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 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.

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.

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!

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.

Guest Blog: Connection & Courage as a Female Local Government Leader

By Meredith Reynolds

I have found that many local government employees began their journey either by happenstance or through a related field, rarely with the intention to work in local government. But I have always wanted to do this work; this was no accident. You see, I grew up in a local government household where community service was my family’s business. My dad was a City Manager and my mom worked in public health; this environment fostered a desire to help others and informed my perspective of local government.

“No other level of government affects one’s daily life more than local government

and no other level of government can be more directly impacted by the community.”

Photo of the author brushing up on current events

This connection between those that serve and their community is a critical dynamic and a key part of every Herocrat’s work - using superpowers of courage, connection, and creativity to build a world in which every person can live their best life. The importance of this connection was instilled in me early, as my dad modeled that staff and community relationships were important to one’s ability to get community priorities accomplished and to get the organization to follow your lead. Curating this connection has also been a foundational component of my career. 

“We have to participate relentlessly in the manifestation of our relationships.”

 I consider myself a ‘big tent’ thinker, who sees the value of bringing people together. No one can do anything alone and we are better when we work together. This philosophy aligns well with local government, which functions most effectively with participatory processes and collaborative employees. Across the different roles I’ve had in my organization, many of them include convening colleagues and I have built a diverse network who support, show up, and go out of their way to help each other. I call this my ‘coalition of the willing.’  Together, our work has made our City more livable and more beautiful, has contributed to new open space and food resiliency, and has created a framework for a more just community. One of the unique things about my coalition is many of them happen to be women – strong, educated, emotionally intelligent, delightful women. 

• They identify and harness employee potential, create opportunity, and celebrate the accomplishments of others. 

• They find connections and build upon ideas, elevating joint concepts and making ideas better.

• They are present, honest, and purposeful and they  listen and empathize as important issues are fiercely discussed.

• They challenge perspectives and can respectfully debate without judgment or hurt feelings because they don’t have to compete to be right.

• They are strong and focused while still being sassy, witty and enjoyable. 

They reach down and bring people up the ladder with them and

they show others how to assemble the next ladder. 

In my career, helping my coalition up the ladder has manifested most prominently in salary negotiations. It is important for women to rally around the issue of pay equity in local government. Data continues to show women are paid less money for the same work, and in the U.S. today, women who work full time make 80 cents, on average, for every dollar that white men make. And to no surprise, this wage gap is larger for women of color. The wage gap has long-term compounding economic impacts over the life of a career: a typical woman who worked full time and year-round would lose out on roughly a half-million dollars over her lifetime, compared to her male counterpart. 

As women in local government, we change these outcomes by fostering connections

 with women colleagues, sharing information and celebrating great work.

In every case where I have helped fellow women negotiate salary and professional development benefits, I was able to share information that they were either not aware of or did not have access to. I am generally curious and am willing to ask what employment terms others have negotiated. I also don’t subscribe to the old adage that discussing money is taboo. Sharing this information is what makes women powerful, particularly at the bargaining table. 

As women in local government, I encourage women to use their connections to learn about the process others went through to get their positions (hiring process, types of interview questions, preparation techniques) and I encourage women to discuss the outcomes of their negotiations (salary, benefits, professional development, title). I also encourage women to understand where salary and benefit information lives in City budgets and transparency websites. I also encourage women to be courageous, speak up and advocate for pay equity for employees, and engage in organizational work that implements meaningful steps toward equal pay for women and employees of color who face similar structural barriers:

• Discontinue policies or practices that base a job offer on one’s previous salary. 

• Publish employee salaries, benefits, and performance payments, including local government management positions that for many years have been “confidential”.

• Offer free negotiation training classes to City employees and require unconscious/implicit bias training and standard methods of negotiation to protect against cultural biases and stereotypes of masculinity and whiteness.

• Intentionally advance women’s participation in career development programs to counteract that fact that men are more likely than women to ask (and be permitted) to attend professional development training or work in departments with healthier training budgets. 

