By Lynne Onishi
February 7, 2024
Listen to this post.
I often tell myself maybe it’s time to “konmari” my belongings as one Marie Kondo would advise. Over time I’ve accumulated quite a collection of books, stuffed animals, camp T-shirts, and an assortment of old programs from friends’ concerts and recitals. But every now and then, I find a gem amongst the general clutter that truly sparks joy, and I find myself grateful that I’ve held on to something meaningful.
I came across one of these unexpected gems recently while attempting to sort through some digital clutter. Hidden in the text of an old Sunday school lesson template was a heartfelt letter from one of my ministry mentors. It was written six years ago when I had stepped into a new role as the youth ministry director at my church. Unbeknownst to me, this letter had been hiding in a “resources” folder for half a decade.
Even after six years, it surprised me just how much I needed to hear these words of encouragement and affirmation.
As I read, my eyes welled with tears. Someone I respected and admired saw my quirks as a great strength and truly believed in my potential to lead ministry well. Even after six years, it surprised me just how much I needed to hear these words of encouragement and affirmation.
Not exactly “leadership material”
I grew up as a self-proclaimed weird kid. If this helps to offer some context, my kindergarten teacher told my mom I was “an old soul,” which I think was a nice way to say I didn’t quite fit in with my peers. From an early age, I found that academic achievement allowed me to stand out in an acceptable way and allowed me some amount of respect from classmates. But while I excelled in my classes, I struggled to accept myself as a whole person. And I certainly didn’t consider myself much of a leader. I was quiet and awkward, and I preferred to observe from a distance rather than jump into anything.
At the time, I didn’t have words to express why I felt such a lack of empowerment, but I felt it deeply. In addition to my personal battles with self-acceptance, racial and gender stereotypes led me to doubt my leadership potential. As a young Asian American girl, I had internalized a lifetime of expectations about who I was supposed to be and how I was expected to move through the world.
At that point in my life, I’d never had a pastor, schoolteacher, or coach that reflected both of these visible identities (Asian and female). This lack of representation and the ongoing subtle messages about what it means to be an Asian girl or woman in the United States almost convinced me I’d never have influence.
Feeling empowered to lead
While there were few places where I felt empowered to lead others, the church was an exception. I grew up attending a historically Japanese American church in south Seattle, which was a good 45-minute drive from my family’s home in the suburbs. The church was a unique place where I didn’t feel beholden to stereotypes or assumptions about who I was because of my identity as an Asian American.
For one day every week, I was surrounded by supportive peers, most of whom shared similar family history. I didn’t need to spend energy explaining my existence to people who couldn’t make sense of me. Instead, I was embraced with understanding and encouraged to explore my identity, my strengths, and my gifts. It didn’t feel like a big deal at the time, but this is where I first felt empowered to live into my identities and show up as a leader.
I didn’t need to spend energy explaining my existence to people who couldn’t make sense of me. Instead, I was embraced with understanding and encouraged to explore my identity, my strengths, and my gifts.
By the end of high school, I found myself far more deeply entrenched in leadership than I’d expected. Not only had I become a church camp counselor and vacation bible school teacher, but a drum major in my high school marching band and the president of a student-run nonprofit organization. How did this happen? Though I wasn’t actively seeking out these opportunities, friends and mentors saw me perhaps more clearly than I could see myself. Every leadership position I embraced was because someone influential in my life had the perseverance and persuasion to convince me that I could, in fact, be a leader.
Leadership lessons
In the beginning, I struggled to understand that I could lead in my own quiet way. I’d learn that perhaps good leadership had nothing to do with being the loudest or most popular person in the group. But it was my ability to quietly observe, listen to, and empathize with others that actually let me find my own unique calling as a leader. Because of my own experience entering spaces as a reserved individual, I knew how it felt when leaders were unable to honor this way of being, and I vowed to do better for others. I had a certain sensitivity to those who were more hesitant to engage in groups or needed time to warm up in new settings.
But it was my ability to quietly observe, listen to, and empathize with others that actually let me find my own unique calling as a leader.
I also discovered that oftentimes the best leaders aren’t necessarily the most knowledgeable or experienced people in the group. During my first year of undergraduate studies, I was invited into leadership at a campus ministry I’d only visited once or twice. It felt odd to me that the campus minister would seek out student leaders who had such a lack of experience with the group. But because I was so unfamiliar with how the program usually did things, I could bring fresh eyes to our staff meetings and weekly programs. I was able to approach everything we did through a lens of curiosity, and I felt empowered to ask critical questions and provide feedback from a new perspective.
Empowering a new generation of leaders
Over the last decade, I’ve both struggled with and embraced this journey of shaping my own unique kind of leadership. While I haven’t always understood my own potential, others have lifted me up and believed in me. What once made me feel insecure and doubtful has now become my motivation to empower new leaders to lead in their own ways.
While I haven’t always understood my own potential, others have lifted me up and believed in me.
I’m still wondering how my intersecting identities as a queer Asian American woman have informed and continue to shape my leadership today. I’ve long struggled to embrace these identities that have caused me great insecurity. But the more I can bring my full self into all that I do, the better I can embody the kind of representation I never had. This is so important for elevating new voices and making visible the myriad ways marginalized folks lead with authenticity. My stories and experiences lend themselves to building greater solidarity with others and working for the collective good of all those experiencing oppression and marginalization, especially in the church.
___________________________________________________________________
Lynne Onishi, Polaris Fellow 2023
Lynne Onishi (she/her/hers) was born and raised in the Pacific Northwest, where her life and work have been informed by rich histories, rainy days, and endless questions about what it means to be a Christian in the least religious region of the United States. She has worked in both the local church and campus ministry settings with a focus on Asian American and queer faith communities. Lynne currently directs ministry for young people at a historically Japanese American church in Seattle, Washington. She loves finding and creating the places where her interests in psychology, the church, culture, and the arts intersect. When she is not doing ministry, Lynne is likely walking dogs, taking photos of her cats, evangelizing Taylor Swift, or enjoying some kind of dessert!