night, with one incident at a white fraternity house, everything changed. What happened that night and in the intervening months reflected how situations – not ambition – often create leadership.
White fraternity members attacked a Black woman who’d delivered pizzas to their house, knocking her down, surrounding her, and calling her the “N-word,” and the “B-word.” She feared they might sexually assault her. She called campus police and learned that since the fraternity house sat off campus, there was little they could do.
Someone called our apartment. I’ll never forget my roomy bursting into my room to tell me what happened. We didn’t know the girl but felt that this attack could not go unanswered. We decided to walk to the frat house and confront them. We needed those guys to expect a penalty for any future misbehavior.
We lived well off campus but began walking around 10 p.m. By the time we reached the front door of the frat house, we were three dozen strong.
Things quickly went sideways.
The eyes of the guy who answered the door opened wide when he saw us.
As I spoke to him, someone reached over my shoulder, grabbed the guy by his shirt, and tried to pull him onto the porch. His fraternity brothers tried to pull him back into the house.
I heard glass shattering and someone inside said a window at the rear of the house had been broken. I heard screams of “call the police!”
Police arrived in helmets and with nightsticks drawn and began a slow march toward us.
The fraternity brothers pulled in their friend and closed the door, so I rushed the phalanx of officers with my hands raised. I told the lead officer that that I could quell the disturbance.
He said, “Son, if you can do that, I’d really appreciate it.”
I rushed back to our group explaining that we’d made our point and that we should leave before any of us got hurt and to my amazement, everyone moved calmly across the street.
In the weeks that followed, we’d establish our own student group. Our numbers grew. We frequently appeared in Kansas City news media. We eventually laid siege to the administration building and forced the Chancellor to address our concerns.
We’d supplanted the leading Black student organization.
Leadership often finds us, not because we pursued it, but because it pursued us. In the middle of earnest engagement, people around you start looking to you for guidance.
This meant that our convictions must guide us rather than naked ambition. This meant engagement in the world around us was crucial, even in frustrating situations.
And lastly, this meant we must stand ready in any situation to meet the moment because if you don’t feel heard, others likely feel the same way and will look to you to lead.
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