Herocrats Spotlights

Herocrat Spotlight: Medical Countermeasures Coordinator Gabriela Hurtado

Gabriela Hurtado is a Medical Countermeasures Coordinator for the City of Long Beach, CA. In the past two years, she expanded existing city pandemic preparedness plans to develop citywide testing, and, when the time came, helped create a citywide vaccination effort to serve the 400,000+ community members of Long Beach.  

“To operationalize our plans for the test sites, we basically took our anthrax plan and adjusted it for COVID-19. It's not like it was all from scratch, but we were creative and able to build on that existing knowledge to serve the community.”

Hurtado partnered with government agencies across the city to develop a unified effort against COVID-19, with the goal of creating accessible test sites and vaccines for all community members. 

Hurtado began her career with the City of Long Beach as an intern in 2012, building community awareness of emergency preparedness measures. In the nine years since, she has helped develop the emergency management division; In particular, Gabriela assisted with HIV surveillance efforts, flu vaccine rollouts, and bioterrorism preparedness before focusing in on pandemic preparedness in 2019, and putting skills into practice in early 2020. 

“Vaccines are really my niche so it was exciting when I was able to participate in the vaccine rollout. Vaccination is something that we are really well versed in as a department because we do a flu vaccination every year. We took our plan that we practice every year with the flu vaccine, swapped out the flu, and inserted the COVID vaccine.”

Long Beach Public Health Nurses drawing up COVID-19 vaccines at the Convention Center. Source: Gabriela Hurtado.

Long Beach Public Health Nurses drawing up COVID-19 vaccines at the Convention Center. Source: Gabriela Hurtado.

Throughout a year and a half of pandemic management, Hurtado has juggled the opinions of stakeholders, community members, and public health officials in developing a just pandemic response. 

“I think in all of this, the most difficult part was that for so long we did our job and no one noticed. I think that's a good thing, right? Because that means we're doing our job well. But when COVID-19 happened, all of a sudden everyone was an emergency manager, an epidemiologist, a statistician. I think that was really difficult because our entire team serves as subject matter experts, but then you have politics come into play. And It's challenging when everything on the news or social media is negative all the time. It's so divisive and polarizing that I have to remind myself and our team constantly, ‘we're doing this for everyone else, not just for us’. I think that really helps.

I think that one of the other really challenging pieces is trying to reinstate ourselves as a trustworthy entity. Because we would never ask the community to do something that we wouldn't do ourselves. Trying to navigate that was really difficult; specifically, trying to make sure that all of our communities of color were getting the information and not just getting it, but understanding it and knowing that it came from a trustworthy source. I think those are probably the two hardest parts of this pandemic from an emergency management standpoint.” 

Amidst the myriad of challenges brought on by the past two years as a Medical Countermeasures Coordinator, Gabriela has taken on a role as a public health authority and community spokesperson in the COVID-19 response in Long Beach, CA. 

Command staff that led the Convention Center-Public Health Emergency Management team, Fire Department, and National Guard. Source: Gabriela Hurtado.

Command staff that led the Convention Center-Public Health Emergency Management team, Fire Department, and National Guard. Source: Gabriela Hurtado.

“I've never been in this type of leadership position before where there's so many people looking to me for information or answers. I have to remind myself that a lot of people are going to feed off of my energy. If I'm stressed and overwhelmed, everybody else is going to feel that too. So I have to remind myself that it's okay to have off-days or off-moments, but  just because it's a bad moment, doesn’t mean it's a bad day.” 

I always remember the day that we went down to the convention center and they were like, ‘okay, Gabby what do you want to see? How do you want us to set this up?’ I literally said, ‘I want this to look and feel like Disneyland’. At the time we were seeing up to 6,000 people a day. And, we had signage everywhere and everyone was so happy to see the next person in line. It  was not just our team being happy to see this next person getting vaccinated, but it was also the community sharing their gratitude and their hope from a vaccine, which I think is my favorite piece of all of this.”

Gabriela overseeing the drive thru vaccine clinic at the Convention Center. At the height of vaccination, 6,000 residents passed through the Convention Center daily. Source: Gabriela Hurtado.

Gabriela overseeing the drive thru vaccine clinic at the Convention Center. At the height of vaccination, 6,000 residents passed through the Convention Center daily. Source: Gabriela Hurtado.

Herocrat Spotlight: Meleesa Johnson builds understanding of the public policy process

“In this time of division, how can we build one another up? How can we support one another? How can we build capacity? How do we help people to understand this is hard work? Don't ever think for a minute that this is easy.

We need to set a policy agenda that is not reactive to attacks, but one in which we can work collaboratively to advance sound public policy. And it has to go beyond just one little community, to a broader level.

I'm trying to demystify the budget process so that people, when they show up for a budget meeting, don't think ‘I don't want to ask a question because I don't want to look stupid.’ I'm trying to help shed some basic light on the public finance process so that people can understand. What are the expenses, where's the money coming from and what are all these special funds? What does it all mean?

