Becoming Someone I Didn't Expect to Become

I (Glen) invited Fred to enquire of a few people who know him well what they had noticed since he started his Champions journey. Was there any difference, had they seen any changes, if so, what?

Fred spoke to his sister Lillian.

Understanding is a key foundation of Champions: understanding ourselves and understanding others.

Learning how others see us is a key part of this process. Do they see what we think they see?

There is a phrase at the Kigali Genocide Memorial that says, “If you knew me and really knew yourself, you would not have killed me.”

Understanding is, therefore, preventative. It acts as an important brake on certain behaviours, however driven, that are ultimately inhumane.

In Champions we take this further. We also see understanding as formative.

It helps us to become the person we really are, to unlock our innate human capabilities - our ‘super human’ powers.

In simple terms, humanity is a performance multiplier. Not only does it prevent bad things, but it enables great things.

It is the foundation of the Art of Enablership, as my good friend Barrie Watson says in his new book.

It is a pathway of discovery, a Champions Pathway that unlocks the ability to thrive.

My Champions Journey - By Fred

When I asked my sister Lillian what she thought had changed about me since I started college, her answer surprised me.

She said that I had become more social, more refined in my interests, a better writer, and more open to adventure.

None of those things were really what I expected to hear.

When I think about who I was entering college, I think of someone who was curious, ambitious, and very comfortable being on his own. I liked books, history, ideas, and spending an almost unreasonable amount of time thinking about things that most people probably did not want to think about at all. I had a fairly clear picture of what I was interested in and an even clearer picture of what I wanted to accomplish.

I did not necessarily expect college to change the way I lived.

But it has.

Becoming More Social

I have met an enormous number of people in college. Some became close friends. Others became mentors, colleagues, classmates, or simply people I was glad to have crossed paths with. That sounds ordinary. For me, it wasn't always.

I used to think being independent meant being able to do things yourself. College has made me realize that there is another kind of independence: being comfortable enough with yourself to let other people into your life.

Some of that change happened through CIMEA.

When I first became involved, I was mostly thinking about the work. There were events to organize, people to coordinate, and eventually an entire chapter to lead. But over time, the people became the part I cared about most.

I remember nights at the DACOR House, sitting around with other students and young professionals, talking about the Middle East, careers, Washington, and whatever else came up. Some conversations were serious. Some were completely ridiculous. Most went on much longer than they were supposed to.

Those nights became part of what I like about Washington.

The city started to feel less like the place where I went to college and more like a place where I was actually building a life.

But the biggest joy of the social side of college has probably been mentoring.

I think I enjoy mentoring so much because I know what it feels like to be on the other side of it. As a first-generation college student, I showed up to college without knowing a lot of the things that seem obvious once you have been around them for a while. I did not know how to tie a tie. I did not know how to make a resume. I could barely figure out what I was supposed to wear to certain events. And, as a colorblind person, I was occasionally just hoping I had managed to match my socks.

There were a lot of little things I had to learn by trial and error, usually by finding someone who was willing to explain something that I did not know enough to ask about.

That experience has stayed with me. When I work with younger students now, I want to be the person who can make some of those things a little easier for them. Sometimes that means helping someone think through a career decision. Sometimes it means reading a resume. Sometimes it is explaining how an organization works or telling someone what to expect at an event. And sometimes it is simply telling someone, "You belong here," when they are not sure that they do.

There is something really rewarding about watching someone become more confident. You can see a person arrive unsure of themselves and, over time, watch them start taking up more space, trying things they would not have tried before, and realizing that they actually belong in the room.

I recognize that feeling because I have had people do that for me.

That is also why I believe so strongly in Champions. It is not just a one-off class or a leadership program that ends when the semester does. It is a self-sustaining movement built around the idea that what is poured into one person can eventually be poured into someone else.

I came into college needing people who would teach me the things I did not know, encourage me when I was unsure of myself, and help me see possibilities I could not yet see on my own. Champions has given me another framework for understanding how powerful that kind of investment can be.

What makes the program meaningful to me is the possibility that it does not stop with me. With time, I can take what has been poured into me and pour it into someone else. Then, hopefully, they will do the same for somebody after them.

That is the kind of impact I want to have: not simply being someone who was helped, but becoming someone who helps other people become who they are capable of becoming.

Champions has changed more than the way I think about leadership. It has changed the way I approach people. I am more willing to listen before deciding what I think about someone. I am more comfortable starting conversations with people I do not know. I am more willing to let a relationship develop without immediately knowing where it is going.

And I think I am simply more comfortable being around people.

Becoming More Refined

Lillian also said I have become more refined in my interests.

That one made me laugh a little, because I am not sure I would have described myself that way.

But I understand what she means.

