FOMO

Definition: Fear of Missing Out

Closely Related: POMO (Pain of Missing Out)

Until a few weeks ago, I had no clue what FOMO was. I didn’t really need to use the term. I had my quiet little life in South America with a busy but not harried pace. I knew I missed things like Thanksgiving dinners and relative’s birthday parties back home, but I was content.

Meet the MBA program at Stephen M. Ross School of Business. There are something like 70 clubs, 200 companies recruiting on-campus, and 20 institutes and centers. No one can do it all, not even when “it all” is narrowed down to a specific interest area like marketing, venture capital, or careers with impact. There’s always someone going to a corporate presentation or a club meeting or preparing a presentation for the next day. There’s so much happening that it’s hard to even know what one is missing.

The advice from MBA2s: relax. No one is behind at this point. Two weeks into the semester, an MBA1 can’t have missed the boat already and completely lost an opportunity. As a dual-degree student, I’m learning that it’s even truer for me. I can take a deep breath, evaluate my goals, and explore a little bit.

I might feel that I’m drinking from a fire hose, but the truth is the door of opportunity has been flung wide open. Along with about 900 other MBA students in the full time program, I get access to a wealth of resources that I’ve never had before. Sure, it can be overwhelming. At times, I will have to miss one thing to participate in another. But this atmosphere is exhilarating. Once I’m able to set aside my fear (or pain) of missing one opportunity because I choose another, I can marvel that I have even one of those opportunities in the first place. So forget the fear. I’ll choose to embrace the Joy of Participating.

Silence and Feeling Really Small

During my first week back as a student in the classroom, I realized that it was difficult for me to speak up in class. I second guessed whether to assert my voice. I wondered if I was worth being heard.

Where were those thoughts coming from? All throughout my academic life, I had been outspoken, unafraid of making mistakes. I knew I had something to contribute, and I had no shame in giving the wrong answer or mentioning something that might not be 100% relevant. Yet in the time I spent away from academia, something changed. My life experiences taught me to doubt myself. I received the subliminal message often enough that said, “Your voice doesn’t matter. Your concerns won’t be heard. You’re wasting your time if you speak up.” I guess I internalized it more than I expected, and it has been shaping my actions.

Digging deeper, I must ask myself about the source of that message. What were the circumstances that make me feel so powerless? The two times I’ve gone to the Financial Aid Office on campus, I’ve had physiological reactions—my heartrate increased, I wanted to run away, I struggled to express myself, and I anticipated being shrugged off. Thankfully, the people I spoke with both times were extremely gracious and helpful, but the question remains, “Why was my body reacting with fear when it faced an institution with power over my future opportunities?”

I think the answer reveals itself in a review of my interactions with institutions of power over the past five years. There was the time my parents and I were drugged and robbed in Quito. The police nearby did nothing. They were apathetic to my request for help to stop the thief who ran off with my backpack. Then there was the time I lost my passport on the way to the Ecuadorian immigration office. When I called the US embassy, they were too busy commemorating September 11 to help me. They basically said, “Figure it out from our website, and call us later.” Another time, I went to the embassy to drop off my overseas voter’s ballot. I was turned away. The guard refused me, a US citizen, entry to my country’s embassy for several hours. I thought that US citizens can never be refused access to a US consulate or embassy, but I must have been wrong. Maybe that only works for Jason Bourne.

Then there was the visa process and the ever-changing list of requirements. In five years, I had five different Ecuadorian visas. At one point, I almost had to travel to Peru and hope I could get a tourist visa. My sponsoring organization didn’t have its paperwork in the required format, and I was within days of my current visa expiring. For my most recent visa, I needed to be fingerprinted for a US police report. I went to the Ecuadorian criminal investigation service with the printed form so they could ink my prints onto the paper. However, the young detective insisted that I first be entered into the Ecuadorian system. He took my mug shot as if I was a criminal. Then he took extra time to digitally fingerprint me, making passes at me the whole time. Finally, he sent me over to his older coworker to fill out the form that had brought me there in the first place. I felt completely humiliated by the time I left.

I could go on. When I was hit by a car, people asked me if I wanted them to call an ambulance (wasn’t it a given?) The hospital refused me service until I presented proof of the ability to pay (what if I had been bleeding internally?) When I went to ensure the police filed their paperwork with the prosecutor’s office, I found out that they had written down the wrong license plate number. My case never went to court.

