Ronda Rousey is the first American woman to win an Olympic medal in judo. Thanks to the efforts of people like Rusty Kanogoki (see previous blog on Rusty), women’s judo became a demonstration sport at the 1988 Olympics in Seoul, South Korea, and a medal sport at the 1992 Olympics held in Barcelona, Spain. Rousey earned her medal a day ago in Beijing, China. Congratulations!
Today the New York Times profiled Ronda Rousey in their story, ” A Journey Out of Pain, Through Judo” (www.nytimes.com). Glancing at the front page of the Sports section to get a more in-depth look at those leading in the competition in Beijing, I was most interested in the Rousey article.
I know a leader who fought to get women’s judo an official Olympic sport. A responsible woman who, knowing how judo made such a positive difference in her life, wanted to make that opportunity available for women on a global scale.
“Girl Gang Leader Breaks Olympics Judo Ceiling,” read the headline I wrote to capture the many facets of the life of Rusty Kanokogi (Shattered Magazine, June 2007 available at www.ltr-nyc.com/LeaderResources.html). “I had a very dysfunctional childhood growing up in Coney Island, Brooklyn, in the 1950’s,” offered the daughter of Russian Jewish parents. “An aggressive girl with no outlets,” she organized and led a girl gang until an aunt suggested another option: judo.
Kanokogi was drawn to judo because it was an outlet for her energy. Her studies took her to Japan and she began teaching judo to men and boys when she returned. There were few girls taking judo. Kanokogi told me, “Women’s judo was just developing and although there were some countries like France, Great Britain, Switzerland, and West Germany that held competitions for women, the US wasn’t considered part of the judo world. I thought it should be.”
She made it her mission to see that women could compete equally. A mission that took her all the way to the Olympics. Although men’s judo had been an Olymic sport since 1964, women were not allowed to compete in judo. During the 1984 Olympics in Los Angeles, California, Kanokogi led the team presenting the case for women’s judo to be included. The response of the International Olympic Committee (IOC) wasn’t encouraging. The IOC declared, “It’s not good for women to participate in contact sports.”
Kanokogi and her colleagues brought a lawsuit against the IOC. The case never got to court, she said, because, “We could prove that we were being discriminated against.” When the 1988 Olympic Games were held in Seoul, South Korea, women’s judo was included as a demonstration sport. By 1992, women’s judo became a medal sport.
At the time of our interview, Kanogoki was a seventh-degree black belt in judo, the highest ranked American woman and one of only three or four women to achieve this ranking in the world at the time of our interview. That could have changed by now. What hasn’t changed is the determined woman’s belief that what she got from judo was more precious than any medal.
“Judo saved my life. It put me on the right road. It gave me structure when I needed it. Also a husband (she met during one of her trips to Japan). Great kids. And grandchildren,” she said.
She also gave Ronda Rousey the opportunity to go for the gold in judo today in Beijing. I wish her well.
How do you lead people to change their behavior? To see the possibilities of moving in a new direction?
I don’t have all the answers. I have a good example what happened when I went in a new direction.
My back ‘went out’ and my doctor sent me to physical therapy. Included in my routine was walking backwards on a treadmill. Try it. It’s not that easy. Walking backwards requires balance — especially when you do it ‘hands free’ by not holding on to the side bars, swing your arms back and forth, and increase your walking speed. After ten or so physical therapy sessions, I continued the routine of walking backwards on one of the many treadmills at my health club.
“Do you know you’re walking in the wrong direction?” was just one of the many comments I heard from trainers, strangers, and friends. No one else ever walked backwards on the treadmill. I was the exception. An odd person. Going against the norm, standing out, being different, introducing a change in how equipment could be used.
Nevertheless, I kept up my routine. There were enough positives — walking backwards was easier on my knees and helped to strengthened my back — that I had to risk being the one people noticed. I could still watch the TV up on a wall, easily talk to friends who were lunging by carrying heavy weights, or pedaling stationary bicycles.
