My year began with an invitation to facilitate a student leadership training at a then-local university. It was my first time being invited to work with students at a campus that was not my own, and would have been my first time receiving an honorarium for my work. Unfortunately, at the last minute, I had to cancel due to a mental health emergency. At the time I was devastated because I thought I was missing out on an opportunity to begin my work as a lecturer, facilitator and public (motivational) speaker. 

Two months later I was slated to be on staff at a group relations conference whose topic On the Matter of Black Lives was near and dear to my heart. Again, unfortunately, this coincided with yet another health emergency and my subsequent need to wrap up things in San Diego and relocate back to the Atlanta area. And again, I was crushed because I saw yet another opportunity missed where I would be getting to work on my craft of facilitating and leading groups. Something that I've always felt drawn to but out of fear and shame, had resisted. 

The two talks that I did get to lead, one at California State University, San Marcos and the other at Bucknell University gave me the opportunity to talk about bringing your whole self to the table as a professional. At the time, I was well-versed in the rhetoric around how reducing shame and shaming behaviors can foster connection, and how authentic engagement can lead to increased leadership capacity and reduced anxiety around change. I knew it, and to some extent I believed what I was saying, but it was nowhere near as real as it is to me right now in this moment. 

When I spoke at Bucknell, I had the opportunity to talk to faculty and staff about what I dubbed as a conversation "About the And". It is my way of attending to the intersections of our social identities and opening up a conversation about how complex those "ands" can make our experiences, and our decision making. The response was more than positive and many faculty and staff came to me after the talk citing that they never thought about their own "ands" let alone how their collection of selves was shaping their perception of the world around them.

Similarly, at CSUSM, I talked to students who initially wanted to know which identities should be most salient (and which most hidden) to secure the station they dreamed of in life. This conversation was more difficult because I shared with them that in my own experience, nothing ever stayed hidden for long, and that my greatest successes came when I showed up as authentically as possible, despite threat of consequence of condemnation. The looks of shock on their faces made me draw a sharp breath. But I continued on asserting that as I normalized and accepted my own behavior and thought processes which come as a result of all of my intersections, then it left little room for others to re-write my story. Because I know who I am, no one else can tell me any different. Some see it as a curse, but I see it as a blessing that I can no longer compartmentalize my selves and struggle with maintaining strict boundaries around my double consciousness. The result has been me being more unapologetically ME in spaces regardless of the constituency. 

Most recently I was reminded of just how much I am at home in my skin with the posting of my article about post-PhD PTSD. On my website, the post was viewed by over 1500 people over the course of a few days. Was shared 15 times and while there weren't any comments, the same cannot be said of its posting on LinkedIn. 

Not only was my post read by another nearly 2000 people, but it was shared 20 times and received just as many comments with equal amounts of personal inbox messages from other scholars who shared my experience of spiritual, mental and emotional recovery after completing graduate degree programs. This was a captive audience. An audience who somehow resonated with my imperfection and with my ability to share one of my most vulnerable moments openly and honestly.

The reception to my article by my academic community made me think of two things. One, was a conversation I had with a friend during my Masters program. I told her that I wanted to be an advocate for LGBTQIA+ youth who were struggling to reconcile parts of their own identities and she said "Shine your light in the darkness and those who are in need will find you." The second was a conversation I had with my dissertation chair. She was telling me about a couple she knew who sold everything, moved to Maui and opened up a beverage shop and now loved it. I shared my own fleeting desires to do something similar; to give up everything and move to an island, and live a life free of all societies expectations and standards. Cheryl said to me then, if anyone could do it she believed I could. I looked at her probably quizzically, but honestly? Longingly...longing to hear what she thought of me and if it matched what I believed of myself at my very core, if I was being honest. 