College has given me the opportunity to go deeper into the things I already cared about, while also discovering interests I did not know I had. History became international affairs. Curiosity about the Middle East became a serious interest in the region, its languages, politics, and people. Writing went from something I enjoyed to something I increasingly see as a way of making an argument and contributing to a conversation.

My interests feel less like a collection of things I happen to like and more like parts of a larger picture.

That has happened partly because of the people I have met. Washington is a strange place to go to college because you can walk out of class and end up in a conversation with someone working on something you were just reading about. You can spend an afternoon in a library and an evening at an event where somebody is discussing the same issue from a completely different perspective.

I have become more interested in people who care deeply about things, even when those things are not my interests. That has made my own interests better.

It has also made me more comfortable admitting when I do not know something.

There are a lot of things I still know very little about.

I enjoy that now.

Becoming a Better Writer

The writing piece is probably the easiest change for me to recognize.

I have always liked writing, but college has taught me that liking to write and knowing how to write are very different things. I have written research papers, policy pieces, opinion articles, applications, reports, emails, presentations, and far too many drafts of things that eventually became one paragraph.

A lot of that writing has happened in Washington. I have written in coffee shops, libraries, parks, campus buildings, offices, hotel rooms, and on benches when I happened to find myself with an idea and nowhere else to put it. At this point, I feel like I have written in almost every indoor and outdoor crevice this city has to offer.

There is something about Washington that makes me want to write.

Maybe it is the fact that so much of the city revolves around arguments. People are constantly trying to explain what happened, what is happening, what should happen next, and why they are right about it. Being surrounded by that has made me more interested in figuring out what I actually think.

More importantly, I have learned that good writing is not simply about sounding intelligent.

It is about knowing what you are trying to say.

The more I write, the more I understand that clarity is its own form of discipline. You have to know what matters, what does not, what your reader needs to understand, and when you are simply adding words because you are not yet comfortable with the argument.

That is something I am still learning. But I am much more confident in my ability to take an idea that exists mostly in my head and turn it into something another person can understand.

Becoming More Adventurous

The last part of Lillian's observation may be the biggest change of all.

I have become more willing to say yes.

Some of that has happened in Washington. I have worked late nights as a tour guide, sometimes finishing when most of the city was already winding down. There is something strange and fun about walking through Washington at that hour, seeing the monuments and streets you have walked through hundreds of times look completely different because most of the tourists are gone.

I have gotten to know the city by walking through it at unusual hours, taking routes I did not need to take, and occasionally realizing that I have spent an entire evening somewhere simply because I did not want to go home yet.

That is a very different way of knowing a place than simply knowing how to get from your apartment to class.

And then there is Morocco.

I am currently writing this from Rabat, which is probably the clearest evidence that something has changed.

I came here to study Arabic, but living here has become much more than a language program. I have been learning Darija, living with a Moroccan host family, exploring the Medina, traveling around the country, and finding myself in situations where I have to figure things out as I go.

There have been plenty of moments when I have had absolutely no idea what someone was saying to me. There have also been moments when I realized I had just had an entire conversation in Arabic without thinking about it.

Both feel like progress.

I have traveled with friends, gone places I had never seen, and said yes to plans simply because they sounded interesting. There was a version of me who would have thought very carefully about whether an experience was practical, predictable, or within my comfort zone.

I still think carefully.

I just do not always let that stop me anymore.

There is something valuable about realizing that you can figure things out as you go.

Still Becoming

What I like most about Lillian's observation is that none of the things she mentioned feel like I became a completely different person.

I am still the person who loves history and ideas. I am still ambitious. I still overthink things. I still care a lot about getting things right.

But the edges have softened.

I am more comfortable with people. More curious about experiences I cannot predict. More willing to follow an interest simply because it interests me. More confident in my ability to communicate what I think.

And I think I have become more comfortable not knowing exactly what comes next.

That may be the biggest change.

When I arrived at college, I thought a lot about where I was going. Now I spend more time paying attention to where I am.

Sometimes that means sitting at the DACOR House late into the evening talking to people I barely knew when the night started. Sometimes it means writing in a corner of Washington I had never noticed before. Sometimes it means mentoring someone who reminds me of myself a few years ago. Sometimes it means getting on a plane and ending up in Morocco.

And sometimes it means saying yes to something without really knowing why.

When I think back to the person who arrived at college, I recognize him. I just don't think he would recognize all of the places I have ended up.

Maybe that is what growing up actually looks like.

Not becoming someone completely new, but taking the person you already are and giving him more room to grow.

Thank you Fred for sharing your story. Our stories, our human stories, have the power to transform ourselves and others. That is what Champions do!

Fred recorded this video in February 2026, following the second 35Champions leadership retreat, held in Miami.