Leadership Essays
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Edna ButtsGeneral Counsel and Senior Policy Advisor,The Office of State Senator Kirk Watson Leadership Austin Affiliation: 2008 Essential Class Member |
"This I Believe"
I believe that every person is special. I believe that if more people would take the time to shed labels and to understand others’ backgrounds, limitations, and dreams, we could solve many issues facing our world.
I grew up in one of the poorest communities in the United States, a town bordering Mexico where about 98 percent of the population is Hispanic. The border was seamless. Some from Mexico came to our schools, and we often shopped and ate in Mexico. It was a loving and friendly place, where people helped one another. My mother, the food service director for the local school district, taught me that everyone, regardless of their title, duties, or pay grade, is to be respected and valued. At Christmas time, she bought gifts – little trinkets - for every person on her staff, from the janitors to the managers of the nine cafeterias she ran. My father, a grocery store owner, often extended credit to families who could not afford to buy food, hoping, but not expecting, that he might be paid someday. They treated everyone with dignity.
The most potent seed of my belief that every person is special was planted by my father and his relationship with a homeless man who did yard work for our neighbor. With his cowboy hat, dirty clothes, and tired shuffle, he looked straight out of casting from The Milagro Beanfield War. Several times a week, he wandered into our back yard, where my father served him food. My father joked that he fed Elogio in case he was an angel that God had sent to test him. Although I was sure that Elogio was not an angel, I secretly wondered if he might be. It made me see him in a different light.
I left Rio Grande City to attend the University of Texas at Austin. A whole different world – and new labels - opened up to me: “hippies, frat rats, purple hair, nerds, tattoos, junior leaguers, east side, west side, tree-huggers, developers, techies, musicians, academicians,” labels I never knew existed. After 35 years in Austin, 28 of which I have spent in government service, a couple of labels come to mind that illustrate my belief that if we took the time to shed labels and understand people, we could mend fences instead of building them, we could help people instead of giving up on them.
“Illegal immigrant:” is he here because he wants to take American jobs, live on welfare, or commit crimes? Is he lonely? Does he miss his family? Is he afraid being in a strange country where people shun him, where he doesn’t speak the language? Would he rather earn a living in his native country where he can be with his family and live in familiar surroundings?
“Dropout:” are her parents just lazy? Do they not care about getting her to school? Do they have no values and aspirations for their child? Does she just want to sell drugs and paint graffiti? Or are her parents in prison? Are her parents immigrants who do not know our language and are wary of government officials? Is she hungry? Does she have to work? Is she ashamed because she can’t read or do math at the same grade level as her classmates?
I am as guilty as the next person in labeling certain types of people. But I am trying harder to learn that behind every label is a person who has worth, who deserves my respect and my understanding. If I try to see the angel, I see that person in a different light.