Kelli King-Jackson, Certified Professional Coach

Coaching for Black women leading in white spaces.

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Perfect Harmony

Ebony and ivory live together in perfect harmony 
Side by side on my piano keyboard, oh Lord, why don’t we?
We all know that people are the same wherever you go 
There is good and bad in ev’ryone
We learn to live, when we learn to give 
Each other what we need to survive, together alive.
(Ebony & Ivory by Paul McCartney and Stevie Wonder)

On November 22nd, my family and I will celebrate our 15 year anniversary this November (actually we are celebrating all year :).  That was the day our family blended together.  For me, our wedding date also marks the anniversary of me learning to live in harmony with my grown woman life.

Instead of a grand wedding, I asked, and my husband bought us a home that we closed on a few weeks after we said our vows.  That house was a pit!  I say that with all the love and wisdom that comes with maturity.  We bought a small home that has only been lived in by one family…for forty years.  Nobody told us people who aren’t handy shouldn’t buy forty-year-old-homes.  For the first few months, we slept in our son’s electric blue room while he and our daughter slept in her Pepto Bismol pink one across the hall.  We quickly began “renovations” that led to us sleeping on the floor of our converted garage for six months.   

Eventually, the pit had a built-in office and a master suite.  There was a paved basketball court in the backyard along with a gazebo and fancy outdoor furniture.  We homeschooled in that house.  Had emotional meltdowns in that house.  We dreamed dreams in that house. Made plans in that house. Celebrated accomplishments in that house.  And ultimately built the foundation that we needed to get us to where we are today.  

The road since that house has been a wild ride.  We have built two new homes.  We have survived serious health issues. Our children are off living their own lives.  We now have two (and one on the way) grandchildren.  My nonprofit career has afforded me amazing opportunities to lead, learn, and travel.  I am sure that it was the pit that gave us the stick-with-it-ness we needed to grow.  

Of course, I write all this from my point of view. 

Last week, for the first time since we moved 11 years ago, I returned to that home with my husband and one of our children.  As we drove through the neighborhood it was pretty cool watching our daughter remember her bus stop and the corner burrito shop.  When we pulled up in front of our once mint-green house the energy in the car crackled a bit.  My daughter’s reaction to how small the house was, how much it seemed the same after all these years, landed smack in the middle of my heart.  

For me, going back to our first house is a reminder of our collective growth.  The four of us put in physical and emotional equity to get to where we are now.  Sitting in my car looking at our first big investment I was reminded that no matter how small the beginning if you do your part, there’s more to come.  In that house, we all had to learn to trust each other; to believe that we could come from hurt and brokenness and find a new place of peace.  This ain’t perfect peace but it’s one that works for us. 

My personal lesson in that first house was how to find harmony, something I never had before. I define harmony as multiple interests coming together to form a pleasing and consistent whole.  Harmony is not unison.  Harmony is purpose so it’s perfect.

For the Jackson’s, harmony has meant learning to accept each other as we are.  Supporting each other’s unique skills, interests, and paths.  It has meant being ok with the sound not always being pretty but enjoying it anyway.

Many women are taught to pursue balance and this notion of everything always lining up equally.  That has never been my life, especially since I’ve been married.  I have had lots of do-overs and let-go’s as I have sought to live my authentic life.  To me, the gift of my marriage has been the freedom to be me.  Letting all my varied ways of being and doing just be Kelli.  Harmony.

In our first house, I learned to embrace the life I had been given and make it mine.  Today I can look back and say: I WOULDN’T CHANGE A THING. In fact, our journey as a family has made me patient.  Persistent.  Resourceful.  Determined.  Grateful.  I’m proud of myself for demystifying ‘balance’  so I could live a harmonious life.

Real talk — this life isn’t always easy but I can honestly say all the notecards, calendaring, spreadsheets and to-lists (my strengths) played a role in getting us from W. 125th to Fannin.  My part plus my husband’s part, plus my kids part, plus our village’s part have too.  I’m humbled and honored to have used my nerdy gifts to help our family grow.  

To my fellow warrior women out there: (How) have you used your personal development skills to help your family attain/maintain harmony?  Let me know in the comments below or online.

kelli

Anchor

 

Photo by Ksenia Makagonova on Unsplash

Have you ever been on a boat (of any size) during a storm?  Even when anchored? No bueno!  Listen, I was on a small boat in St. Lucia on a beautiful day and one wave had me hitting the deck.  Water terrifies me because when I look out I see no end.  No land.

No control.

Not having control is one of my greatest shortcomings.  I do not want to be in charge because I think I know everything or because I am power-hungry.  It’s actually the opposite.  For me, being in control is a way to protect myself.  Protecting myself from who/what is much harder to explain. 

As a Black woman, I have spent much of my education and career in predominantly white spaces.  That feeling of not having control of my future was very early on filled with intimidation and fear.  Was I good enough?  Why me?  

As a woman with daddy issues, I have had many relationships with men who could not communicate.  That feeling of not having control of my relationships was very early on filled with fear of abandonment.  Was I good enough?  Why me? 

Do you see the pattern?  I was pervasive in every area of my life.

