Attend any InsideOut event and there’s a good chance you’ll find me in the audience, crying. There’s actually an equally likely chance you’ll see me on stage – at the podium, microphone in hand – also crying. In fact, you could say, crying openly has become part of my “professional brand.” But it wasn’t always like that.

The first time I cried in front of an audience came as a complete surprise. It was InsideOut’s very first Share the Light event, a fundraiser we hosted to build community and engage our donors. As InsideOut’s newly hired Executive Director, it was my “debut performance.” I remember talking about the importance of our mission following several of our youth poets. I was so caught off guard by my emotional response, that I was actually confused by the sound of my sobs coming through the PA. Was that me?!

I’d love to say that I took it all in stride, but the truth of the matter is that I was embarrassed. I thought it made me appear weak, which is the last thing I’d want anyone to think about me, or my leadership. I endeavored to be more prepared next time, and to hold it together.

But of course, it happened again – at the very next Share the Light. I have fond memories of one of our Citywide Poets teens, Eldric, yelling encouragement to me while I fought through my tears on stage in front of 250 supporters. “Suma, come through!” Several others joined Eldric in offering their love from the audience – another young poet, Damon, even brought me a tissue on stage. 

Over the years, I came to realize that my public displays of caring so deeply about our programming were seen as a positive, not a negative. Teenagers can tell when you’re acting. They came to see my tears as irrefutable evidence that I – and by extension, the whole organization – actually, truly cared about them. 

Their love and support also had a profound impact on our audience. In conversations with attendees, folks shared with me that our event had become one of their favorites. They were glad to be personally moved by the significance of our mission, and they were prepared to cry with me. The audience feels it too at our Detroit Youth Poetry Slam, where students’ authenticity and willingness to put themselves out there means that the audience’s response – whether hoots and hollers, or quiet tears (right alongside me) – is also okay. 

As my tears found their way into other aspects of my role – like the first all-staff meeting after George Floyd’s murder – I started to become more and more aware that my comfort with vulnerability is a part of how I lead with heart. And at our public events, our youth performers now try to guess which of their poems will make me cry first. I’ve come to accept that this is now a hallmark of my leadership, along with candid communication, and being a steady force amid constant change. One aspect of strong leadership doesn’t need to be opposed to another. As Whitman famously said, “I am large, I contain multitudes.”

So, if you see me crying in public, don’t be alarmed. It means I think the work that we do is important, and I’m honored to help lead the way.

Suma Karaman Rosen

Executive Director