There is one caution I have for you if — or when — you try walking backwards: stay focused on what you are doing. On more than one occasion I got carried away and almost walked off the treadmill!
Over a period of a few months, I starting noticing small changes at my health club. A trainer had his new client get on the treadmill and walk backwards. I saw someone else try it out cautiously on her own. Recently a woman came up to me and said, “I’m curious, why do walk backwards on the treadmill?” I told her. She said, “I have a really bad back….” I saw her trying to walk backwards a few days later.
How do you lead in a new direction? Do you risk being different? To stand out by taking a risk to enact a positive change? Sharing that information with others? Being a leader who introduces an innovative use of existing resources?
If not, I encourage you to try it. The rewards aren’t just for you.
‘Tis the season to remember what was once the heart of the baseball world here in New York City. No, not the Yankees. The
I was close to making my first call to WFAN to say that, “Your loss was my gain.” I was a Dodgers fan at a young age. A Los Angeles Dodgers fan. My father made me and my sisters into loyal followers of the team. I’m glad for it. The team built relationships and started conversations within my family and also with neighbors in my changing neighborhood near Watts – conversations that happened before and continued after the riots of 1965.
Pop and Mom had five boys then produced four girls – of which I’m the youngest. The boys all played sports of one kind or another. The girls a little – but we made up for that by watching not just baseball in person plus football and basketball games on TV with Pop. It wasn’t just that Pop wanted to go to the games and needed company. That was part of it. It was also, though, part of our training in life to go with him. There was something about his observations of the players and the strategy of walking someone intentionally that has stuck with me. Watching my sister Lou fill-in the scorecard then doing it myself to record the statistics of achievement. Cheering when the bugle sounded whether the Dodgers were winning or losing; we did it because they were the home team.
As a leader, I’ve grown to appreciate the lessons I got from attending games with Pop, grateful that he didn’t write us off as just girls who wouldn’t be interested. There was another thing about sports that was important. It gave us a reason to go out and do something with Pop, to relate to him in new ways. Also, the girls used baseball as an excuse to travel. The four girls packed our Dodger blue sweaters and grey skirts then drove up to San Francisco to cheer our home team on in front of the other New York deserters – the Giants.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007, marks the second anniversary of when Hurricane Katrina made landfall in New Orleans. Print, TV, radio, and Internet news sources are running stories of the ordeal, the aftermath, 
and the future of the area.
I’ve heard people here in NYC say that they are tired of hearing about Katrina, don’t want to donate or be approached to give money, and desire to move on to other things. Katrina fatigue has set in.
Hearing first hand the ongoing sagas of people fighting for their rights, their land, their livelihoods, their lives, I’m still energized to do my part to help rebuild New Orleans, Louisiana (NOLA).
I never lived in NOLA, have no relatives there, had wanted to but never visited, and really felt no affinity for the location before two years ago today. It was watching the tragedy unfold for hours on CNN that made me change my mind. I knew watching that I wanted to help. I knew that I wanted to make a difference. I knew that I wasn’t certain how to make that happen.
It wasn’t until almost nine months later that I found a perfect fit for my organizational development and coaching skills.
In April 2006, I read in an email that Community Church Unitarian Universalist-New Orleans was seeking help with internal organization before taking the steps of rebuilding. A smart move. One that I could help them make.
My work was focused during two long weekends — one in June and one in December — during which I presented customized workshops for leaders and the entire congregation. To reinforce and support their processes, I act as a coach and consultant for leaders via telephone and email.
I’ve heard stories from individuals, saw the devastation, gained an understanding of their problems. I also went to the New Orleans Art Museum and sculptor garden that somehow survived Katrina almost unscathed. I went to a New Orleans Saints football game in the refurbished SuperDome and cheered for the home team (my niece Tomi Sue was with me and she was rooting for the 49er’s who lost that day). I ate alligator quiche and listened to jazz in the French Quarter.
