photo by Lara Herscovitch

One of the exercises in CLP is about identifying and clarifying our personal values. We each identify our top five values, writing one each on five index cards. Then we have to drop one, and another… until we are left holding the card with our number one, top value. What is your current One right now and why?

I most certainly remember that exercise; it was probably the most emotionally and spiritually taxing exercise that I did at CLP. “Taxing,” as it forced me to separate and prioritize values that hold and guide me, while functioning as their own community within me — especially faith, and love.

Can you say more about what you mean by love?

Love wrought from the truest, and hopefully deepest understanding of oneself, while expressing and demonstrating an unwavering dedication and commitment to others. The extent that one is willing to offer their whole self to the world, with the hope that the world would be inspired — and transformed — by what is being offered.

And then they choose to inspire other people?

Yes, the catalytic impact of love — an undying inspiration that moves people to a place where they ultimately feel safe and seen.

I’m curious about how you see or feel the relationship between love and faith – does that connection come from self-love, religion, Kingian work, or somewhere else?

Faith is “hope in action;” bearing witness, responding, and reacting to the vision or visions I have, while not needing physical verification or certainty.

Love guides me through the “hope and faith” equation. I believe hope, faith, and love are the cornerstones to effective community impact.

Were you raised in a faith tradition?

I was not raised in a faith tradition; I rarely attended church while growing up.

What do you mean by faith, and how did you find your way there?

I’ll answer the last one first. I found my way to a “F”aith in the divine with a capital F, when I met my then-girlfriend who became my wife. She was raised in the church, with a deep belief in God, actually in the triune God — God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit.

I had no real religious experience. I was in my mid-twenties, and just madly in love with her, I wanted to marry this young lady. Her mom said, in order to marry my daughter, you have to come to church. And I said, of course, I’ll go to church.

I go to church, where I was introduced to The Holy Bible. I was and remain an avid reader — and The Bible, to my surprise, satisfied and inspired my curiosity about the world from philosophical and theological lenses. Why do people do the things that they do, and think the way they think. Why are some things obscured and some things very, very, very clear in the world. I had always thought about these things, and always thought about them as it relates to Black communities.

The turning point was a spiritual experience — while in church service — that made all the things I had thought about very clear and real.

Would you like to say more about that?

The way I thought, the spiritual experience, the way I wanted to live my life — all these things were disparate until I had a spiritual experience and awakening. Things made sense to me, I brought them all together in me at once and they continue to walk with me.

And so that was my first mature understanding that there’s a power greater than any thought that I may have, or any accomplishment, or accolades I attain. It’s the very essence and foundation of humility; a deeper acknowledgement and revelation that my life — or anyone else’s life — is not mere happenstance, but purposeful, thus powerful.

The evidence of Spirit has really created a path for me to do the work that I do now. Meaning, as I look to build community, connection with people, I seek to identify the dreams, hope, and power within that have not yet been manifested; most often lying dormant within the spirit of an individual, since the conditions in community are not conducive to dreaming outwardly.

I believe our dreams are the most salient part of our identity. All things came together for the purpose of giving people an identity, including myself.

What a powerful transition.

I believe intellect gives shape, language and dimension to and for spirit. If I depended solely on intellect, my life would’ve had very little purpose, I would be living a life in direct conflict with faith, and love, and void of human connectivity.

In essence, I believe, in large part, I’ve achieved a certain level of success because of being intentional about connecting to the dreams, hopes, and power held within people. My work is centered on this fact, and has clearly served me well, given everything that I have been able to achieve — especially as it relates to building community.

I’m curious what you think or feel about the intense evidence right now of hope, and also lack of hope?

When people suffer, it is because they’ve given up hope. It is not just because of the conditions that create the suffering. It is also because they stop fighting back. And I believe hope is inspired by love; true inspiration happens when you aren’t trying to inspire. That’s why demonstrations, expressions of love are so important, as they will speak for you.

My teenage years were saturated with feelings of invisibility, shame, powerlessness — all wrought from, and affirmed by poverty. Hope is the thing that got me through the day; pushing me forward while praying for safety, and that someone, and/or something will save me, save us, or at least see me.

I believe hope, especially, is the seed of love. I don’t think I could ever experience love without the initial presence of hope. In the end, what I wanted was to know I was loved.

What is one big, burning leadership question you are wrestling with these days?

What will I do next?

I believe everything that I do I was called to do. And I believe that when one is called, you know it because what you’re doing chooses you.

There’s so much in the world that I want to address or even speak to; I just wait to hear what is presented to me to do next. So, the leadership challenge for me is patience, and being able to really listen to what is out there in the world. Most often, it’s not the big sounds — but whispers that I think only those who are called to hear, can hear.

