Part of the Voice I Almost Lost – Blog #31
by Alana Pierre Curry
When I think about the work that has shaped me most, one truth stands above all: it has never been about glory. It has always been about the mission. The people. The purpose that pulled us together when the days were long and the needs were great. The work that matters is rarely loud—it happens quietly, among teams who show up because the mission calls, not because recognition waits at the finish line.
Thinking back on the years I spent leading a team devoted to connecting families to food assistance, I remember the long days, the creative problem-solving, the phone calls that never seemed to end, and the deep sense of purpose that carried us through it all. We didn’t show up for recognition. We showed up because people needed us. Because neighbors were hungry, and help was needed.
I did not focus on internal data comparing outreach efforts across food banks. I wasn’t tracking it, analyzing it, or trying to compete with anyone. We were simply doing the work—building partnerships, training assisters, hosting community events, and connecting people to benefits that could change their lives.
At some point, someone mentioned that our program was among the top in the country. I appreciated the recognition but didn’t focus on it then. It wasn’t until recently that I came across the data confirming that we had ranked #1 and #2 nationally during my leadership.
Even now, saying that out loud doesn’t feel like something to boast about. It feels like something to honor—with humility and gratitude. That success wasn’t mine alone. It belonged to the team, the partners, and the countless individuals who believed in what we were building.
It truly takes a village, and they know who they are.
That experience taught me something I will never forget: when you are called to serve, there is no room for ego. There is no room for chasing credit or guarding best practices as if they are secrets to protect. True service is about replication—sharing what works so others can serve well, too.
There is a difference between leading for the spotlight and leading for impact: one centers on who gets the glory, the other on who gets the help.
I have learned that staying mission-centered takes discipline. Recognition can be meaningful, but it should never outweigh purpose. The strongest teams I have seen are those that remain focused on the work itself, refusing to let ego or competition pull them away from why they started in the first place.
When ego takes over, collaboration dies.
But when service leads, purpose lives.
The best leaders I know don’t hoard success—they multiply it. They share the lessons, the templates, the processes, and the relationships that made their work possible. They replicate the good so others can carry it further.
That’s what legacy really is. It’s not the name in the headline or the award on the shelf. It’s the ripple that continues long after you’re gone—the systems that keep working, the partnerships that keep thriving, the people who keep believing.
When I look back now, I realize that the greatest measure of leadership isn’t where we ranked—it’s how we served.
It’s the families that got approved for benefits because of a conversation we started.
It’s the assisters who grew more confident because of the trainings we offered.
It’s the communities that became stronger because we showed up and shared what worked.
So no, we didn’t do the work for glory. We did it for the mission.
And that’s the kind of work that lasts.