This is an education job. And it's worth it. Especially when you recognize that you're not alone, even though you feel like you are sometimes. I want my legacy to live on in the capacity of other people. And so you lift them up, you build them up, you give them tools, you guide them, you find their strengths and build on them. That's what we should be doing. And that's what someone did for me. And that's why I try to do it for others.”

Meleesa Johnson is a public servant that holds dual roles as an elected official and government employee. Meleesa Johnson was elected to the Stevens Point City Council to represent the fifth district in 2016, and was elected President of the body by her peers just one year later. She also has 10+ years of experience as a public servant directing the Marathon County Solid Waste Department, and is currently serving her 3rd term as a Supervisor for the Portage County Board.

Herocrat Spotlight: IT Director Elizabeth Lo

Elizabeth Lo is an IT Director in Bedford County, VA with nearly twenty years of government experience.

“I’m currently working in Bedford County in Southwest Virginia. It’s very rural compared to Minneapolis. There are a lot of hills and mountains— it’s right by the Appalachian trail and edge of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

I run the IT shop here. We have 11 full time IT employees including myself. There is a lot of great talent within the group. We're really trying to do the right thing and do things right. At organizational level, the IT Department supports internal county departments and those departments who support and serve the community. Technology is changing so fast and just keeping up with everything is very challenging. It used to be that there was a very specific skill set in terms of being a programmer/developer, but that’s changed quite a bit.

The technology field has expanded to include business analysis, project management, GIS, and more. A big part of IT is now about being a good communicator in order to help staff and leadership navigate technology toward achieving the County's goals and mission.

The bad actors are very clever and sophisticated in their approach. They're everywhere. What I've explained to people in my organization is that we're not hidden from these bad actors. You feel like since you’re in Southwest Virginia, nobody's paying attention to you, but every week we block 35,000+ external phishing attempts from across the world.

There’s a lot of collaboration between state, federal, and the local county. There can be moments of conflict and cross purposes between the various levels of government. But when we do come together, when we actually know what our purpose is, what we're trying to achieve, we really knock it out of the park.

Everybody talks about the bureaucratic red tape, but there’s a flip side— the green tape. Those rules that actually help. They pull everything together. They’re not just policy, but policy with purpose that we understand. You know what the purpose is, the policy is consistently being applied across the board, and well-communicated. A big part of government is providing that structure in a way that actually moves things forward. Green tape is what I think we need more of, not less of. Unfortunately, a lot of people say that if you have a rule, then it's red tape and that is not necessarily always the case.”

Herocrat Spotlight: Dawn Beck Brings Her Lived Experience to Work

“I'm the child of an incarcerated parent. I wasn't okay with sharing that with anyone until I was in my forties.

I worked for Olmsted County for nearly 20 years. In 2017, the Minnesota State Community Health Services Advisory Committee, a group of county commissioners and public health directors, formed the Children of Incarcerated Parents Workgroup. The group was charged with advancing how Minnesota and local governments can better support children of incarcerated parents. At that point in Minnesota, having an incarcerated parent was the most frequently reported adverse childhood experience.

After I heard about the workgroup, I went to Olmsted County Commissioner Sheila Kiscaden—one of the group’s co-chairs to let her know that I was the child of an incarcerated parent, and that I was willing to help by giving insight from the child’s perspective.

I felt really courageous because it's not something that we’d ever talked about. A few months later, she called and said, ‘I just talked to your boss and asked if you could participate in the workgroup.’ After I joined, I found out I was the only person with the lived experience of parental incarceration serving on the workgroup. Advocating for families and children affected by incarceration has since become a calling.

When we plan to engage communities, it’s important to include community leaders and those that care about their community, and it’s vital to hear from those who might feel disengaged, the people who have lived through the issue. In order to appropriately address systemic issues, including the voices of lived experience is essential.

Ultimately, the group did accomplish its original charge, which was to study the issue in Minnesota and come back with recommendations. The big takeaway is that we need to raise awareness in order to change attitudes and move to action. Kids with parents in jail or prison don't talk about it, and teachers don't know about the traumatic experiences these kids may have encountered. There’s a huge lack of awareness. When we you start talking about it, people say things like, ‘‘those criminals did a crime, so I don't feel bad for them.’ They assume that there are services and systems for addressing the impact of parental incarceration on the kids, but there aren’t.

Although I was set to be the workgroup co-chair in 2021, I was nearing the end of a special assignment with Olmsted County and made the leap to starting my own consulting business. I’m still working on the issue as a strategic advisor for the Juvenile Justice Advisory Committee of Minnesota and other organizations with missions in support of families experiencing incarceration.”