It’s been two years since Hurricane Katrina devastated the region, took close to 2,000 lives, and left permanent scars on the psyche of the survivors. The reality of NOLA’s future sets in hearing how long it is taking for the rebuilding to happen. It becomes easy to think, “Is the system too challenged to meet the needs of the residents? Will an entirely ‘new’ New Orleans emerge with a different profile of residents? What is the real price the residents of NOLA will pay for Katrina?”
Monday, August 27, my spirits were lifted when out of the blue I received an email from another volunteer, Claire Houston, a photographer who had been to NOLA to take pictures like the one at the top of the devastation. Last weekend she had been at Community Church’s website and read that I was mentioned as being part of their rebuilding/healing process. She wrote to me, “I wanted to thank you again for making the trip and offering your communication skills to help the congregation focus and prioritize their next steps.”
There is agreement in NOLA that the churches will help bring back NOLA. My hope and energy will continue to go into helping the residents in NOLA fight their Katrina fatigue, stay connected with concerned outsiders like me to do something, and work to rebuild a city of strength.
Claire’s email has reaffirmed my commitment and energized me in the process.
How will you fight your Katrina fatigue?
I don’t know how. I attribute that to the fact that I was only 5 when I became an aunt for the first time. The youngest of nine, I grew up with my eleven nieces and nephews in a relationship more like a cousin.
Through the years, I’ve tried to be a good aunt — even a great aunt now that my nieces and nephews are having children of their own. We’ve kept in touch, been estranged, then gathered back together for weddings, births, funerals. Recently, I’ve gotten into the habit of sending cards to all my family members for Valentine’s Day, Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. Often, I wouldn’t hear back but that wasn’t why I sent the cards. I was reaching out to say, “I love you.”
In 2006, I took on the leadership of planning a family reunion. Six of my nieces and nephews showed up with their families for a wonderful evening of sharing and a day of joyous fun at Disneyland.
This year, I decided I’d add in a summer ‘touch’ to fill out my calendar of family cards. It was on my mind and even my to-do-list but got easily pushed aside for business and the renovation, renovation, renovation of my home.
On June 30, I got a surprise when I opened an envelope that I could see was from my nephew John. The cover of the folded card was a summer theme with an image of a lighthouse and seagulls flying around it. Inside the card was his message printed in large block printed capital letters JUST SENDING SOME SUMMER GREETINGS YOUR WAY with John written in script.
The last time I got a piece of correspondence from John, 47 and living in Crescent City, California, was a Christmas card about ten years ago. It made me happy to receive his card and I wanted to send him – and my other family members – a card as well.
On Monday, July 30, I finally decided on green note paper with a blue trim and matching envelopes. I found my Henderson family list printed out from Outlook and put my navy roller ball pen next to the stack of cards sitting on a box of photo paper on which I would print pictures of my renovated home.
Tuesday afternoon on July 31, I got a call from one of John’s sisters that he had passed away. Calling other relatives to tell them of John’s death, each one I spoke with said, “But I just received a card from him.”
I’m putting my supplies back in a drawer. John’s summer card has said it all.
My leadership lessons from this are many. What’s more important is that I realize the importance of continuing my education on how to aunt.
According to the Urban Dictionary, the term my last good nerve means, “The final point of remaining calm.”
Working as a leader you no doubt have found your own last good nerve on a few occasions. If you’ve not experienced your last good nerve, I have a suggestion for you: undertake a renovation of your home and find out that the work estimated to be done in three months is now dragging out to five months.
The term last good nerve came to me to describe my feelings when having to speak with my contractor about the status of projects and my move in date. I thought “My Last Good Nerve” was the title of Ruby Dee’s one-woman show I saw in 1998 at Hunter College. Ms. Dee, wife of the late Ossie Davis, named her show, My One Good Nerve, the same as her book of that title.