When you are in a place like that, is it that your current work feels complete, or that you’re generally open to what might emerge?

I get to a place where I believe that whatever it is that I’ve been able to do, it should be given to somebody else. I believe the offering of the sum of my work to someone else is sacred.

I don’t know what it is for me, but I want to be thoughtful and prayerful about what may be coming or what may be next. I really love building, and creating things, while identifying, and unearthing the sacred within the profane.

I see so much. And not only do I see a lot, but people trust me a lot to share about the things that they’re dealing with, and how they’re being treated, their dreams, aspirations, et cetera, and so that makes me a little impatient, as I see all things as urgent, especially things that are unjust.

That’s the leap of faith, right? Trusting that the path is there even when you can’t see it.

My life is the sum of that. Not knowing the next step. Not knowing the next meal, as a young person. That is really the subtext to the way I’ve had to live. That I had to have faith that if I do this, I’ll be ok.

Back to hope.

Exactly. Had to have hope to have faith.

Something so present to me these days, especially if you’re an organizational leader — the relationship that one has with the people who you work with. I think that is just so, so important. I can’t stress it enough. Leading an organization — the people are more important than the programs. I think that’s important that leaders, or future leaders, must understand and hopefully believe.

How we treat people is more important than how we run programs. So important.

And it changes how we run programs.

Absolutely. Absolutely.

What inspires you, gives you hope these days?

What inspires me are my four daughters: Kiara, Nyle, Nia, Kai. They just surpass anything that I had ever dreamed of for them. These young women are absolutely tenacious in terms of achieving their goals, building community, loving people. And because of that, they are living a life of success — even in the midst of the tragic death of their mother.

To watch them is to know that there is something beyond anyone’s suffering, if you continue to walk according to the light that is within you. I believe we all have a light. And these young women are just being guided by that inner light, they really are. And being guided by each other’s light. They’re amazing.

This is the first time I’ve ever said this out loud — they are the north, south, east and west of me. Either direction I walk, each one is standing there in that direction.

What inspires me are the people that I work with. Who, every day, make a conscious decision to advance the missions of both these organizations — while at the same time discovering things about themselves that they probably didn’t bet on.

They’re discovering these things because they are doing this work. You can’t do this work and help people, and not discover things about yourself. Things that you may need help with, or things that are really beautiful about you. Watching them and their moments of self-discovery, it just does it all for me. I mean that. And to know that I had a hand in them getting to know the power that is within means everything to me.

And also, what gives me hope and inspires me is the idea of all people — no matter what race or class — moving towards one another. I think a lot of times people either think I only love Black people or I don’t like white people, because of the work that I do that is almost exclusively about lifting up Black people and Black communities. I do that and I show deep affection and love for Black people because mostly, non-Black people don’t.

It doesn’t mean that my love for other people is minimized or in any way not there. That’s not the truth at all, I love all people. But I believe that I’ve been able to — for whatever reason — serve as a bridge between those who have everything, and those who have nothing. I’ve been able to acquire a language for both, in a way that communicates the beauty, the suffering, the longing, the yearnings of both places and spaces. And I’ve been believable in that regard.

I relish that. I really do. That gives me a lot of inspiration and hope, when I’m able to bring people together who otherwise would never be together.

That to me is the calling. That’s the thing, the essence of my existence. Because if we don’t all come together, we will all perish. How much one has gained in the world does not matter, we all need one another.

We’re seeing such powerful evidence of both – a beautiful coming together, alongside such intense, intentional separation.

Yes. In the coming together are those who have embraced self-discovery and have the courage to move towards and take steps towards one another. And in those who are remaining separate, has everything to do with self-preservation and the preservation of one’s identity.

And so again, when people come together and I’ve had a hand in that in some way, that gives me a lot of hope and I’m so inspired by that. Because that to me is the essence of right.

Hearing you reflect about playing a role in others’ self-discovery, I’m curious if you allow yourself space for that too – to play a role in your own self-discovery?

That’s a great question. Absolutely. You can’t teach unless you learn. I’ve learned, I’ve discovered so much about myself and my tolerance for uncertainty.

We did a huge community engagement effort in Dixwell, because we’re building this large development on Dixwell Avenue at the plaza. It wasn’t going well, quite frankly, from my perspective. I would sit with folks in the community and talk about what we were planning to do, and the why of our work: aggressively addressing poverty in this neighborhood that has languished in poverty for decades. Bringing utility, services, all the things the community was saying they wanted, needed and yearned for. Some really tough discussions.

We have these beautiful design boards; we’re going to build a performing arts center, and restaurants, all these things. But a lot of folks weren’t feeling it, and I didn’t understand why.

This woman pulled me to the side one night. She said, “Mr. Clemons, we love you, but we don’t know you.”

