Jackson: The most dangerous person in any organization might be the one with the title 'leader.' We're taught to look up to them, but what if the real power to create change comes from the person you'd least expect—the deli worker, the single mom, the former gang member? Olivia: That is such a provocative way to put it, and it gets right to the heart of what we're talking about today. It’s the core idea in the book Everyone Leads: Building Leadership from the Community Up by Paul Schmitz. And this isn't just some abstract theory from an academic ivory tower. Schmitz is a guy who has lived this. He was the national CEO of Public Allies, a renowned leadership development organization, and he even served as a social innovation advisor to the Obama White House. His entire career has been about finding and nurturing leaders in the most unconventional places. Jackson: Okay, but 'everyone leads' is a fantastic slogan for a t-shirt. How does that actually work in the real world without descending into total chaos? If everyone is leading, who is following? It sounds a bit like a recipe for disaster. Olivia: I get the skepticism. It completely upends our traditional pyramid-shaped idea of how things should work. But Schmitz argues that we've been defining leadership all wrong. We think of it as a noun—a leader, a position, a title. He wants us to see it as a verb—the action of leading. It's about taking responsibility to work with others toward a common goal. Jackson: An action, not a position. I like the sound of that, but it still feels a bit abstract. Does he have any proof that this model actually works? Olivia: He has so much proof, and it’s the stories that really make this book come alive. He starts with a brilliant analogy that I think everyone will get. Do you remember the movie Ratatouille? Jackson: Of course! The rat who becomes a world-class chef. "Anyone can cook!" Olivia: Exactly! And at the end of the movie, the cynical food critic, Anton Ego, has this amazing revelation. He writes, "Not everyone can become a great artist, but a great artist can come from anywhere." Schmitz says the same is true for leadership. A great leader can come from anywhere.

Jackson: A great leader can come from anywhere. That’s a powerful idea. But a Disney movie is one thing. I need a real-world example. You can’t just tell me a rat can cook and expect me to restructure my company. Olivia: Fair enough. Let's talk about Peter Hoeffel. When Public Allies first found him, he was a philosophy graduate from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. And where was he working? At a downtown deli, slicing meat. He felt completely unfulfilled. He said, "I wanted to make the world a better place. I didn’t feel like too many places were looking to hire someone with a philosophy degree and a minor in Africology." Jackson: I can definitely relate to that feeling. You have this passion and education, but the world just wants you to make a sandwich. So what happened? Olivia: One day, a recruiter for Public Allies came into the deli to post a flyer. Peter struck up a conversation, learned about the program, and decided to apply. He got in. He was placed at an organization called Legal Action Wisconsin, and through his work there, he discovered a deep, burning passion for disability rights. This wasn't something he'd ever considered before. Jackson: Wow. So he found his calling. Olivia: He absolutely did. And he didn't just find a job; he found his leadership path. Over the next decade, he grew into a major figure in the field. He helped lead a statewide coalition of disability rights groups. He eventually took over the Milwaukee chapter of the National Alliance on Mental Illness, which was struggling financially, and completely turned it around, expanding its services to underserved communities. This is a guy who went from a deli counter to a powerful advocate, all because someone saw potential where others just saw a guy making a sandwich. Jackson: That’s incredible. It’s a total shift in perspective. You stop looking for the person with the perfect resume and start looking for the person with passion and potential. Olivia: And sometimes, the potential is buried under a life story that would make most HR departments run for the hills. Take the story of Frank Alvarez. When he was growing up in Los Angeles, he said his male relatives "graduated from juvenile hall to county jail and then on to state prison." And he was, in his own words, "following the same path." He was a gang member and had served time in county jail. Jackson: Okay, that’s a background that doesn't exactly scream 'future leader.' Olivia: Not in the traditional sense. But Frank wanted to change his life. He got into a program called YouthBuild, earned his GED, and then joined Public Allies. He was placed at a community development organization, and for the first time, he was in a room with peers who had degrees from UCLA and USC. He said, "I learned from them and gained confidence that I could do this, too." Jackson: So the environment changed his perception of himself. Olivia: Completely. He discovered a passion for education and helping young people who were on the path he had just escaped. Today, Frank Alvarez is the director of a YouthBuild Program, creating opportunities for youth who have been incarcerated or disconnected from school. He’s literally making amends for the damage he caused as a gang member by building a new generation of leaders. Jackson: That gives me chills. So it’s not just about feel-good stories. There's a systemic point here, isn't there? We are actively overlooking a massive pool of talent because it doesn't fit our preconceived notions of what a leader looks like. Olivia: That's exactly it. We're obsessed with what Schmitz calls "resume bling." We look for the Ivy League degree, the fancy internship. And in doing so, we miss the people with street smarts, resilience, and a deep, firsthand understanding of the problems we're trying to solve.