When I was a child, I understood an anchor to be something to keep things steady; to stop the boat from going into dangerous territory.  As an adult, I know that an anchor is only as good as the rope or chain it is tethered to.  An anchor is no good on its own, though it often gets all the credit for holding things down.  Kind of odd since the anchor must be connected to a material to connect itself to the ocean floor well enough enough to keep the boat from drifting.  

As I think about my word for 2018 I know that I am committed to manifesting a life that is only tethered to people,  institutions, and causes that share my values. I vizualize my life anchor as being tethered to the things I hold dear.  I value honesty, loyalty, service, and empathy.  I am learning that cannot actualize in spaces that do not align with my values.  When I am required to be in relationship with people who do not share the same values, I struggle to trust them to hold me down.

This awareness did not happen overnight.  Neither did the freedom to make such a bold statement.  

I’m growing, y’all!

If you want to more fully lead with your values by aligning your personal and professional development with your purpose I want you to join me.

Over the next few weeks, I will be rolling out some programming for a small group of values-driven women.  The heart of the programming will center on creating safe spaces for women ready to focus on their personal development as they look to deepen their professional goals.  Women in the group will take deep dives surrounded and anchored by an intentional community.  There will also be a (slightly larger) Facebook group and the opportunity for one-on-one coaching.  

If you are a values-driven woman, looking to anchor yourself deeply in a plan for growth, send me an email to be notified when registration opens.  If you’re truly ready to go in the deep waters, I’d love to have you get on our boat.  

Anchors, aweigh!

kelli

Let Go

“When everything seems important nothing can get done.“
Dr. Benjamin Perkus


I know my fellow do-gooders/change agents know what it’s like to feel pressure to show up for any and everyone. 
Stop it. 
We need you and your leadership to be strong and steady. 
Prioritize. 
Delegate. 
LET GO. 

kelli

Foremothers

My Auntie Deborah recently produced an anthology called, “All the Women in My Family Sing.”  Go buy a copy!  Seriously.  It is not surprising that my aunt is responsible for such a powerful body of work.  She is an established author, journaler, and storyteller.  Plus, she has edited many papers for me over the years, including my college admissions essay.  I guess you would call her my writing muse.  Auntie Deborah writes from a place of tender authenticity.  She gets it from her daddy, Saunders King (AKA Grampy), who was a musician.  And from her mama, (AKA Grammie) who taught me, a woman does not have to have a baby unless she wants to.  

Factoid: Auntie Deborah is, in fact, my second cousin.  She became my aunt because her parents – my aunt and uncle – operated as my grandparents for most of my life.  My grandfather was her father’s brother.  They and their wives were close.  This meant that my grandparents ‘shared’ me with Deborah’s parents.  When my grandmother died I was nine years old.  So while she was the guiding presence in my early years, I spent more time building memories with my Grammie, Jo Frances King.  Grammie was a white woman, married to my beautiful, Hershey’s chocolate complexioned Grampy.  They loved and protected me.  They guided me in a way I believe my grandparents would have had they lived to see us become adults.

While I loved them both, Grammie was my beacon.  We wrote letters, talked on the phone and enjoyed endless hours of laughter.  I cannot remember a significant time in my life where she did not have a role before her death in May 2006.  I miss her.  Every.  Single.  Day.  

Take a listen to Auntie Deborah talk about Grammie (she starts around the 3:15 mark):

Grammie was an amazing woman to live and look up to.  She was humble, straightforward and generous with her time and love.  I spent many a Sunday with her.  When I moved back to California at 25 years of age to attend graduate school, my seventy-year-old plus Grammie taught me to drive. 

A bit of Grammie lives on in us all.  She was foundational like that.  

Watching Auntie Deborah talk about Grammie on this Tuesday evening leading up to Mother’s Day hit me kind of hard.  I was reminded of how much Grammie kept our family in-tact when we all, at various points in our lives, seemed to be falling apart.  Watching Auntie Deborah sit on that stage and own her power as a woman, rejuvenated me a bit.  It made me remember that no matter what I am facing, I have what I need already planted deep inside myself.  

I keep a note I wrote to Grammie on Mother’s Day 2006 taped to my wall.  In it, I wrote “I miss you lots.  I know my schedule has been crazy.  Please remember that you’re always in my thoughts…and prayers.  You taught me so much and now I’m learning to live those lessons with my family.  I take the kids to the library.  We go play tennis as a family.  Trey picks lemons for me off my lemon trees.  The seeds you planted in me are in full bloom.  Thanks for being so wonderful to me — I love you more than I can say. Kelli”

This year, I am happy to say my busy is not as out of whack as it has been in years prior.  I do not feel a depression about my infertility.  I am more intentional in my time commitments.  I am more generous with my ‘no’ and more conservative with my ‘yes.’ I can say all this in spite of the fact that life has been really hard the past year.  I am walking in my truth and power like never before.  

My Auntie Deborah holding space for women just like my Grammie taught her/us to was the reminder I needed that the legacy of our foremother(s) is our collective responsibility to pass down better ways of doing and being to those who come behind us.

I will be that beacon of light for my daughter and granddaughter.

Our foremothers will lead us home. 

This is the real meaning of Mother’s Day. 

kelli

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