The Privilege of Potential

by Olu Burrell, MSOD, PCC

“Olu is quite…social…during class.” “He is loquacious.” “He is incredibly smart and has so much…potential—if only he would apply himself…”

OLUTOSIN “OLU” BURRELL is President & C.E.O. of Olu Burrell Consulting. He is a multi-hyphenate Executive/Leadership Coach, People Strategy, D.E.I. Consultant, and Wisdom Sharer.

TTHAT’S HOW MOST of my report cards read from the mid-80s to the mid-90s when I was in school. I was one of those kids that loved the social aspect of school more than the educational aspect—at least at first. A consistent—if not persistent— sentiment from my teachers was that I was on the cusp of really making something of the whole school thing if only I deigned to focus more on the subject matter at hand than being in the middle of joke salvos being hurled about. The potential that my teachers saw in me was, I would imagine, not unique to just those educators I encountered growing up in the nation’s capital, --but I presume it was fairly common everywhere. Somewhere along the way of growing up and maturing, it is the hope that we grow out of the behavior that keeps us from realizing our potential and into the behavior that nurtures it and shows it far and wide—to step into that space that evaded us for years but now finds itself holding some sense of familiarity to us. If we’re lucky (read: blessed) we meet that potential at a crossroads that brings us forward into the destiny that knew we had much to learn before arriving. The late, great Lorraine Hansberry once said, “That which makes you exceptional, if you are at all, is that which must also make you lonely.” Read that again.

These words ring so incredibly true especially as it pertains to the exceptionality that carries us into levels where we find ourselves as either “the only” or “the youngest.” It can cause us to feel unmoored. Or disconnected. But this does not have to be the case.

For many of us, the idea of leadership is akin to the solo journey of climbing a ladder. We know that ladders only allow one person to ascend at a time—but what if the path to leadership were atop a lattice instead? What is collaboration and cooperation were the tools by which we chose to ascend? What if the burden of (the perception of) sole exceptionality were tempered by the balm of collective community?

If that were the case then maybe we would see our ascension as a movement to which we belonged as opposed to a movement of which we made in a vacuum.

Many of us blow past “potential” in favor of “perfection”—for we learn at an early age that potential is something Black folks must exceed in order to obtain something approaching parity.

In my executive coaching work, I often engage with those to whom I share a racial and ethnic identity. Because of this, I find myself helping my clients navigate spaces in which the fatigue of being “on,”-- of consistently producing exceptional outcomes without always receiving recognition for doing so-has permeated their interactions so much that it has affected the way they see themselves and, by extension, the way they consider their perceived value.

Many of them have been in the unenviable position of training and guiding their future supervisors while left with the query of why—if they were capable enough to be entrusted with the task of training someone, why would they not be worthy of leading them as well?

Or when they find themselves engaging in sequences of semantics that find them at a loss in search of the actionable feedback they need to improve and to be equitably considered for positions for which they are clearly qualified.

In our quest for excellence and in our habit of exceeding, Black professionals often find themselves as an exception at the peaks of leadership in many professional contexts. Arriving at this summit is often hard-won; staying there remains harder still.

A few months ago, I was listening to HBR Ideacast, specifically episode #845, entitled, “DEI isn’t Enough; Companies Need Anti-Racist Leadership.” In that episode, James D. White, former CEO io Jamba Juice, was present with his coauthor and daughter Krista White to discuss their book, Anti-Racist Leadership: How to Transform Corporate Culture in a RaceConscious World. As a frequent consumer of podcasts and audio books, I have become comfortable with multi-tasking while listening. But at the very beginning of this podcast, I was arrested by a sentiment that I knew inherently and yet was still struck by the stark reality of how hard it was to hear spoken aloud. Mr. White, after taking a cue from the lead in from Ms. White, stated “I’ve never, across a long and successful career, been promoted on the basis of potential.”

As those words leapt from his lips into my ears, I found myself taking a pause ad reflecting. “Potential,” as I had known in my youth, was a catalyst that enabled my teachers to see me not as I was, but as I could be. It was their foresight of seeing me in the future with more polish, more wisdom, that caused them to not fear a future for me, so long as I learned to tap into it.

And here I was sitting in my office listening to a podcast that shifted me from passive listening to rapturous attention as I realized how the “benefit” to whatever doubts there were about me in my formative years has, in many ways, been laid at the feet of doubt whenever the subject of readiness and aptitude and competency became the subject of promotion and elevation. I realized also that this was not an isolated occurrence, but one that is felt in so many spaces by so many others whose visages were similarly kissed by the sun.

I began to then wonder how we may begin to regain and reclaim “potential” from the grasp of privilege in our quest for equitable treatment in professional settings.

I often find that whenever the answers escape me, I must put my faith in the questions, thusly treating the interrogative as the imperative.

As I thought about what it means to not only choose sponsors/ executive advocates who will speak our names in those spaces our feet have not yet touched, I thought about what it meant to equip them to insert “the benefit,” in the wake of “doubt.” I thought about what it means to make evidence-based support in the presence of evidence-less detraction no matter how seemingly benign it appeared. So, I asked:

“How might I want my sponsor to respond to seemingly innocuous questions like, ‘Are we sure they’re ready?’”

“How might I want my sponsor to “go to bat” for me in the face of statements like, ‘Don’t we think they need to be more visible across the enterprise before putting them in that seat?’”

“How might I want my sponsor to not only create a safe space for me but also curate a brave space for others to do the same for the persons for whom they are similarly charged to advocate?”

“How might we create a culture of positive peer pressure that makes potential possible for all? Because perfection is killing us.”

That last sentence was for you. When potential is placed out of reach then perfection becomes the salve we think we need. But that perfection, like hate, is too heavy a burden to bear. Give yourself permission to put down the weight of which you were not designed to carry in favor of piquing the potential you have within you. Reclaim your privilege and create the conditions for change by holding up a mirror and asking whether what’s being reflected holds true to your values. And if not, ask yourself what you might do differently.

Because as quiet as its kept, your potential is limitless.