Jackson: That makes so much sense. We're filtering out the very people who might have the real solutions. And that brings up a bigger question. If we're looking at individuals the wrong way, are we looking at entire communities the wrong way too? Olivia: You've just hit on the second major idea in the book. Schmitz argues that for decades, our approach to community development has been fundamentally broken. We walk into neighborhoods with what he and his mentors, John McKnight and Jody Kretzmann, call a "needs map." Jackson: A "needs map"? What's that? Olivia: It's a mental map that only charts the problems. It lists the high dropout rates, the crime statistics, the broken families, the unemployment numbers. It’s a map of deficits, of emptiness. And when you only see the problems, you start to believe the people who live there are the problems. Jackson: And the people in the community start to believe it themselves, I imagine. Olivia: Precisely. There's a devastating story in the book about a woman named Edna Johnson from the South Bronx. She told the researchers, "We are in a prison—not a prison of iron bars... but a prison in people’s minds. When I tell someone I am from the South Bronx, a whole set of negative and hopeless images emerges in that person’s mind, and I become part of that." Jackson: Wow. That's heartbreaking. It's like the community is being defined by its worst day, over and over again. It becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. You're told you're a problem, so you feel like a problem, and the cycle continues. Olivia: It creates a culture of dependency. The community becomes a collection of "clients" waiting for outside professionals and institutions to come in and "fix" them. It strips them of their agency and power. So Schmitz proposes a radical alternative: instead of a needs map, we need an "asset map." Jackson: Okay, hold on. "Asset-Based Community Development" sounds a bit like nonprofit jargon. What does that actually look like on a Tuesday afternoon in a real neighborhood? Olivia: It looks like a treasure hunt. Instead of asking "What's wrong here?", you ask "What's strong here?" You look for the hidden gifts, skills, and passions of the residents. You map the local associations—the church groups, the block clubs, the dominoes players in the park. You see institutions like libraries and schools not just as service providers, but as community hubs. Jackson: So you're looking for the treasure chest, not the trash can. Olivia: Perfect analogy. And you find the most amazing things. There's a fantastic example from Indianapolis, in a neighborhood that was known for crime and blight. A local church started something called the Zawadi Exchange, which is Swahili for 'gift exchange.' Their "roving listeners" went out to connect with local youth. They found a group of kids interested in health. Jackson: And the old model would have been to create a "program" for them, right? A lecture on nutrition or something. Olivia: Exactly. But the asset-based approach is different. They connected these kids with doctors and nurses who lived in the neighborhood. Together, they formed something called the "Blood Pressure Posse." Jackson: The Blood Pressure Posse? I love it! Olivia: These kids, who might have been seen as a "problem" on a needs map, were trained to take blood pressure readings and educate their elderly neighbors about health. They organized walking clubs. They worked with local gardeners to get fresh food to people. And you know what? The older residents listened to them. Why? Because they weren't outsiders from some institution. They were kids from the neighborhood who cared. They were an asset.

Jackson: Okay, so you find these hidden leaders, you focus on a community's assets. It all sounds incredibly powerful and positive. But leadership is messy. It's not always about success stories. People fail. They burn out. They face impossible ethical choices. How does the book handle the tough stuff, the dark side of leadership? Olivia: This is where the book gets really deep. Schmitz argues that the foundation of all this work is integrity. But he defines integrity in a really expansive way. It's not just about being honest. He says it's about being accountable in four directions: accountable to yourself, accountable to those you work with, accountable to those you serve, and accountable to those who came before you. Jackson: Accountable to history. That's a heavy one. Olivia: It is. And the best way to understand it is through another incredible, and very raw, story. It’s about a young woman named Amelia Kolokihakaufisi from East Palo Alto, California. Her community was facing high crime rates and was largely bypassed by the Silicon Valley boom happening right next door. Jackson: So she was living in the shadow of immense wealth. Olivia: Exactly. And her life was hit by a series of tragedies. First, her mother had a severe stroke, and Amelia had to drop out of college to become the family's primary caregiver and breadwinner. Then, shortly after, her boyfriend was murdered. Jackson: Oh, my god. That’s an unimaginable amount of pain and pressure for a young person. Most people would just collapse under that weight. Olivia: And she almost did. But instead, she channeled her grief into action. She was furious about the gun violence tearing her community apart. So she organized a "Peace and Unity March." She expected a few dozen people to show up. Over a thousand residents marched with her, demanding a cease-fire. And for the next eight months, there were no gun-violence-related murders in her city. Jackson: To go through that and not just collapse, but to lead... that's a different kind of strength. Olivia: It's a profound kind of leadership, forged in fire. She later joined Public Allies and reflected on her journey. She said she realized that leadership wasn't about being the loudest person in the room. She learned to be versatile, to be empathetic, to be authentic. She said, "I realized that I had to stop being who I thought others wanted me to be." She was holding herself accountable to her own story, to her community, and to the memory of her boyfriend. She was turning her pain into a purpose that served others. That, Schmitz argues, is the deepest form of integrity.

Jackson: Wow. So we've gone from a rat in a kitchen, to a community's hidden treasures, and we've ended with this incredible story of turning grief into power. It feels like the book is building a whole new definition of leadership from the ground up. Olivia: It really is. It’s a fundamental shift in perspective. Leadership isn't about the resume, the title, or the corner office. It's not about being born with charisma or a silver spoon. It's about the choice to take responsibility for the well-being of the whole. It’s about seeing the fullness in people and places where others only see emptiness. Jackson: And it’s about having the courage to act, even when you're scared or grieving or feel like you're the last person who should be in charge. The book has received a lot of praise for this message, but some readers have found it a bit idealistic, suggesting it can gloss over the hard-edged realities of power and privilege. But these stories... they don't feel idealistic. They feel incredibly real. Olivia: I think that's the key. The principles might sound lofty, but the stories are grounded in struggle. They acknowledge the pain and the difficulty. Leadership isn't easy, and the book doesn't pretend it is. But it makes a compelling case that it's possible for anyone who is willing to try. It leaves us with a really powerful question, not for some far-off CEO, but for ourselves. Jackson: Right. It’s not about waiting for "the leaders" to fix things. It’s about looking in the mirror. So the question for all of us listening is: What's the one thing in your community, your workplace, or even your family that you see needs to change? And what's one small action you can take this week to start leading on it? Olivia: It could be as simple as organizing a cleanup on your block, mentoring a younger colleague, or starting a difficult but necessary conversation. The point is to start. Jackson: A powerful and challenging thought to end on. Olivia: This is Aibrary, signing off.