• Offer paid leave to be more flexible and accommodating to new parents and change the cultural narrative that the responsibility of parenting is mostly with mothers.

• Formally partner with affinity groups that support your organization’s women, and regularly and publicly celebrate unsung women heroes and essential workers.

We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.

I am a huge music fan and love the song ‘What If’ by India Arie. The powerful lyrics praise civil rights pioneers who stood up to injustice and paved the way for communities of color. The song’s bridge boldly suggests “We are the ones we’ve been waiting for, we can change the world.” 

We ARE the ones - we as local government professionals possess the courage to lead, can harness the power of creativity, and can foster authentic connection to engage in meaningful work with and for our communities. Herocrats, it takes us to change us so let’s put our superpowers to good use.

~ ~ ~

Meredith Reynolds serves as the Special Deputy City Manager for Recovery for the City of Long Beach.

Meredith brings 15 years of experience in community and staff engagement, user-centered design, relationship building and partnerships, strategic planning, grant writing and budgeting, land use planning, and project management in the fields of community services, parks and recreation, sustainability, and public sector management in some of California's most diverse, well run and award-winning cities. Meredith has a master’s degree in Public Policy and Management from Carnegie Mellon University and a bachelor’s degree in Public Administration with a minor in Organizational Communication from California State University, Chico, is an alumni of the Coro Fellowship Program in Public Affairs, and is a member of the City’s racial equity cohort, with training from the Government Alliance on Race & Equity. 

Guest Blog: What is the impact of a decade?

By Rachel Dungca

A decade ago, I presented at work, finished my last class of graduate school at 10 p.m., and a few hours later, gave birth to my daughter. I didn’t know it at the time, but it was also International Women’s Day. Ten years later, I greeted my daughter with “Happy Birthday! Happy International Women’s Day!” We spent the day talking about how lucky I am to be her mom and how happy I am to see her grow up in a time that feels different than when she was born.

The decade brought more visibility for me and people like me in my workplace, industry, and culture. Lately I’ve been reflecting on questions like:

What changed?

How did we change?

Are we changing fast enough?

How will our girls tell their stories when they enter the workforce in decade(s) from now?

A decade ago, I pursued a graduate degree with two babies and some of my most vivid memories are of taking pumping breaks in public restrooms and sheepishly asking for a modified work and school schedule.

Today, my male colleagues announce their paternity leave. I feel the decade-old guilt leave my body. I hope my colleagues have time to recover and connect with their newest family member without snark from peers or delayed promotions from bosses.

A decade ago, I experienced discrimination and harassment. I asked for help and my boss told me that my feelings and perceptions mattered. They didn’t encourage me to file a complaint or acknowledge they’d heard these types of complaints before, but I felt good because I think they believed me.  

Today, I don’t use the words ‘sexual harassment’ when describing my experiences; it jumps to discussions about a system that defends intent and ambiguous language without acknowledging context or the long-term consequences of these conversations. I gather my courage and report experiences on behalf of others and myself; it is the very first time in my career that I can write things down and know it is stored in a database. I feel empowered knowing my simple act may prevent the next person from being dismissed with an eerily familiar story or eliminate the excuse of ‘no one told us why’ women are persistently undervalued, and men are overrepresented.

Photo by Arièle Bonte on Unsplash

A decade ago, my appearance was regularly noted and my gender was considered when my coworkers were searching for a place for frustration to land softly; their words took oxygen that should have been used for recognizing or constructively criticizing my work. I heard from men and women: “I bet your mom is hot!”; “I couldn’t believe how a little person like you could get so big! Did you gain 80 pounds?!?”; “You are a hemorrhoid and your work is going to cause me a heart attack.”; “The vendor called me and told me you were a bitch for not recommending a contract renewal and documenting their ineffectiveness.” I felt awkward, embarrassed, and unsure on how to respond because I knew that accommodating the other person’s insecurity and sexism were more important than my professional reputation, or ability to contribute to a better transit agency. I didn’t yet understand that my work didn’t stand alone; my face, body and gender were always next to it.

