Community Identity, By Preston Yarborough

Often we talk about understanding our personal identity or personal brand by thinking "What defines me? What makes me stand out? What are my values?" As leaders in our community, we can also shift gears to think about our community identity with "What defines our community? What makes us stand out? What are our community values?"

Here's a personal story about a dear place to me, High Point, North Carolina. As community leaders, you can apply this to your own 'neck of the woods.'

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Check One

☐ High Point: A place to live.

☑ High Point: The place to live.

Transforming High Point: From A to The.

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How would you feel if 668 North Main St., home of The Dog House, was closed for a month and when it reopened it had turned into a Subway? I'm a healthy eater, Subway is a fine establishment, but something about that corner of Main and Westwood wouldn't feel quite right. That's the difference between A and The. Subway is A fine place to eat in High Point. But a long-lost High Pointer (e.g., college students back home for a visit), want to go to The place to eat when they land back in town. The Dog House is one of The places to eat in High Point.

Subway is a uniform commodity--almost appliance-like in it's approach to dining. A well-run Subway is efficient, cost-effective, and even healthy. These are all good qualities but apart from cholesterol levels, what separates Subway from the Dog House? The Dog House is a High Point institution. It has a character and flavor all its own--and not only in the chili. A thousand Subways can't replace one Dog House. I ate three meals a week there during High School--all with my best friend Gary. We sat at the Duke booth whenever possible, even if it meant waiting an extra 10 minutes. (If we were late to class, at least it was for a noble cause!) I don't have to explain what the Duke booth is--you know because it's part of our shared history of what it means to be a High Pointer.

Cities run the risk of being viewed as commodities, or appliances. Ubiquitous strip malls, restaurant chains, and cookie cutter housing developments evidence this shift. Such changes come at a cost, one that creeps in gradually and subtly. If we pause to take stock, we may wince inside. Furniture is imported into High Point rather than manufactured here, and generations of skilled craftsmen have been left with idle hands. This once proud discipline now resides as a mere a footnote from a bygone era. What would happen if Emerywood were razed because a developer's dollars spoke louder than an ambivalent community did? And if the Dog House changed to Subway, would college kids ever come home?

More and more, High Point doesn't look and feel much different from anywhere else. As uniqueness fades, so does its character and our shared identity. I want to belong to a community that understands the Duke booth is better than the Carolina booth--period. (And I don't care if the Dog House keeps Chapel Hill calendars on the wall--the Duke booth is better!) I want to belong to a community that supports quirky, vibrant businesses. A community that creates opportunity to share its talent, its gifts, and its creative genius. A community that appreciates what it has been, where it is now, and aspires to become something meaningful and relevant for its future citizens. I hope my son has a Dog House story to share with his kids. But our future rests with us.

High Point is searching for citizen-leaders who appreciate their community, where High Point isn't merely A place, but is The place. How do we transform High Point from A to The? First we converse. We sit together, we listen, we worry, and we dream. And this won't be easy.

Margaret Wheatley is the President of the Berkana Institute, a charitable global foundation that supports life-affirming leaders and grassroots changemakers around the world. The challenges High Point faces are not unique to the Piedmont, to North Carolina, or even the United States; they are a byproduct of our times. Wheatley observed, "Good people are finding it increasingly difficult to do what they know is best. Whether we're in a small village or a major global corporation, in any country or in any type of work, we are being asked to work faster, more competitively, more selfishly--and to focus only on the short-term. These values cannot lead to anything healthy and sustainable, and they are ultimately destructive. Even though life is our best teacher, we're not learning her lessons. I believe we must learn quickly now how to work and live together in ways that bring us back to life."

A community will not sustain her citizens through this chaos, but The community can.

At the present time we are fragmented.

At the present time we have a crisis of identity.

At the present time we are either scared to death or are oblivious--and both inhibit effective action.

But we will move forward.

In the future, diverse factions will converse and find common ground.

In the future, common ground will guide our transformation.

In the future, citizen-leaders will take action.

However we must discover, nurture, and develop our resources.

Author:

Preston Yarborough, Ph.D.

Assistant Director of Leadership