Dawn with her grandsons

Dawn with her grandsons

Dawn Beck worked for Olmsted County, MN for 19 years. She currently runs New Dawn Consulting, where she helps organizations transform individuals, teams, and communities with strengths-based leadership and team development, organizational excellence via talent optimization and collaborative problem-solving.

Herocrats in Action: Melissa Wiley

“Every person on the earth needs to speak their truth. People’s lives get bad or good depending on how comfortable they are with speaking their truth. If they can’t, it can lead to depression. If they can, they can bring it out in other people. They can help people live their best lives.

Public speaking is a way for me to speak my truth. My face was disfigured in a dog attack when I was a child. As a young adult I was the happiest when nobody mentioned it. I lived in fear of people asking blunt questions. I wanted to reinvent myself and have a new chapter.

In grad school I had a public speaking professor, Buck Benedict, who encouraged me to give an inspirational speech about being attacked and how I dealt with it. I thought, ‘what if I did, and it gave me the power back? I’d no longer be at the mercy of people’s questions.’ I gave my speech and you could have heard a pin drop. Buck sat in the front row and stayed with me. He said it was one of the best speeches her ever heard.

That was the beginning of my journey in how my life improved and how much connection I’ve been able to make with people. I take it to my work in local government where I open up spaces full of grace and ask people to speak truthfully.

I do this exercise with government employees in which I ask them to finish this sentence: ‘I want to innovate, but. . .’ In their answers, the number one category is always people. Usually, co-workers and bosses.

So the barriers to serving the community better are the people they see every day. We can’t tell citizens that ‘the reason you don’t have this service is that I don’t like my co-worker.’ We need to humanize each other and listen to each other’s stories.”

Melissa Wiley is the Deputy Town Administrator in Erie, Colorado.

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Herocrats in Action: Jordan Laslett

When Jordan Laslett was hired for the summer of 2018 as an AmeriCorps VISTA at the City of Philadelphia, he was energized. A rising senior in college, he knew that this job was a foot in the door in government, where he wanted to make his career. It wasn’t well-paid; he did the math and it would have worked out to about $13,000 for a year’s work. But it paid the bills and allowed him to do innovative work with the community, coordinating a career empowerment fair to teach others how to get jobs in state and local government.

As project manager of this initiative, he got to work with other interns around the City, including those in the Mayor’s Internship Program. Jordan worked side by side with a handful of them to implement the career empowerment fair, which was a success.

They became friends, and throughout the experience, the interns joked about the fact that they were doing the same work, but Jordan was being paid and they weren’t. The dozens of young people who served in the Mayor’s Internship Program were working as volunteers, with no guarantee of a future job in the agency. After hearing their stories over many lunches, Jordan got passionate that they, too, should be paid for their work. He also recognized that the interns who were able to work for free were, in a sense, the lucky ones. How many people with less financial means were excluded from the program?

At the end of the summer, Jordan was left with a few weeks on his contract and nothing left to do on his assigned project. So he checked with his intern friends and asked if they would support him making the case that interns in their program should be paid. They did. With that, he got to work gathering the data he needed to make a surprise presentation on the topic at the big end-of-the-summer event: 

“I did not start off by telling my supervisors about it. It was one of those things where it was like, I know this was going to ruffle feathers and I knew that there were a few key folks that knew that I was working on something for the interns but I made it very abundantly intentional to not really expose my hand too much, knowing the Mayor was going to be there, knowing HR was going to be there. At the time I had this streak in me.”

Jordan worried that making a scene at the final presentation could ruin his chances for a career in government, or at least at the City of Philadelphia. But he pressed forward and gathered the data. Meeting with the interns frequently, he passed out surveys that asked about their commutes, their rent and expenses, whether a third party was sponsoring them, and so on. He also did the math on what a paid internship program would cost: he calculated it would only be $80,000 to pay 50 interns minimum wage for 25 hours a week in the summer.

When the big day arrived, Jordan was ready. When he was called up for his presentation, he asked the other interns to come up front and join him. It got immediately uncomfortable in the room when as began to share each other’s stories of working as unpaid interns. For an hour, in front of the city’s senior staff and the public, Jordan presented the data and argued that if they city wanted to live up to its progressive values, it needed to pay its interns.

After the presentation, a journalist from Temple News who had been in the audience approached Jordan for an interview. The next day, he and his pitch for paying interns was featured on the newspaper’s front page. After that, he says, “it was a domino effect and everything moved quickly.” Other media picked up the story, and national advocacy organizations reached out to him to offer support. Within three months, the City of Philadelphia announced it would be paying its interns moving forward, a decision that has been met with celebration locally and nationally. And Jordan, personally, has experienced only positive feedback from city officials and staff.

Of course, at the beginning, he didn’t know it would turn out this way:

“I definitely put my neck out there without realizing it and I think I took a huge risk in terms of having that go nowhere and having nothing to show for the effort.”

It took immense courage for an intern to take this kind of stand. It also took the connection he had with other interns and supportive staff to formulate the proposal.