Today, my reputation is built with my voice and my work; the quiet, attractive face has been replaced by a passionate and experienced voice. I say aloud in response or in anticipation of being underestimated or ignored: “Yes, I manage direct reports that code every day, just like Joe.”; “This behavior is unprofessional and is damaging our ability to work together in the future; let’s talk.“; “Of course I am emotional when discussing systems that result in our coworkers and community being undervalued, underrepresented or harmed.” I am angry and frustrated, but I won’t break my composure or resolve in rooms full of faces that communicate confusion or ignorance. I spend time questioning my approach, tone, and actions that may threaten my ability to share my team’s work and contribute to a mission I love.

Photo by Steve Johnson on Unsplash

A decade ago, I was complimented by my ability to lead in the organization without flirting to gain favor or hiding my role as a mom. I didn’t intentionally seek out friendships at work with women or people of color. I worried that I wasn't as fun as the flirtatious coworker nor as committed as women without kids.

Today, I receive my first formal internal recognition hosted by an employee resource group focused on advancing women which I had cofounded years earlier. Organizational leaders don’t appear aware of the irony that they clap for exceptional employees that represent many ‘firsts’ or ‘only ones’, while dodging responsibility when asked what they will do to improve retention rates and a workforce where fewer than one in four are women. I wonder how many times these leaders were the ‘first’ or ‘only one’ to advocate for the women they now applaud in quiet conversations about succession planning or pay equity. Women at work are often responsible for being excellent, recognizing excellence and providing a support network to help shore up declining retention while remaining satisfied to be unusual sightings in the halls of management and official recognition programs.

Photo by Giorgio Trovato on Unsplash

A decade ago, I wondered how much wealth - incomes, position count, budget control - was held by women in my workplace. I never asked and I wasn’t sure it mattered for my success.

Today, I’m an expert in an industry that, at its best, provides mobility and access to opportunity. I wonder how much worth is provided and held by women and people of color without the corresponding wealth in my workplace and in our communities. I keep asking because it most definitely matters for all of us.

A decade from now, our courage to act quickly and boldly in response to our shortcomings and failures will be noted. My multi-ethnic, multi-talented daughter will be telling that story.

Rachel Dungca is a Herocrat, a mom, and a manager working in public transit.

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.

 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.

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.

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.

Are your colleagues resisting community engagement? Try these constructive comebacks.

Photo by Christina @ wocintechchat.com on Unsplash

Herocrats know that better community engagement is an essential strategy to advancing equity. Yet, when they try to do it, fear-based excuses start to show up. When that happens, Herocrats need an affirming way to engage these concerns.

Check out our 1-page guide for 14 phrases that can help you do that.

What can we learn from 200 letter-writing government employees?

Tony Webster / CC BY-SA

There is an ugly tendency among some public servants to give up their power. This segment of government employees chooses to focus on constraints instead of opportunities. They speak about the limits of their positions and agencies, rather than flexing their levers of influence to advance equity in the communities they serve.

I call these folks “If Onlys” because they have many excuses for playing it safe.

“If only I were a manager.”

“If only I had more direct reports.”

“If only our elected officials understood the issue.”

“If only [other government agency] would cooperate.”  

If Onlys subscribe to the myth that they are powerless to improve the systems they operate.

This myth is not intrinsic among government workers; it is taught. How many bright-eyed, ambitious young people have entered public service, just to be knocked down by seasoned employees who see it as their job to educate them about why nothing can be done?  While this sentiment may be veiled as pragmatism, it is ultimately a self-fulfilling prophecy.

If you think you are powerless, you will be.

It is also a cop-out designed to absolve oneself of the responsibility to change the inequitable systems in which they work -- and from which they collect their paycheck.  

While If Onlys are responsible for their actions, they are also a product of the system. Organizations’ incentive structures reinforce their behavior, thereby helping to maintain the status quo. Awards and promotions tend to go to people for longevity, not for rocking the boat.

Fortunately, only a subset of government employees are If Onlys, and it’s a condition that can change with insight, support and policy. Anyone who has worked in the public sector knows there are people on all levels who do what they can --within their existing power-- to improve the ways their organization does business. I call these people Herocrats, and I believe they are an essential component to creating more just and equitable communities.

