From now on, I’m choosing to value presence over perfection.
Leadership is hard.
Leadership is lonely.
As the saying goes, “it’s lonely at the top.”
As someone in a high-profile, public position, I have felt loneliness and isolation more than I care to count. Couple this with the fact that I’m a 40-something, heterosexual, married, mother of three, Black woman serving in elected office and the number of people that qualifies to fit in my village who can relate to my trials and tribulations becomes slim pickings.
That’s why showing up has become my love language. I don’t care how famous or busy I get, I’m going to show up for the people and things that matter! When my friends have milestone moments, like birthdays, baby showers, weddings, graduations, promotions, awards, I’m going to drop everything to be there in person. Recently since becoming an elected, I’m met with surprised looks when my friends see me show up to their functions as if to say “I can’t believe you made it.” Of course I made it! Just because I’m a state senator doesn’t mean my friendships and connections mean any less to me. And best believe when I’m in yo city, I’m going to pull up. We’re going to dinner, brunch, happy hour- something!- because I expect the same loving gesture in return.
But I’ve had to learn too many hard times that not everyone speaks this love language. I can’t help it that I expect reciprocity, that I believe that I should do unto others as I would want done to me, that I believe in the golden rule, that I expect the best in everyone, that I expect to have the same meaning in their lives as they do in mine.
Silly me.
This type of disappointment sets in every time I plan large-scale events. You’d think I would know better by now.
However, what I do know to be true since stepping into public office – or any ascension to prestige or leadership, for that matter – you find out who your real friends are and who is really there to support you. And I move accordingly.
There are those who:
– Can, but won’t.
– Can’t, and don’t.
– Don’t, and won’t.
– Watch, and critique.
– Would love to, but truly can’t.
– And then there are the ones who can and will—without hesitation.
The ones who never ask, “how much are you paying me?” just, “what time and where do you need me to show up?”
Fast forward to this past week. It was an emotional one filled with disappointment and grief. And through it all, my family and true riders showed up.
In the days leading up to my fundraiser event, The Regal Revival, I was battling discouragement. After pouring my time, energy, and money into creating something beautiful—a sacred space for sisterhood, faith, and fellowship—I kept getting messages that folks couldn’t make it. The RSVPs dropped. The seats weren’t full. And I started internalizing that disappointment with resentment.
To top it off, the event was not fully planned. Tables, chairs and linens weren’t rented. No florals, no decor booked. Still didn’t have all my speakers lined up. It was starting took look like a trainwreck with just six days until doors opened.
I experienced deep disappointment from folks who said they’d show up but didn’t. Obviously, I understand life happens, things come up, and there will be a ‘flake rate’ – those attendees who drop off at the last minute. But it doesn’t make the sting hurt any less, especially when I’m asking supporters to show up for me in the selfless way that I believe I show up for my community.
Then, on the same night of my fundraiser, I received a devastating phone call from my sisters with news that our cousin was tragically killed in a motorcycle accident caused by a drunk driver in Houston, TX. The grief hit hard. The contrast was sharp.
But in both moments—the letdowns and the loss—my family showed up. Just like they always do.
At the eleventh hour before my fundraiser, my older sister swooped in like she always does—bringing the vision to life with her magic touch on the décor. And while it wasn’t the 100 women I’d hoped would fill seats, it was the right women. The ones who were supposed to be there. The ones who poured into me and reminded me why I do this work.
I’m in a season where I only have capacity for those who say yes—those who show up, and stand in the gap.
Because the truth is: some people say they support you, but their actions never quite match their words. And others? They show up without question, without fanfare, and without fail. On may occasions for me, that has been family.
I’m immensely grateful to my family. When the moment calls, they rise. They hold me down. With them, there’s no hesitation. No excuses. No “but…“
This week, my family and I will come together once again—this time, to lay to rest a loved one taken from us too soon. When my cousin asked me to speak at the funeral, I said yes. When my sister was asked to plan the repast, she said yes. That’s who family is. Death is a stark reminder that family means everything and comes before everything; enjoy them before it’s too late.
And there is nothing more dependable than the people who truly show up for you—in joy, in crisis, in mourning, in the messy middle.
My biggest takeaway from this past week: I spent too much energy on the negative that I forgot to value the positive. I was so focused on who didn’t show up, I missed the blessing in who did. I was so focused on meeting the goal of wanting 100 women attendees that I failed to honor the 89 or so who came ready to pour, pray, and be present.
Sometimes, the real abundance isn’t in the number—it’s in the intention and the sincerity of those who show up.
Silly me.