Today, Jordan is putting those same superpowers of courage and connection into his work as legislative assistant for State Representative Matt Bradford. Working with constituents with urgent needs is tough because it exposes system failings, and how they create pain for real people. Gaps in the systems affect their constituents, who come to him for solutions. Every day he’s faced with difficult situations, such as people potentially losing their homes due to issues like overdue electricity bills. 

How does he deal with the stress of the job, and the disappointment of witnessing unjust systems up close and personal every day? He grounds himself in his purpose, and why he chose public service. He takes satisfaction in building relationships with constituents and finding creative solutions for them. He notices and documents opportunities for improvement, then identifies the right time and decision-maker to bring them to for consideration.

But what is his #1 strategy for keeping healthy, sane, and motivated as a Herocrat trying to make systems work better for people? He latches onto the success stories and savors them. Like that time he saw his shot to get city hall interns paid, and he took it. 

Ling Becker, Workforce Development Dynamo

Ling Becker leads a team of 80 employees in Ramsey County, Minnesota, that provides workforce services and programs to jobseekers while also supporting businesses. This is no small challenge in a region with significant disparities based on race, and a workforce system that often falls short.

In the face of these systemic issues, Ling brings an unusual amount of energy, connection, and out-of-the-box thinking to her work. I asked her how she does it, and here is what she shared.

What is your approach to changing systems?

One approach I rely on a lot is bringing others along the way with me. Many times different people along the continuum that help to bring services and resources to our community are removed from the impacts that their role makes. I think it is absolutely critical that all along the journey of our work, everyone has a chance to see the critical role they play.

An example is in the deployment of the county’s 2020 CARES Act funding. From day one, it was going to be a big lift to get these resources out to the community. However, the more everyone from our Procurement area, Information Services, and Communications Departments could understand who were helping and why we were doing what we were—it really helped to get significant buy in.

In our government work, we constantly have to remind ourselves that our work isn’t just about contracts, numbers, spreadsheets, names on a list—but rather these are real people, families, individuals who all need us to do our roles well, quickly and efficiently.

What has been most challenging for you in this work?

I think the challenge is that it often times it feels like we are never doing enough. A colleague of mine recently provided me some coaching to remind myself that in most situations two things can be true at the same time. I am constantly telling myself, yes—systems are broken, but yes—we are doing a lot of good work to try to make change.

What keeps you going? 

What keeps me motivated is continually recognizing the impact of even changing one life. We have significant economic and employment disparities in Ramsey County. I feel very fortunate to have an opportunity every day to make an impact and change personal outcomes for our residents but also lead systems change to ensure we are able to advance outcomes more equitably in the future for all residents.

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How do you handle the hard days?

I probably have not been doing very good at this. I’m really trying to remove my emotions more from my work. I take some time to reflect before I respond when I’ve had a hard day. I check in with people I trust to see if perhaps I need to look at things from a different angle. It is truly critical to have people that will hold you accountable.

Herocrats use their superpowers – connection, courage, and creativity – to lead change. Which of these do you use?

I really love connection. I get super motivated in talking to others who also want to make impactful change. Ultimately the work we do cannot be done by one individual. Rather, we need to have a multitude of players all doing their part to collectively move the dial to ensure that we build a more equitable economy for all in our community.

What else would you like to add?

One additional thing I have been reflecting on is that we all go farther when truly no one cares who gets the credit. I’ve seen time and time again the rewards of putting a full effort into something that is really created collectively.  I am learning a lot lately about seeding things, supporting, uplifting and then at a good time—moving away and seeing it bloom.

It feels good to realize we don’t need the credit and sometimes we are in a particular role for just a part of something that is a much bigger whole, but we don’t have to do all of the work.

We have to let everyone do what they are meant to do!

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Ling Becker is the Director of Workforce Solutions for Ramsey County and Executive Director of the Workforce Innovation Board of Ramsey County.  Ling oversees a department of 80 staff who deliver workforce services and programs to residents and businesses of Ramsey County.

Prior to that role, Ling was the Executive Director of the Vadnais Heights Economic Development Corporation serving the NE metro connecting businesses and local governments on economic development projects and programs. In that role, Ling lead several award-winning workforce partnerships with local school district and community colleges.

Ling is a graduate of the University of Minnesota Morris and holds a Master’s Degree in Public Administration from Syracuse University where she was a Woodrow Wilson Fellow. In 2018, she was a recipient of Minnesota Business Magazines REAL Power 50 Award for her work in helping businesses grow and expand in the NE metro area.

Herocrats in Action: Carrie Christensen

Carrie Christensen has been doing work at the the Minneapolis Park & Recreation Board (MPRB) that would be considered bold and innovative under regular circumstances. Given the crises in 2020, it’s even more remarkable. At a time when policymakers and community members can barely think beyond the most urgent issues in front of them, Carrie and her team have engaged around 5,000 people to create Parks for All, the long-term vision for Minneapolis’ parks and recreation system.