Lorie Shaull from St Paul, United States / CC BY-SA

A recent example: after Minneapolis Police murdered George Floyd, Metro Transit bus operators took a stand. Their union, the Amalgamated Transit Union (ATU), issued a statement demanding justice for George Floyd and an assertion of the rights of its members to refuse to transport demonstrators who have been arrested, calling it a “misuse of public transit.”

Last week, some of these same bus operators joined with hundreds of their fellow employees on a letter to Metropolitan Council leadership calling for accountability around racial justice and recommending a list of actions “toward healing and rebuilding of our region.” The letter’s ideas are expansive, ranging from centering BIPOC voices in decision-making, to vast changes in the Metro Transit Police Department, to more effective operations during civil unrest.

None of these ideas will be new to Metropolitan Council leadership – community members have been pushing for many of them for years. But this is the first time that employees have supported the changes so publicly. It is this kind of solidarity between community members and Herocrats working “on the inside” that will change entrenched systems to better serve everyone.

Looking back over recent years, connections between community and internal changemakers are what drove system change. As the Metropolitan Council staff letter points out, “our more significant changes [towards equity] came from uncomfortable and critical public comment.” It then cites the example of Better Bus Stops, a grant-funded program that engaged thousands of community members to transform the system of bus shelters. Not only did this partnership result in hundreds of new heated, lighted bus shelters in low-income neighborhoods, but it also changed the inequitable criteria for determining bus shelter placement.

Metro Transit

To make systemic change, Herocrats need active community involvement, and vice versa. Even with a solid inside-outside game, the work is difficult and uncomfortable. With no meaningful connection with the people being served, it is virtually impossible. As the Metropolitan Council staff letter points out, “we’ve engaged in [internal reviews and introspection] before with no meaningful or longstanding results.” Lacking outside accountability, ideas, energy, and resources, these initiatives just faded away.

The Metropolitan Council employees who wrote and signed the letter learned from these experiences and crafted their approach accordingly.

We, too, can learn from the moves they have made. There is so much work to do to make our systems more equitable, and every public servant has a role to play. Of course, not every situation calls for a public letter like this or a community partnership like Better Bus Stops. So, here are some broader lessons changemakers can take from this example:

• Recognize your existing power. The writers and signatories of this letter do not have the most “positional power” in the organization, as defined by their locations on the organizational chart, the size of their budgets, or the number of direct reports. But they recognized they had other types of power, including “information power” about the organization’s policies and practices and “relational power” through a network of trusting relationships.

• Summon the courage to act. Knowing their power, these employees made the decision to act. It took courage to write and sign this letter. But courage is also relative, depending on where one sits. A white person who no longer works at the organization, like me, had little to risk in signing this letter. On the other hand, a Metro Transit police officer or employee within operations risks much more by aligning with this effort. Despite that, employees from across the organization stepped up and signed on.

• Connect with others. The letter writers knew they needed to make a statement, but initially did not know exactly what it should say. What they did know was how to figure it out: by connecting with a variety of people inside and outside the organization. They launched a massive organizing effort to set a strategy, develop the letter content, and collect signatures. One organizer, alone, had phone conversations with 15 people to surface ideas. They also did their research, identifying other transit agencies that have made similar changes already.

• Find creative solutions. From the beginning, our government systems have been cleverly designed to systematically benefit a segment of the population, particularly land-owning white males. Therefore, it will take just as much (or more) creativity to remake them. In this case, the letter writers knew they needed to identify solutions that could be embedded in policy and programs, outlasting individual leaders and staff members. To this end, the actions are measurable and geared to increased public accountability.

While none of us can make a public servant recognize or use their existing power, we can work to recognize and act on our own opportunities. What is one thing you can do this week? Here’s an idea: attend the Metropolitan Council’s Committee of the Whole meeting on Wednesday, July 1 and share your ideas for creating a more racially-equitable region.  

Metropolitan Council