I almost missed my flight once because Ecuadorian immigration messed up my passport number on my previous entry into the country. I have yet to get through US immigration without a big X over my face, indicating that they think I’m suspicious.

Of all these events, can I point to one and say, “That’s the reason why I don’t speak up—why I shrink back from advocating for myself when I interact with large institutions?” No, it’s the cumulative effect of time and again feeling powerless. I spoke up at first. I challenged the US embassy on the way that guard treated me. Then the next elections came around and I experienced the same treatment. Should I shout louder? Should I rage against the injustices? It would just be noise. I’ve never seen anything happen because of my complaints.  I learned that it was easier to keep my head down and move forward, working harder and hoping that I could overcome the barriers in my way.

Now I’m living in the United States again. It’s not a system that rewards those who keep their heads down. I need to defend myself, and the people I speak to actually have some agency—they can challenge the system and make things happen. They make special exceptions for those who know how to advocate for themselves.

I’m trying to unlearn my silence. I’m trying to rebuild my confidence. My self-talk these days is, “Your voice matters. You won’t be punished for trying.” It’s hard, but I’m back in a society with a low power distance. I don’t sit at the bottom of a massive hierarchy in which everyone follows a prescribed process. I can approach those who make decisions, and it’s refreshing to have them listen to me. I know that I can’t instantaneously overcome my physiological reaction to certain situations, but I’m working on my mindset. Hopefully someday I will feel at ease once again in this country where I’m learning how to belong.

Returning and Belonging

From the moment when I publicly acknowledged that I would be moving from Ecuador to the United States, my sense of belonging shifted. The words "returning" and "coming back" suddenly entered my conversations with increased frequency. On the flip side, "leaving," "moving," and occasionally "abandoning us" also reached a new level of familiarity. Conversations with my family and friends in the United States received an injection of excitement and eager expectation. At the same time, my days filled up with an increasing number of goodbye parties and conversations about how great the past few years had been. My future was no longer in Ecuador, so even my continuing presence in the country was lived in an odd twilight zone of being but not belonging.

I always had known that my life in Ecuador was not permanent. However, that knowledge did not limit my assimilation over the course of five years. I was always the foreigner, but I became a foreigner who understood, who belonged, who added diversity to the conversations. I was applauded for learning the language, including the slang and Kichwa words randomly inserted in everyday conversation. I received the love and affection of my new friends who became like family. As I shared my life with them, I simultaneously absorbed a deep understanding of Ecuadorian culture. I needed to understand the country and the people to survive. I wanted to think like an Ecuadorian and view the world through their eyes to thrive. Did I achieve that? Not completely, but it was enough to build a life in which I belonged in Ecuador.

Now I have left. Or maybe I have returned. Regardless, I am no longer in Ecuador. Here no one cares if I know the bus times from Cruz Chicta. No one will as me "imanalla?" I no longer buy tree tomatoes, uvilla, and papaya at the market to make juice. I can't open a fresh cocoa pod with a machete and enjoy the juicy white baba that surrounds the beans. Darting between cars to cross a 6-lane road and wearing a backpack in front of me on a crowded bus are no longer useful skills. All that knowledge has no practical application for my new life.

I have to set aside all the ingrained tendencies, knowledge, and skills to make room for the news. I need to learn to yield to pedestrians even if they are not yet in the crosswalk. I need to get used to paying ten times more for produce at the store or farmer's market. I have to write well-organized essays instead of explaining business concepts in simple Spanish language. I need to speak up and advocate for myself instead of waiting my turn in line. These things would have been my norm if I had never left Michigan. July would have been a normal summer month instead of marking the end of my time in Ecuador and the beginning of my return to Michigan.

These are my experiences of returning. Some say that I am back where I belong, where I was raised. However, belonging implies a level of comfort and familiarity. I don't have that. The Michigan I left five years ago is not the one I encounter today. Just as I changed, Michigan has moved forward. 

Now I am trying to redefine myself. I am still in that twilight zone, but now it is in Michigan. I am present, but I don't yet belong. This is not the excitement of exploring a new country. It is the complexity and hard work of bringing back what I learned in a different country and combining it with the reality of a place I used to know. I have returned, but when will I belong?

