First of all, I was thoroughly impressed by Nam Le. He was so utterly articulate, not only in his writing, but extemporaneously. It was clear that he thought so much about not only his writing, but the greater purpose writing serves. It seems that he truly knows himself, or is at least in touch with his emotions. While I don't have his book, The Boat, I am now looking forward to reading more of his work--whenever I can find the time! (Thanks, Chris for the photocopies!)
I thought a lot about what leadership means when listening to Le's reading. The story he told was of a "brother's brother," a younger man (the narrator) guided by the actions of his troubled and dangerous older brother.
He spoke frequently about transformation and the "shape" of a person. The older brother was entirely consumed by maintaining his physique: (paraphrasing) "he didn't watch television, or even read" but felt fulfilled, that no one could look foolish when they were "strong." The younger brother, mimicking his older sibling, did push ups for hours on the tile of the bathroom floor. This account, of the narrator changing his body, his self, in response to his brother's action can serve as a metaphor for how the brother changes the narrator's being through his passive influence. The climax of Le's reading occurred with the gang-related murder of two other brothers. In a chilling juxtaposition, the brothers in power (the narrator and his older brother) brutally confront the other two, weak and stranded, on the banks of a river. The older brother hands the narrator a meat cleaver, and he (the narrator) beats the victims' skulls and hands. By the older brother's violent example, the narrator was guided to this moment, literally handed this choice by his brother, the meat clever which left those two brothers beyond any hope for life. As the narrator was prompted, by his brother's example, to change his body, he changed or rather strengthened an aspect of himself, a powerful potential for violence.
This led me to question my definition of leadership. Perhaps I'm naive, but I always thought of leadership in positive terms or at least pictured leaders as very active individuals (a compelling and forceful Hitler leading the Nazis for example.) I hadn't really thought about the powers of passive leadership. Le's narrative, however, illustrates the connection between influence and leadership. Leadership is not only standing at a podium, or issuing orders, or conscious efforts to exert influence. It is a constant and even subconscious force. A leader's effectiveness is not measured only when they are "on the clock," but at all times. The narrator's brother didn't sit him down and tell him about violence, and sex and gangs, the narrator witnessed it. This experiential learning shaped the narrator in a way he perhaps didn't even percieve until it was manifest, in a horrific and indelible moment.
Throughout Le's reading, I thought about the relationship I have with my (younger) sister and how I lead and influence her in a very similar way. I know how much my sister looks up to me, or at least looks to me for guidance. When she was three, for example, I told her what "gothic" was in passing. For the next week, she called everything gothic--our black hamster, my mom when she was wearing black--it was getting ridiculous! Le's story made me reevaluate how I appear to my sister, that all parts of my being make up her influence, that even when I am not interacting directly with her, I make some sort of impression.
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