I interviewed Carrie to understand how she she did it. Here are some excerpts from our conversation.

How long have you been at the MPRB and what have you been working on there?

In April, it will be my 4 year anniversary! My work there is focused on park master planning, community engagement, interagency coordination on transportation related projects, and have been the staff lead on our comprehensive plan. After working as a consultant around the country for several years, it has been satisfying and grounding to focus my work in my own community.

What is Parks for All, and why is it important?

Parks for All, the Minneapolis Park and Recreation Board 2021 Comprehensive Plan, sets the agency policy priorities for the next decade of the Minneapolis park and recreation system. It is based on input from community, staff, organizational and agency partners, and elected officials.  

 How did you go about the process?

 I like to think of it as a participatory policy making process.  It involved many many voices and authors, with 1000s of people’s input. While it had its deep challenges working on a plan amidst a pandemic and social unrest, I think it also was an important backdrop that emphasized some of the historic inequities in our system that we want to dismantle in the future. This is a policy moment. MPRB’s comprehensive plan is an important container for policy change locally where we can apply things we learned, remembered, or saw amplified in the past year.

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 What else is different or new about this plan?

We also hired youth to staff the project. We call them the Youth Design Team. They were an amazing group of high schoolers from across Minneapolis that became experts on Minneapolis parks and rec and had a great impact on the plan. They made policy recommendations, facilitated community engagement, and generally provided critical thinking and creative style to the process and plan. We’ve also worked with some really talented local graphic designers, Keiko Takehashi and Background Stories, who have been amazing at helping us make the document welcoming and fun to read – which is really important when the audience is so broad!

 What has been most challenging in developing the plan? What barriers did you encounter?

It’s been challenging to engage leadership throughout the process, especially in the past year with COVID, since their plates are so full and like so many other public agencies are focused on being reactive/responsive to the challenges locally and internationally. Comprehensive planning, on the other hand, is a very proactive and intentional mode of decision making. Our team has worked hard to foster a creative, inclusive, and data-driven plan for our future.

 What about it has been positive?

We have deeply engaged with community, staff, leadership, and agency partners, centering equity in the process. I am a firm believer in the idea that the more diverse perspectives you have working on an issue, the more effective and innovative the solution will be.  While thousands of people have engaged in the plan, over 120 people actually helped write the plan from a range of disciplines, ages, ethnic/racial identities, and roles.

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Herocrats use their superpowers – connection, courage, and creativity – to lead change. Which of these did you draw on? Can you give an example?

Oh, all of them! I’m so grateful to have the Herocrats language to help me name the important ingredients in the recipe for navigating complex systems (and not burning out!)

What else would you like to add?

For information about the process and to check out the draft plan, visit bit.ly/MPRBCompPlan. The public comment period is open until July 18, 2021.

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Carrie Christensen is a Senior Planner at the Minneapolis Park and Recreation Board, where she works on park policy, design, and community engagement.With a Masters of Landscape Architecture from the University of Minnesota and a B.A. in Urban Studies from Stanford University, her cross-sector work combines facilitation, design thinking, community organizing, project management, data analysis, curation, planning and environmental design processes.

Carrie is a published author, an adjunct faculty at the University of Minnesota, a 2001 Fulbright Scholar, a 2010 Creative Community Leadership Institute Fellow, a 2019 Herberger Institute Practices for Change Fellow, and has consulted with communities across the country around strategic planning, creative community engagement, and resilient design.

Herocrats in Action: Marlon Williams

Imagine you’re in an interview for your dream job: making pies at a top-notch bakery. You are excited because you know you have what it takes to be the best pie-maker they have ever seen.

The interviewer starts by asking how many years of experience you have making pies. “I’ve been making pies my whole life,” you answer. “How many of that was paid?” she asks. “Well,” you say, “It was all volunteer, but I’ve had a job making cakes for the last 5 years.”

The interviewer furrows her brow and writes a “0” on her paper next to the question.

“What is your training?” she asks.

You explain that you have a master’s degree in bakery management.

“What about pie engineering?” she asks.

“Nope.”

Again, she writes a 0.

Finally, she asks why someone with your background would want to be a pie-maker.

You explain that you grew up in a pie community – making pies, eating pies, selling pies. You’ve seen the joy on someone’s face who is eating a great pie, and the disappointment when the pie looked better than it tasted. You tell her it’s your personal mission to spread as much joy as possible in your community by delivering the best pies imaginable.

The interviewer folds her hands and smiles.

“That’s wonderful,” she says. “But what we’re really looking for is someone with a masters in pie engineering, 5-plus years paid experience making pies, and a passion for using technology to most efficiently make pies. Thanks for your time.”

You leave feeling dejected and undervalued.

Then you go home and eat a pie and feel much better.