She said to me, "You're so good at being uncomfortable. You should teach people that." "What?" I asked, confused by her comment. "You should teach people how to be uncomfortable." The conversation stayed with me all these years, even though I have never quite known how to make heads or tails of its meaning. How do you teach people to be uncomfortable and who would willingly sign up for anything of that nature? Turns out...there's a market for everything in this crazy capitalistic world, but specific to my field of leadership, teaching people how to be uncomfortable can just as easily mean, teaching people how to endure transitions and teaching people how to survive through change. This was something that stretched well beyond the ivory tower, change was something that our very nation was struggling with embracing and grieving through. 

I went back to re-read my article over and over again. Looking for something that made it stand out, something that served as a hook or a buzzword that would've served as a clue to why so many people were receptive to its message. Finally, I settled on the fact that the appeal was in the delivery. When I wrote that post, I was feeling the emotions. I was months into struggling with the nagging symptoms of anxiety and depression. I was unmedicated and questioning my professional choices, my personal choices and wondering if I had done the right thing. In short, I was in it and my post came from a place of raw, honesty. I wrote from the arena. 

That, I decided, is my gift. And that is why there is power in my own voice. There is power in my voice because I speak through uncertainty, through paradox, and from a place of soul-bare honesty. I don't claim to have answers. I tell what works for me, but I push people to consider what would work for them. Working with people, figuring out the very hardest problems in their lives is the thing I love to do best. And the response of my article helped me to find my way back to that. 

When I thought of beginning a marketing campaign, selling myself to colleges and universities, writing to department chairs, directors of centers and VPSAs, my stomach turned. There is a tendency in higher education to want a tangible outcome. To know that if I spend my money on a person or a product that I will receiving something in return that will be of use to my campus community. I thought of developing tool-kits. Making powerpoints, though anyone who has ever had a class or workshop with me knows well, that I hate formal presentations. I thought that my work was worth less without my book published or articles in top academic journals that affirm who I am and that I actually do what I say I can do. I considered shaking down my LinkedIn connections, asking colleagues for introductions and opportunities to speak, host workshops, facilitate trainings, lead conversations, guest lecture, etc. I thought about it all and then I remembered my own "and". 

My name is Jessica Jamese Williams, PhD I am a sister, a daughter, and a child of the most high. And, I am a dynamic and engaging higher education professional who wants to transition to consulting and public speaking, authoring books, screenplays, and other written works that tell stories of people who are flawed, imperfect, artistic, struggling and real. And, I am a black woman from the booming Southern city of Atlanta, a city that runs in my veins no matter where I reside geographically. And, I am also a survivor of assault, and trauma which makes me a professional with mental health challenges. Challenges that severely impair and limit my emotional energy and capacity for prolonged engagement. 

I tell myself that the power in my voice is one that cannot be ignored because people are drawn to beauty and my story is beautiful. My redemption is beautiful. My resilience is beautiful. My growth, determination, compassion and reverence for the human experience is beautiful. I have come not only to see my own beauty but to appreciate the varied beauty in us all. The acceptance of my whole self is the single greatest way to extend acceptance and empathy to others. Someone may not have meant for you to survive or thrive, or even feel beautiful but that someone does not author your story, you do. People want to see the beauty in themselves and when they do, they'll come to me and I'll help them find it. It will be because the sharing of my story, my testimony, is my way of shining my light in the darkness. The ways that feel right to me are the ways that my journey are supposed to unfold. The timing is not up to me, and nothing I do is going to change that.

and when we speak we are afraid
our words will not be heard
nor welcomed
but when we are silent
we are still afraid
So it is better to speak
remembering
we were never meant to survive”

~Audre Lorde 

So I welcome opportunities to share my story. I welcome speaking engagements. I welcome coffee dates. I welcome true and real connection with other people who are ready to find the power in their own voice. I welcome lectures. I welcome classes. I welcome text messages and tweets that ask questions for which I have no answers but lots of thoughts. I welcome it all because I realize now purpose and vocation are not stations in life or how you are, they are who you are. As my reach and influence grows, My work becomes to remember who I am and to now allow my ego to try and redefine me. The tragedies of my lifetime give me depth and add knots to my wood that give me a story to tell. My job is to keep sharing, to stay faithful, to stay ready, and to always remember the power in my own voice.  That gift is bigger than can be contained.