A Christmas Blessing

During this Christmas season, my prayer, and the pray of all those at Partners Worldwide, is voiced in this Benedictine Blessing:

May God bless you with a restless discomfort
about easy answers, half-truths and superficial relationships,
so that you may seek truth boldly and love deep within your heart.

May God bless you with holy anger at injustice, oppression,
and exploitation of people, so that you may tirelessly work for
justice, freedom, and peace among all people.

May God bless you with the gift of tears to shed with those who suffer
from pain, rejection, starvation, or the loss of all that they cherish, so that you may
reach out your hand to comfort them and transform their pain into joy.

May God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that
you really CAN make a difference in this world, so that you are able,
with God’s grace, to do what others claim cannot be done.

And the blessing of God the Supreme Majesty and our Creator,
Jesus Christ the Incarnate Word who is our brother and Saviour,
and the Holy Spirit, our Advocate and Guide, be with you
and remain with you, this day and forevermore.

AMEN.

Sister Ruth Fox, OSB

Strategic Planning

Cuenca Partners spent time this past Saturday working on a strategic growth plan for the next four years. During a retreat in Yunguilla, ten members of the leadership team reviewed the ministry's vision and mission before delving into a debate of the strengths, weaknesses, opportunites and threats for Cuenca Partners. Over the next 3 months, they hope to complete the plan and begin putting it into action.

In the meantime, the weekend retreat resulted in an immediate commitment to more frequent team meetings and a renewed focus on mentoring for training graduates.

César Borja leads a discussion of Cuenca Partners' organizational strengths

A Conference in Cuenca

What would happen if business and church leaders met together to delve deeper into the issues of poverty in their community? What would happen if they went beyond that to consider how to work together on long-term solutions to poverty?

That is the premise of a conference being planned for April by Cuenca Partners in conjunction with Partners Worldwide and PovertyCure.

During the October Marketplace Revolution Conference, Boris Ordonez and Felix Hernandez, the respective leaders of the Ecuadorian and North American sides of the Partners Worldwide partnership in Cuenca, caught the vision of engaging not only their church in their city, but the entire ecumenical Church in Ecuador in this question.

Boris is a leader in the Verbo Church of Cuenca, with two thousand members, several ministries, and different organizations from an orphanage to a medical clinic to a radio that meet various needs in the community. However, he says that, "I think our ministry here lacks an understanding of why and how [we can] help people overcome poverty. We do a lot of charity but nothing with the vision of Business as Mission." His hope is to invite leaders from over 30 Verbo churches in Ecuador, as well as leaders from the Catholic church, other evangelical churches, government ministries, and business people to engage with PovertyCure and Partners Worldwide in a 2-day conference.

Over that time, PovertyCure would help Christians develop an awareness of the church's responsibility in addressing poverty. Through Partners Worldwide, they would take the next step and consider how churches and businesses can develop sustainable programs to create jobs and increase the ability of entrepreneurs to successfully go from poverty to having an income and even being able to employ others.

We still have four months and a lot of planning to make this a reality, but the enthusiasm for this event is tangible!

MR14 Workshop on the "Call to Business and the end of Poverty"
Cuenca Partners was inspired by this workshop to plan a similar
conference for April of 2015

Marketplace Revolution 2014

Today marked the end of an amazing experience with 10 Ecuadorian visitors. While many of them have hosted me at times over the past 4 years while I visited their city and worked with them in the cities of Cuenca, El Guabo, and Guamote, this week was my chance to play host.

During the last two days, over 500 attendees descended on Grand Rapids, Michigan for the biannual Marketplace Revolution Conference hosted by Partners Worldwide. Some highlights of that time have been:

• Dinner together with 22 members of our 3 Ecuadorian partnerships on Thursday night
• Connecting leaders from our Latin American agricultural partnerships with Justin, a Zambian expert on bringing farmers from subsistence to sustainable production to reaching the level of agribusiness.
• Three Ecuadorians presented on our church-based model, mentoring program, and agricultural work in breakout sessions.
• Cesar Luzuriaga, one of our Cuenca Partners leaders, participated in the closing ceremony and delivered part of the commissioning.

Tomorrow I will head to Hudsonville and New Era, Michigan with attendees from Guamote, Michigan to meet with donors and visit a dairy processing facility.