Jackson Free Press

I am standing on a thin platform positioned 23 feet in the air. My body has given in to uncontrollable fits—I am sweating, shaking and crying simultaneously. "What was I thinking?" keeps playing on a feedback loop in my mind. This thought is interwoven with silent prayers of "God protect me. ... Jesus help me."

I have voluntarily signed up for a flying trapeze course.

Given my lifelong fear of heights, the act of registering in and of itself was completely irrational. Actually showing up for the class was just downright foolish. But this year, I have been on a quest to tackle my deepest fears—to be bold and live with trusting abandonment, to step into my calling and my leadership.

So here I am trembling and crying, being humbled by hundreds of pounds of steel and the 14 complete strangers who are watching from below as I dramatically fall completely apart.

"How am I supposed to get down?" I scream in between tears and gasps for air. "By trusting me," says Andre', the instructor, whom, if I may add, is entirely too calm for the current situation.

"Listen to my voice. I am right here. Just let go."

In that moment, I do just that. I trust him. I push my hips forward, stick my chest out and hold my head high. This time when Andre' calls out, "Ready! Hop!" his call is not in vain. This time I hop—I jump! And something miraculous happens: I don't die!

During that moment, I was reborn. I was flying. Quite frankly, it was exhilarating, life-changing and a blessing. As I swung, the years of irrational fear were wiped away by the beautiful winds of that calm New York day and replaced with the bold, fearless declaration that I can do anything.

Immediately upon grounding, I was overcome with emotion. The uncontrollable tears of panic were swapped with droplets of triumph. I shared my accomplishment with my husband and friends via text messages, photos and selfies. I was black-girl proud. While celebrating, I kept thinking about the feat I had just tackled. But in retelling the story, I realized that my triumphant moment was not a solo accomplishment. The trapeze flying guides left their posts and rallied around me, giving me the support I needed to not only tackle the initial moment but ensure I did it again. Yep, I didn't only hop once, I hopped twice! Additionally, 14 spectators (strangers) cheered and high-fived when I emerged from the air victoriously.

In the beauty of that moment, I was reintroduced to the magic of possibilities—the beauty of being bold and pushing past fear. More importantly, I was introduced to the leader I am consciously striving to be: a leader who colors outside the lines, not forgetting to be courageous and imaginative; a leader who is not continuously looking outward of the organization toward growth strategies, funding and strategic planning; a leader who is not afraid to be vulnerable and display fear; a leader who will walk 23 feet up a platform and say to a struggling team member, "Listen to my voice. I am right here." When have I ever shared with my staff true vulnerability, raw emotions and trust? Isn't this the art of leadership?

The most humbling reality of my flying experience is this: Each day I ask my team to trust me, but I do not give them the benefit of my trust, knowing that I can share emotions beyond certainty and that they will not simply be spectators, but the cheerleaders needed not only to sustain but to conquer our organization's mission and vision.

What I learned is that I cannot step into my leadership—my calling—without taking my team with me. We must all rise together. This realization and this bold honesty has transformed me. I am convinced that I will be a better leader and a better servant because of this revelation.

American poet, essayist and radical feminist Adrienne Rich once stated, "When a woman tells the truth, she is creating the possibility for more truth around her." I can't wait to see what truths will be born from my leap of faith.

Aisha Nyandoro is the executive director of Springboard to Opportunities in Jackson. She is an occasional columnist for the Jackson Free Press.