holding the space

Karen Salt, Professor of Culture, Place and Communities, Manchester Metropolitan University

About twenty years ago, I had an epiphany. It wasn’t a groundbreaking revelation, but it felt significant to me. While I knew what I loved to do, I couldn’t quite figure out how to describe it to others. Job descriptions left me feeling demotivated and often unsure if what I loved – systems analysis – meant anything to anyone else. Fast forward about a decade and systems thinking was everywhere. I routinely talked about working on complex systems and received nods of recognition from more than just the systems thinkers, mathematicians and social scientists (amongst the many people who work on and within systems). Yet, while I found a space to describe my work, I often felt stifled by a narrowness in thinking about what it could do. Although pleased with the work that I was producing, I wanted more. That epiphany? Realising that I didn’t need to wait for someone else to turn my passions into possibilities.

In time, I was able to turn this epiphany into things that had the radical potential to transform society. For example, I took an early interest in the ways communities mobilise and come together to solve grand challenges and turned that into interventions that put communities at the heart of technological solutions. I needed to go from thinking about systems to creatively working within and across them. This may seem like a simple and linear process. A leads to B and then transforms into C with a bit of stubbornness and luck. Easy, right? Not initially, at least.

I have always considered myself a complex thinker. When I played any kind of Myers-Briggs game, I would inevitably end up as an ENFP – a creative problem-solving butterfly subjecting the world to their boundless energy and extroverted chaos. I can relate to aspects of those traits. But being a Black woman working in fields and institutions where there have often been few, if any, senior women who have looked like me, I quickly realised that problem solving was not always valued. In fact, my strengths could sometimes be re-coded and played back to me as a refusal to follow the rules.

When confronted with this line of thinking, I often responded with exasperation. Even with all the accomplishments that I achieved, I knew that there were people who expected me to perform and exist within a very specific set of criteria. I could be interesting and, occasionally, clever, but brilliance wasn’t allowed.  To them, my energy and confidence was coded as arrogance. And yes, in some instances, I even heard the word aggression. Interestingly, when I collaborated with male colleagues doing the exact same type of work, our collaborative activities weren’t articulated in negative ways. We were creative, not contrary or difficult.

I would also respond to this type of limited thinking with confusion. I knew I was doing what I was asked to do, so why was my performance so often not recognised or encouraged?

I could spiral around these thoughts for hours – and often did – until I did something critically important about five years ago. I took some time to think about who I was as a thinker, maker and professional. I reflected on previous jobs and roles and made myself think about what attracted me to my career, what excited me and what held me back. I also took some time to think about what legacy I wanted to leave for a future me – and what I would say to her if we passed each other on the street. I realised something profound after all this thinking. Yes, I began to recognise my skills and talents, on my own terms and in my own language. But something else also happened. I began to understand who I was and what I could do and how those qualities transcended the narrow boxes that some attempted to use to define me. I was both more than the sum of my parts – I was all of them. And I loved what I did. In reminding myself of the joy in my work, I began to feel different about my work and to carry that joy into the hard times and the quiet ones. I revelled in my abilities as a problem-solver, yes, but I also acknowledged myself as a creative thinker who takes pleasure in working alongside others to create a world that is fairer, more equitable and – to put it plainly – more fun. In reviewing and re-centering, I found myself able to see my qualifications not as simply things I do, but as my superpowers. My job, now, is to not let anyone derail me from my own power and my own truth. Odd things will still happen, and difficulties may still arise, but I’ll be damned if I let anyone make me disappear.

I cherish the me that I have become. She’s a lucky person with a great network of friends and colleagues, but she’s here on the wings of others – some of whom never got to experience the highs of science or life, only the lows. If you are reading this, know that we may have never met, but I hear you. I see you. And I know that you, too, have a superpower waiting to be discovered.