~             ~             ~

So, what does this silly story have to do with public service? If you’ve ever worked in government, you might already be making the connection. Like the bakery, public agencies have a lot to learn about what makes a great employee.

Just like the bakery missed an opportunity to hire this highly valuable pie-maker, government agencies overlook people with relevant lived experiences or professional training in related but different fields. They are often so focused on deep expertise within a silo that they don’t see how someone’s slightly different background could be even more valuable to the organization and the community.

Marlon Williams believes that if government is to succeed in its mission – to serve the people – this mindset needs to change. I recently sat down with Marlon to discuss what makes a great Herocrat. Among other things, he shared:

“What I've come to believe is that Herocrats are people who live at the intersection of things, right? I think there is a danger to specialization because when you become too specialized in the work you do, the cliché of when you're really good at hammering things, everything looks like a nail. And anything that doesn't look like a nail, you either pretend that it is, or you don't even see it.”

Marlon’s own resume checks all the right boxes: Masters in Public Administration from New York University and 10+ years climbing the ranks at the City of New York. And he has some unconventional Herocrat credentials: he’s a dancer and a veteran Burning Man attendee (aka “burner”).

Marlon contains multitudes.

He’s appropriately sober about the structural racism inherent in our systems, and also upbeat about efforts to change it. Regarding the promising but still-emerging trend of government agencies approaching racial equity from a healing perspective, he says “everything starts little.”  

He tells me that the best compliment he ever received in that he “speaks frameworks like poetry.” I can second that compliment. As we chatted I was struck by his eloquence in describing his observations of the problems and potential solutions. Even the interview transcript reads like a carefully crafted essay.

And he’s much more than a good talker. I’ve met many academics and foundation folks who mesmerize with words but ultimately lack the practical experience to make them useful. Not so with Marlon. He came to his wisdom the hard way: through his years of experience learning and growing as a Herocrat working in government.

One of his hard-earned lessons is that bringing one’s full self to work is the way to go. But that wasn’t his thinking when he first started:

“I kind of took the messaging that is largely out there for all public servants that when you show up for work, you put your humanity in a box and leave that in a locker and then you go into a system of which you're a cog and you process paperwork and you try to serve the public good mostly by trying to exclude the public from the services that you're charged with providing.”

For Marlon, who is African American, this meant leaving his racial identify and experiences at the office door. In meetings in which staff discussed neighborhood data, he would hold back from sharing his insights from living in the predominately African American neighborhood because he felt it would threaten his authority. His position felt tenuous, like his “ability to stay in those rooms was contingent on me making people comfortable with [him], making them forget the fact [he] was a black individual.”

This didn’t stop colleagues from asking him to be the spokesperson for all black people. In one particularly painful incident a colleague turned to him and asked “why are black men not getting married? Marlon, do you have any insight on this?” In this moment he was asked to represent the people they were trying to “fix or change,” which carried the implication that he didn’t belong in the room.

Over time Marlon began to integrate his identities of African American man, community member, and city employee, and today he proudly proclaims that at heart he’ll always be a “black bureaucrat.” As he began to bring his whole self to work, he grew into his power and became even more effective, at one point organizing a network of public and nonprofit changemakers who changed the system of workforce development in the city.

Today, through his job at a foundation, Marlon travels around the country to inspire Herocrats who are reforming their agencies to better serve the people, with a focus on advancing racial equity. He urges them to reconnect with their humanity to transform their institutions. He’s interviewed racial equity directors and other changemakers to understand what makes them extraordinary.

The common thread?

They work at the intersections of issues, not necessarily deep down in them. They have often lived and worked in many different of communities. Many of them have changed careers in their lives. They’ve learned the rules of a system and found ways of innovating within it.  

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In short, they’ve moved to the beat of more than one drummer. This allows them to make connections that others might miss.

Likewise, Marlon says the best parties are those in which highly skilled dancers from different genres come together and improvise to a new type of music. A similar dynamic happens in government when you bring together people from different disciplines, like finance and housing, then put them to work on a new question about medicine – effectively changing the tune and clearing the stage for new moves. When you’re used to rolling with questions about how a system can be more efficient, questions about how a system can enable longer life expectancy can use different muscles – with refreshing and surprisingly effective results.

Marlon finds that these kinds of cross-disciplinary conversations hold the most promise for rethinking our systems and better serving the people.

Here are some other ways Herocrats use their superpower of connection to move their work forward:

  • Herocrats focus less on the cult of specialization, and more on the cult of getting things done with the community.

  • Instead of giving employees plaques for their years of service, Herocrats give employee awards for the number of new partners they brought into the work.

  • Instead of making a program so complicated that nobody else can run it, Herocrats aim to make their programs so collaborative that any number of co-workers can support and grow it no matter who might be heading it up.

  • Herocrats evaluate themselves and each other on their ability to translate and adapt information, not to recite it.

  • Herocrats talk less and listen more, and they support their co-workers to do the same.