In that moment I realized the mistake I was making. I was leading with the project as opposed to letting them know who I was. I didn’t formally or properly introduce myself, as much as I introduced the project. And then I asked myself, why didn’t I lead with myself, because I always do?

I realized I had some undealt-with trauma around growing up poor. I had a bias against the very people I was trying to help. Because in my mind, I was like, ‘how dare you not accept what we are trying to do.’ I realized I had some pent-up frustration about having to be in such proximity — real proximity — and in deep conversation with some people who are living the way I used to live. The symptoms jarred me a little bit, it brought something back to me.

It didn’t allow me to see the person, I just saw the condition of the person. I think I was showing up as help, as opposed to a human being. And I think I was talking to a problem, as opposed to a human being. I was speaking to the problems.

I imagine there also was a wanting to fix the problems now?

That was part of it, you’re right. I wanted to help. They didn’t care about help, they just wanted to know me. Once I understood that, and became comfortable with that, I learned so, so much. For me it was about trying to get these people to trust me, when in fact I didn’t even trust them. I had to first get myself to a place to trust them as much as I wanted them to trust me.

It was deep. It was very deep. And so revealing in terms of the person that I am and the person that I want to be. I realized I wasn’t there yet. As much as I convinced myself that I was, I’m not.

What a gift that she pulled you aside; you did something right in how you showed up that she trusted you enough to tell you.

And loved me enough to tell me that.

That’s the love that I’m talking about. That’s the love. The love from this woman who didn’t even know me, but she said, “son, listen…” That’s wisdom. Let me pull you to the side; I don’t care how much money you have, how smart you think you are, doesn’t matter.

And then, the love of myself to say, you know what man, you’ve got to do this different, get yourself together before you present yourself to the people.

I’m guessing she was also bringing hope that you meant it. You rang the doorbell; she didn’t open the door, but she opened that little hatch in the door and said, ‘that’s not the password,’ and let you ring the doorbell again. Instead of turning out the light with ‘no one’s home.’ [laughing] What an act of generosity, but also a belief and a hope and faith on her part in you.

[laughing] Amen. Exactly. Like, “I’m gonna open the door, but you’d better get it right first.”

That was a huge discovery on my part. As much as I create spaces and places where people can discover themselves and the world, that was a huge discovery for me.

Thank you for sharing. And as you suggest, the work of transformational change is hard. Stepping in, stepping up, over time, can be draining – physically, intellectually, emotionally, psychically, or spiritually. How do you recharge, restore, take care of yourself, rekindle your fire?

Physically, I’m a runner. I pray, I always give reverence to the divine that is much greater than me.

Secondly, I don’t micro-manage. When people say they’re ‘burned out’ – especially organizational leaders – it’s because they either don’t have the capacity to advance the mission in the way that they want to, or they do have the capacity and they’re probably in the weeds of the work of the people they hired to do the work.

I don’t do that. I lead, most often, from the back. My hope is that I mentor and model, and I ask questions of the people who work with me. I don’t say the people who work for me, because they work for the organization.

The people who work at ConnCORP and at ConnCAT, they run the organizations as I lead them. I don’t run the organizations. You hire people to do the work, and then you help them do that work, and help them see themselves in the work that they’re doing. I don’t get burned out, because I have people who come to work every day, doing their job, as I’m doing mine.

I’m a culture-first person. I think culture drives everything. What I’ve been able to do is create a culture of rigor, hope, courage, and of love.

When you walk into these two spaces, you feel those things. You feel hopeful. You feel the love being expressed, and you see the hard work that is being done on behalf of the communities that we serve. That’s intentional; that has very little to do with the paint and all of those things. That has everything to do with the spirit of the people who are in here. And that spirit is magnified because of the culture.

With that, I believe in laughter. I believe in treating people with kindness and thoughtfulness, all the time, especially in the workplace. Because that emphasizes and undergirds the culture. And so, I don’t necessarily think that people alone create organizations or great organizations. I think the culture creates the people who work in these great organizations.

I don’t think about taking care of myself. But I take care of myself by virtue of creating the spaces that take care of me, where I feel good and I’m with good people. Even on our worst day, we’re thoughtful, and kind, and rigorous, and loving. You have to be here. If you are not, you won’t last. You won’t. You can’t fake love.

The culture can change someone’s mind about who they could be, because of the space that they’re in. Or, the culture can be so non-conducive to who they are or who they want to be, that they try and change the culture through their own behavior. You can see it immediately. That’s why they don’t last — it’s not conducive to their spirit. People leave, culture stays!

It brings my mind to gardening or farming; when the soil is fertilized and there’s sun and rain, people grow.