By Friday of last week, my one and last good nerve was stretched to the point of disintegration! I felt depleted of patience, creativity, and energy (and of course money but that’s a different entry). The master bathroom alone was just cause. The radiator looked ugly, too big and not at all in the style of my glass tiled walls. The gorgeous glass wall tiles cracked on one wall and another wall caught the infection when the shower curtain rod holder was installed. The contractor cut a “U” in the second drawer of the vanity so it could fit around pipe; when I opened the drawer, it was obvious anything put in there would fall out.
My one and last good nerve gave way when I heard that it would be two more weeks until I could move in — necessitating what would be my fifth move during this process. What a way to end a week!
Saturday morning as scheduled, however, I met a close friend, her husband, and six year old twins for a tour of the apartment that they hadn’t seen since the reno started. “Oh, Leigh, this is beautiful.” “Wow, this is great!” The children’s eyes were wide with the transformation.
My close friend loved the radiator, thought it fit perfectly. Her husband admired the glass tiles and said, “Cracks can be fixed.” “Leigh, this vanity is the best part of the bathroom. I love it,” my friend said touching the drawers and admiring the color in between.
What did I learn from this timely visit? Obviously, the radiator can be boxed in, the glass tiles replaced, the “U” in the vanity finished. My leadership lesson, however, was that fresh eyes can bring new perspectives to issues.
Plus, I know now that I will have a place to stay thanks to another good friend and that in two weeks my one good nerve can relax as I settle into my new home.
The Pilates Method of physical exercise agrees with me. I started attending Pilates classes in 2003 and have continued to take two or three or more classes a week because I’ve experienced better posture, fewer knee problems, and stronger abdominals.
The key in Pilates is moving from your core – that group of abdominal muscles that hold you up and help everything else work efficiency. I’ve enjoyed moving from my core so much that last year I decided that teaching Pilates was a good occupation for when I retire (which is still a long way away!) and I started taking one-on-one classes that would lead to certification in the future.
In essence, I thought creatively, came up with a plan, and executed that with the help of others.
Our long-time Pilates instructor on Tuesday morning at 7:00 a.m. left in the winter and by late June there was still no permanent replacement for her. The fitness director found someone to fill the slot but that instructor wouldn’t be able to begin until September. The director was considering cancelling the class for the summer.
An idea came into my head – based on a previous experience. A couple of weeks earlier, a Sunday morning Pilates instructor didn’t show up on time for her 9:00 a.m. class. Wendy and I co-led the class until the instructor arrived. Wendy and I got good feedback from our peers – and encouragement that we should teach sometime.
A short while later when the director suggested she might “cancel” the Tuesday morning class, I went into action. I wrote a note to the director and asked her if she would consider a Peer Pilates class for the 7:00 slot. The director of course had to consider the implications and ran the idea by her colleagues at the gym. They all liked that I thought outside the box and that we could truly put ‘community’ in the JCC fitness schedule.
The lesson from all this: if you love something and want to see it remain, put some energy into making that happen.
“Are you a teacher?” a woman who was sitting on the sidewalk hollered at me.
I wanted to be a teacher since I was seven. Today I do what a teacher does: translate and impart knowledge for leaders to learn and apply to their own careers.
2. Perception is the co-pilot for reality. You can train people to think about you in a certain way. Think of three adjectives you want others to use about you when you are not in the room. Start using those adjectives about yourself. In another month or so, you’ll hear others use those adjectives when talking about you.
3. Find a mentor and a sponsor. A mentor is someone who will give you the good, the bad, and the ugly. A sponsor is a passionate advocate who “carries your papers for you” – they are the ones who fight for you when you are not in the room such as at a performance review.
4. Be willing to take risks. Be willing to take risks. Be willing to take risks. Remember: FEAR is False Evidence of things Appearing Real.
5. Balance. Balance. Balance. What’s fueling your professional platform? Keep that on you calendar and also make time to give back to others.
“You’re a woman. Someone hits my sister, I’m going to f*(# him up.”
That’s why I started a blog. Working to Be a Leader is my informal chronicle of observations, thoughts, and advice on how to level the leadership playing field. I get to share information here in a more casual format than my newsletter Dear Leader or on my website www.ltr-nyc.com.