Foreword

I love writing, and often appreciate the opportunities to write blog posts, because I rarely make space to write like this otherwise.

This was a hard one, though.

Despite working on my confidence in executive coaching and in therapy, impostor syndrome kicked in yet again. Thoughts like, “Who do you think you are? Who would want to read this? You must be really full of yourself,” etc. ran through my head. I struggled to feel like I had something worthwhile to share, and the opportunity to write quickly began to feel like an obligation; a thing I had to do, because that’s what new CEOs are supposed to do. Because it’s what people expect me to do. (Which became a sticky, tangled ouro-boros of a mess when countered with the “Who would want to read this?” thoughts of the impostor tapes.)

So it took me a while to get here. But here we are.

And that’s largely thanks to a few lunch and coffee dates with younger professionals and leaders who reminded me that I have a responsibility to share what I’m learning with those who will take up the mantle after and alongside me. As absolutely preposterous as it feels, there are a handful of people out there who actually look up to me. And, misguided though they are, I really want them to succeed. They are each brilliant, beautiful human beings who have so much to contribute to our communities, country, and species. So if anything I’ve learned can be helpful to them, I owe it to them – and to all of us as members of this interwoven, interdependent society of humanity – to pass it along.

To Chris, Aline, and Kiara: Thank you for making me feel like I have something worth saying. This one’s for you, and anyone else who finds themselves steering the ship someday…

Starboard

Disclaimer: These are my truths. They may not be your truths, because we’re different people in different circumstances. I hope what I share is helpful, though. Which is a perfect segue into my first learning…

I have to do it MY way. 

This statement isn’t an assertion that I actually have a particular way of doing things figured out, or that my way, if it exists, is even right. What I mean is that I found out very quickly that I wasn’t going to be successful in this role if I tried to lead like someone else.

To be clear, there are definitely people whose leadership I respect and draw inspiration from. I could probably write a book about the seemingly infinite and insidious ways in which Yodit Mesfin Johnson’s leadership and influence have shaped the person I’ve become and am becoming. But I had to recognize and accept that, despite all of that, I am not Yodit. We have different personalities, histories, experiences, skills, gifts, and identities. We perceive, experience, and make sense of the world differently. So, while I can (and do) pass pretty much every decision or proposal through the “What Would Yodit Do?” filter in my brain, I’m always going to come up short.

And that’s not just true of Yodit, it’s true of every leader I’ve witnessed or worked with. They are them, I am me, you are you.

Instead, I’m borrowing and leaning on everything she taught me and everything I’ve learned along the journey to this chapter, and pouring that into my own filters. I’m learning to trust that the person who’s “made it” here (me) has what it takes to make the “right” calls.

However, despite the faith I’m learning to place in myself – something I have to practice every single day, by the way – I’ve also very quickly learned that

I am nothing without my team.

The same reflection that helped me understand that I have to lead as Will Jones III, also showed me that I am woefully underequipped to lead every part of this organization. Like, I’m doing a decent job at leading NEW as a whole, but I – and by default, the organization – would s t r u g g l e if our internal finance processes, IT Managed Services, leadership development programming…basically every one of the different departments and functions that make this organization what we are, were wholly dependent upon me. I simply don’t have the knowledge, skills, acumen, experience or disposition to make more effective and worthwhile decisions in these areas than the people who are leading with me at NEW. (And don’t even get me started on what it takes to maintain The NEW Center…)

To be clear, this is not a hollow attempt at humility. It’s something I’ve had to stare in the face after making poor suggestions, ignorant recommendations, or insufficient proposals and witnessing them get lovingly obliterated under the scrutiny and brilliant critical thinking of the people I work with. 

Which is certainly its own kind of gift…AND it is incredibly humbling, at times anxiety-inducing, and definitely does not help at all with the aforementioned impostor syndrome.

So, in many ways, I’ve been forced to accept The Will Jones III Way, because I am incredibly dependent upon my team. My style of leadership is all about ensuring that the team has everything they need to succeed. My job is first and foremost to serve the people I’m counting on to fill the gaps that I cannot, in whatever ways I can (or need to). Because it absolutely has to be – otherwise this all comes falling apart.

And in a society that puts forward narratives about a singular, brilliant genius leader whose approach revolutionizes the game, or a supremely talented superstar who rises to the top because they’re undeniably better than everyone else in the arena, my leadership style can feel…fraudulent.

But over the course of this year, I’ve started to recognize that

I have something to offer…

Back when I began executive coaching, my coach – the incredible Myles Morgan – had me do the StrengthsFinder assessment.

And it was a(nother) humbling experience.

Not only were none of my top five (5) strengths in strategic thinking or problem-solving – traits I’ve generally associated with strong leadership – I didn’t even get one in creativity, which, as an artist and musician, I’ve often thought of as humanity’s greatest superpower. Nope. Every single one of my strengths came up in the realm of relationships: Communication, Woo, Developer, Empathy, and Positivity. 

My first reaction to my results was that I would make a better talk show host than CEO. (Some might argue that is still true).

But as I’ve navigated the challenges of leading a team through a major leadership transition, a sector vilified by the federal government, a tumultuous economy, a society wracked by fear as our friends and neighbors have been kidnapped and disappeared off the streets, the continued dismantling of American democracy as we’ve known it, the uncurbed proliferation of AI…all of the fun things that 2025 and 2026 have brought us so far…my strengths have actually helped. 