There you go, that’s a perfect analogy. I remember when Esther Armmand came to me one day because she was thinking about doing some type of farming project in Newhallville or Dixwell. I had just put some flower beds on the side of ConnCAT because I wanted to grow fresh fruit, vegetables and herbs, so our culinary students could harvest and cook it, and serve it to the community.

She came and talked to me about growing up in Mississippi. Every morning, she had to go and harvest and do chores before going to school. She said, ‘Erik, most people in New Haven get it wrong. They care more about the harvest, the corn, all these things. What they don’t focus on is the soil. The soil is the most important part.’

I’ll never forget that. Culture is like the soil.

Are there any other practices you’d like to lift up, for staying healthy in the work?

A practice of being thoughtful and expressing kindness to the extent that one can. That, to me, keeps me healthy.

Just treating people with kindness and being thoughtful, doing the best you can to help them. It keeps me going, I’ll be honest with you. I’ve done good, and well in the world, in life, and am living a relatively privileged life right now, because I chose to help people. Bottom line. It’s the most fundamental tenet of our faith — just be kind to one another.

Be kind. I’ve done well in life because I follow that.

Would you introduce us to someone you are or were close with, who shaped (or shapes) you and how you view leadership and possibility for a better community or world?

I’m going to introduce you to someone I don’t even know.

In 2018, my wife and I took a quick trip to New Orleans. We stayed right downtown. Out of our hotel we’d take a left, and the street goes straight to the French Quarter. Each time I came out of the hotel and we took that left, I would see different homeless guys with signs. But always, this particular Black man, sitting there every morning when we left, and every afternoon when we came back.

On our last day, we had an evening flight. She’s like, ‘you know what, let’s go get some lunch.’

Spirit told me, ‘Give your sneakers away;’ they were new, and I said alright. I packed, and Sharon said, ‘you didn’t put your sneakers in.” I told her no, I’m going to give them away. In my mind, I was going to give them to the guy I saw sitting there every day.

We walked out of the hotel, turned the corner, and he wasn’t there. I said, “Oh my gosh, Sharon, the guy’s not even here.” She asks me who? I said, “the Black guy who’s always sitting here.” We walk up the long street towards the French Quarter, with these sneakers in my hand now. My wife says, “there’s a guy coming towards us, give him the sneakers.”

I looked at him, and thought no, I’m not giving him my sneakers, I wanted to give them to the other guy.

My wife said, “give him the sneakers, he’s the one you’re supposed to give the sneakers to.” From a distance, and here’s my bias, to me he just looked like a white guy coming towards me, he didn’t look like he needed sneakers. I said, “Sharon, I’m not giving him my sneakers, he doesn’t even need them. I’m going to wait and give them to the guy.” She just said, “give him the sneakers.”

As he got closer to me, I realized just by his appearance that he probably could use the sneakers. And, he wasn’t white. Again, my bias — I’m looking at this brother every day, like, “damn.”

The guy walks by me. I felt so embarrassed, and I turned around and called him. I said, “Excuse me, brother, I was told to give you these sneakers. They’re mine and I want to give them away, I want to give them to you.” I asked him, “What size are your shoes?” He was wearing his shoes with the back down, not fully on, almost like slippers. He told me they were a size 10.

I was disappointed, telling him I wear an 11. But he slid his feet out of his shoes, and I went to put the shoes on him. I said, “These are an 11, they’re not going to fit.” He said, “You asked me what size are my shoes. They’re a 10. I wear an 11.”

So now my wife is crying, I’m crying as I’m tying his shoes, and he was so happy, he hugged himself. He said, “I was praying for new shoes this morning.”

True story.

It revealed a lot to me about myself. In my wanting this journey to self-actualize, wanting to be loving — I’m not there yet, as much as I try to convince myself that I am there. Whatever ‘there’ is. You can’t be deeply or authentically loving with conditions.

Spirit told me to give the sneakers to someone, not to that one man specifically. My wife understood that. It was a profound moment provided by a stranger. Someone that I will probably never see again in life. But it deeply moved me and made me really think about who I am and who it is that I want to be.

Thank you for sharing and for taking the time. In concluding, what do you recommend to us, in each of these categories:
  • Reading – James Baldwin, No Name in the Street. A must-read.
  • Listening – Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s speech at Riverside Church on the Vietnam War. It’s incredible. Music, “Harvest For The World,” The Isley Brothers.
  • Eating – French Fries at Orchid Café.
  • Watching – Reruns of Sanford and Son, seasons 1 to 3.
  • Laughing – I recommend laughing with the people you work with every day.
  • Wildcard – your choice – I think one of the most powerful things you can say to anyone is “hello.” Because when you say hello to somebody, you’re telling them that you see them. And when people feel seen, they have hope. If people have hope, they feel loved. Our ultimate goal is to love.

Get in touch with Erik directly: eclemons@conncat.org or eclemons@conncorp.org

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