To be clear, Marlon’s message applies far beyond the actions of government employees.

It’s about how the public sector defines “expertise.”

It’s about what counts as data, and whose perspectives matter in making decisions about how and where to invest public money.

Reflecting on his own journey, Marlon says:

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“Why did I think that I had to minimize my voice as the only way to be on the agenda? And who do we allow to legitimize things, particularly for the government? Shouldn't it be the public and the entire public that legitimizes our actions, or legitimizes our strategy? But for too long only part of the public, generally white men, have been listened to and seen as having a legitimate voice. What I do in my work is to live closer to the shared value where everybody's voice matters in that conversation.”

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What’s a time in your life when a skill or experience from one part in your life made you more successful in another? What was it? How did you apply it? What happened?

How have you communicated the value of your background to someone who doesn’t initially see the connection? How would you handle the pie-maker interview?

How can government attract employees who have different types of expertise? How can it reward employees who are creative and make connections?

Please share your thoughts in the comments below!

 

Herocrats in Action: Alex Jackson Nelson

Imagine you’re in a meeting at work. It’s the weekly one with all the managers and supervisors. This meeting is a prime influencer and the play that your organization puts on to perform its culture. To an outsider it might seem like a boring government drama, with some tired comedy mixed in. But this meeting serves real purposes: it communicates the organization’s values, delineates the hierarchy, rewards those who have behaved according to the norms and ignores or possibly punishes those who haven’t.

You know what your task is in this meeting, and you’re nervous. Last time you had the same item on the agenda and it didn’t go so well. You had suggested a change to the way the organization does business, but it didn’t take hold. You got a few head nods but no culture change. After talking with your boss, you decided to go for it again this week.

As you sit in your seat, waiting for your item, you feel like you don’t quite belong. You’ve gotten the message that as a new employee, your voice doesn’t matter as much. You don’t look like the other people around the table. Or perhaps you look like them on the outside, but you feel a chasm between yourself and them in terms of your values.

After failing to move the group to action last time, how are you going to approach your item this week? How can you make them see how important it is to make your proposed change? What tactics can you use to persuade them?

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Maybe you’ve never been in this exact situation, but we’ve all had similar experiences. If you’ve worked in government, you’re familiar with performative, formal meetings. Most of us have been at organizations in which we feel we don’t fit the mold of the typical employee. And if you’re a Herocrat, you’ve been in lots of situations in which you’re advocating for a change that others don’t see the need for. Yet.

Alex Jackson Nelson is someone with a lot of experience with all these things. In fact, the above story is his own, and later on I will tell you about what he decided to do, and what transpired afterwards.

But first there are some things you need to know about Alex. He’s a trainer, supervisor, licensed therapist, American Sign Language interpreter, and longtime equity advocate. He’s most definitely a Herocrat.

When I met him for coffee at 7am a few weeks ago, his passion was powerful, his analysis was shrewd, and his stories were funny. He claims he’s not a morning person, so I can only imagine what he’s like when he’s at the top of his game.

His track record gives us some clues. In just three years at Minnesota’s Department of Human Services (DHS), he’s led nothing short of a cultural revolution in his corner of the sprawling agency of 7,500 workers. Alex is a training supervisor in the Child Safety and Permanency Division within Children and Family Services. Among other duties, the 20 people he oversees are responsible for training all new child protection workers across the state.

Prior to coming on as a state employee, Alex was a contractor to DHS, creating curricula and training employees on LGBTQ issues. After years of asking, his DHS contact finally convinced him to make the leap to full-time employee. As he put it, “it was time. I trusted my friend who said, ‘now is the time.’” And after years of working in nonprofits, the dental insurance also didn’t hurt.

As an employee, he was affected by the bureaucracy in ways he hadn’t been as a contractor, including having to wrestle slow, inefficient processes and outdated technology. But what really got him was the culture. As he describes it, “there’s something that occurs when you enter this building . . . All of the sudden you’re on a different planet.” Communication is uneven and sometimes nonexistent. One day he walked into the office to find out an entire team had been reassigned to him, even though he knew nothing about their work or the system they used. But he was up for the challenge!

And then there’s the hierarchy. While he understands how agency power structures work, he doesn’t buy into them too much. When it comes down to it, he’s not impressed by titles, he’s impressed by courageous leadership and action. And that is exactly what he has provided to his unit.

Alex’s Herocratic superpower is boldly being himself, which creates an environment in which others can do the same. Amid a stifling culture, he lets the full force of his personality shine. He keeps his eyes fresh, refusing to start seeing the negative aspects of the culture as “normal.” He stubbornly rejects mediocrity. He adapts to the system enough to get things done, while never compromising his values.