Because while I’m insufficiently lacking in so many areas related to our work, it turns out that I’m pretty good at nurturing the relationships and building the trust that are foundational to real collaboration. I didn’t, don’t, and won’t ever have all the answers required to help us navigate all of the difficulties that have been thrust upon us. But I’ve got what it takes to bring the people who do together to help collectively chart a path forward. And if there’s one thing that the last year has reminded me, it’s that none of us can carry this work alone – we’ll only be able to create a brighter future by counting on one another to share the load and carry what we can’t.

So as it turns out, my strengths and my leadership style are perfectly matched for each other. And if I ignored either of those as my truth, I wouldn’t be able to leverage them for the benefit of this organization or the people we serve.

And that feels really important to acknowledge, because 

This role is full of hard things. And they’re only getting harder.

Don’t get me wrong, I understand what an honor and privilege it is to lead – especially at an organization that has been so life-changing and transformational for me. To have begun at the bottom of the org chart and to now be the lead decision-maker is still something that feels truly miraculous and dream-like. Don’t ever let anyone fool you into thinking that the opportunity to be in charge is anything less than a gift. 

But that doesn’t mean that it’s all sunshine and rainbows.

At least once a month I try (read: need) to hit the sauna, because I need a hack to force the stress out of my body. The weight of the responsibility I’ve taken on accumulates in my shoulders, like Atlas bearing the weight of the world.

Which is, of course, melodramatic. But also real – especially when our communities are under attack and the nonprofit sector, frayed and fractured though we may be, seems to be the only thing stitching it all together. None of us does this work, just because we think it’ll be cute or fun. It’s because we care – in a such an intense way that it is at times less of an emotion and more a compulsion. And for me, that has meant my mind is on work all the time. Despite the boundaries I try to hold about my time at the desk and my time away, I’m thinking about work all. the. time. 

When I’m out for a walk with my dogs. When I’m playing in the yard with my kids. When I’m on vacation at the beach with cousins I haven’t seen in two (2) years. And in those few fleeting moments I get to connect with my wife between my late night emails, her dissertation research, and getting to bed so we can wake up and do it all over again the next day…I’m thinking about work.

This role is not a job, it is a lifestyle.

And sadly, it often feels like all of that thought, energy, and attention isn’t nearly enough. Because there are some decisions that keep rolling around in my head and heart well after they’ve been made. Decisions soaked in grief, guilt, and disappointment, turning themselves over and over, like dirty laundry stuck on a spin cycle that will never get them clean.

The only solace I have in those moments is the bitter taste that’s left in my mouth. It’s a signal that I will not soon forget what this feels like, that I’ll learn from the experience, and that learning will propel me forward.

Because, as they say

A smooth sea never made for a skilled sailor.

And while I don’t aspire to be known or “famous” in my leadership, I do want to be very good at what I do. 

I’ve always looked up to the people who’ve mastered their crafts, who perform at such a level of excellence that it appears almost magical to those of us on the outside. I’ve known for a long time that can only be earned through continuous practice and reflection upon experience. And I’ve learned how infrequently it is that those people achieve that level of proficiency by easy means.

It’s always the folks who had major hurdles placed before them that become incomparably great. And it’s the act of clearing those hurdles that takes them to the next levels of excellence in their field.

So I’m embracing the challenge,

Sighing with resignation whenever another hard thing lands in my lap, while also learning to recognize it as a gift, an opportunity to level-up and get closer to the zenith of what my leadership can be.

Because this is only the beginning and the work is far from over.

In Summary

To be effective, your leadership must be authentic.

Despite what you might believe, you’re here because you have something to offer. 

Getting through the hard things is what will make you better (and you can do hard things).

Acknowledgements

Finally, I’m only able to do this, because of the people who came before me and the people who stand behind me. 

To Michael and Yodit, you laid a foundation that made it possible for someone with my unconventional leadership style and strengths to even be here. Not just because you brought me into NEW, but also because of all you did to shape our trajectory, culture, and reputation. I simply would not be doing this without all of your work. I love you both. Thank you.

To the NEW staff and board, you coached me, challenged me, and given me your trust. You’ve adapted to my alternative approaches, tolerated my (excellent) jokes, and helped me figure out the myriad of things I just don’t have the answers to. I’m so grateful I get to work with you. Thank you

To Marion, Foley, Jay and Malcolm, you raised me with a certain set of values, and opportunities to develop a worldview that led me here. I am so grateful that I got to grow up in your house, to learn from your examples, and to share what you’ve taught me with others. I love you all. Thank you. 

To Geneva and  Amara, you remind me to slow down, take a deep breath, and not let the moment pass me by. You are the embodiment of all the good things that this life has to offer – I am so lucky to be in your orbit and to witness the joy, bravery, compassion, and curiosity with which you approach the world. I love you more than words will ever be able to describe. Thank you.

And to Liz, fourteen (14) years ago, you bet on someone who was adrift and confused, arrogant in what he thought he knew, and clinging to a dream that was slipping through his fingers. You’ve stuck by me through every chapter in our adult lives, none of them easy and only seeming to get harder and more complex. Thank you for believing in me when I didn’t/don’t believe in myself. I love you and am so grateful you let me be your partner.

A year ago, I wrote a piece called FEEL. in which I reminded myself that earning the opportunity to lead was just step one, and the real work was what came after. A year later, I’m proud of how I’ve led and how my contributions are shaping our impact. I also feel confident in saying that a year proves nothing. There are so many forces beyond my control that have tipped the scales both in and against my favor – a year is simply a data point. My success will be judged by the arc of my tenure and the impact that my leadership has on the organization and community after I’ve gone (which, if I play my cards right, won’t be for a while).

But all in all, I’m pretty damn grateful to be at the helm.