By Yesterday I attended a non-profit board meeting. The first item on the agenda was simple: Introductions.
As we went around the room, I noticed something interesting about how people introduced themselves.
In most corporate settings, introductions usually sound something like this:
“Hi, I’m ___, I’m the ___ at ___, I’m based in ___, and I’ve been with the company for ___ years… and here’s a fun fact.”
It’s almost formulaic.
But this meeting was different.
Each person led with something far more personal — their spouse, how long they had been married, their children (and grandchildren), and how long they had been connected to the organization or serving on the board.
Then it was my turn.
I stumbled through my introduction (clearly something I need to work on!). I don’t have a spouse or children, which shortens the introduction quite a bit. As I listed my “qualifications,” I suddenly felt a bit exposed — almost embarrassed — wondering what others in the room might be thinking as they tried to place me into a category.
Truthfully, I’m still trying to figure that out myself.
It reminded me of a post I wrote at the beginning of my consulting journey and the start of this blog. At the time, I was wrestling with the same question:
How do we define ourselves?
Is it by our titles?
Our years of service?
Our relationships?
Our roles in organizations?
Or can we simply be… ourselves?
And if that isn’t enough, why not?
If you want to go a little deeper — maybe even theological — consider how the disciples were identified in the Bible. Many of them were simply known as fishermen. There’s no resume. No list of accomplishments. No introductions mentioning years of experience, job titles, or family status.
Just ordinary people who answered a calling.
I’m certainly not comparing myself to a disciple. But it does make me wonder how we ended up with such rigid definitions of identity.
Maybe the better question isn’t “How do I introduce myself?”
Maybe it’s simply:
“Who am I when all the labels are removed?”