Among those values, his top priority is always people: the families that DHS serves and his own staff. He demonstrates this value to his staff by investing in relationships with them, understanding each person’s unique strengths and needs so that he can “meet them halfway.” As HR seemingly coaches supervisors to build cases for employee dismissal, Alex instead dives deeper into relationships to better understand the needs of his staff. He has learned that employee communication and learning styles are sometimes not understood or valued in the dominant culture. So together he and his supervisees make minor adjustments to their team practices, including how they structure meetings, which has had a positive impact on several employees.

Flying in the face of Minnesota Nice, his unit has instituted “radical candor”. This practice, which requires the foundation of strong relationships, has helped staff members to grow individually and as a team. He and his boss have created a more collaborative decision-making process. Staff are able to have autonomy in flexing time to promote work/life balance and they are trusted, and held accountable, to getting their work done.

A trainer and therapist at heart, Alex not only coaches his staff on how to deal with difficult situations, but he also role plays with them. Through this practice, they are fully rehearsed and ready to bring authenticity to those performative meetings.

And perhaps most revolutionary of all, Alex and his team have fun. They’ve infused a unicorn theme throughout their work, culminating recently in “Camp Unicorn,” a retreat in which they successfully revised a nine-day training curriculum as a team. About this experience, Alex said, “It was amazing. I can't even believe it. We did it. We met our goal, and everyone was together for five days in one giant room, working in small groups. And we had camp activities. It was so much fun!"

The culture change within his unit has taken a lot of hard work and will require diligence to maintain. But it is taking root and paying off. Staff morale and productivity are up. People like their jobs and each other. The folks who didn’t like this leadership style have left for other units or organizations. And everyone else is helping to build a new culture of openness, candor and true partnership, fostered by Alex’s Herocratic leadership.

More than that, they are creating a ripple effect. Given their role in training child protection workers across the state, one can imagine how the team’s openness and positivity will radiate out to the families that DHS serves.

The next frontier for Alex? The rest of DHS, of course! As he knows, it’s one thing to change the culture of the team you lead, and it’s quite another to affect the broader organizational culture that it operates within.

One tactic to spur a more open, inclusive culture in DHS has already begun to emerge. To a veteran social justice activist like Alex, it’s almost embarrassingly basic: institutionalizing the practice of sharing one’s pronouns during the introduction round at meetings when new people are present. This is something that has been commonplace in many professional settings for years. But not at DHS.

As straightforward as it might seem, it took a lot of courage on Alex’s part to get it started. Here’s where the opening story about the stuffy meeting comes in.

Alex first proposed the practice at one of the division’s weekly manager and supervisor meetings. He was nervous, and despite his best efforts at explaining it, the practice did not take hold. The next meeting, nothing had changed – people did not share their pronouns with the meeting’s visitors.

It wasn’t until Alex brought the item back another time, and changed his approach, that the practice started to take hold. This time Alex told his own story of being a transgender man, explaining why the practice of sharing one’s pronouns is important to him personally. Although he was already very much “out” at work, it was still uncomfortable for him to talk about this personal topic at that large, formal meeting, in which typically no one shares anything personal. But Alex said that’s what it took: “I was really being vulnerable and talking about what inspires me, and that inspired other people.”

Alex flexed his Herocratic superpower – boldly being himself – to make the change. It worked, and now because of it, he’s helped to create an environment where more people can be themselves.

Introducing one’s pronouns has taken off in his division. People are doing it without any prompting. Some employees have taken it on as a personal mission. One woman hung up a poster about it in her cubicle. It’s becoming a norm.

A recent community meeting was a hopeful example. When the round of introductions reached a community member who is a Native American woman, she paused, noting that she had not introduced herself with her pronouns before. And then, building on the exercise, she also shared her Ojibwe name and said “good morning” in Ojibwe, as she does in her community. It is these spontaneous, intersectional moments that makes Alex excited. As he says, “It's not about the pronouns. It's about bringing what you do in your community, and who you really are, to the table.”

Despite all this, Alex is uncomfortable talking about “the pronoun thing” as a success. To him, it seems wrong that it’s revolutionary. The distance between where DHS culture is and where it needs to be is crushing. And he doesn’t want people to think it’s enough to say their pronouns and carry on with business-as-usual.

At the same time, he recognizes that pronouns are serving as a gateway for change. Introducing one’s pronouns is a conspicuous sign that employees are using to say, “I’m open to learning and I’m open to change.” Other employees and community members see that signal and it changes the conversation. It is creating space and energy to have larger conversations about equity at DHS. As co-chair of the division’s new equity committee, Alex has plenty of ideas for future issues to take on.

Watch out world, because unicorns and pronouns are just the beginning. 

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I’d love to hear from you about your experiences leading or taking part in organizational culture change!

What does Alex’s story bring up for you?

When have you chosen to boldly be yourself? Or have you witnessed a co-worker who does this?

How did it enable others to do the same?

Have you ever used the tactic of sharing why something is important to you personally as you made the case for it? How did it feel? What were the results?

Please share your thoughts in the comments below.