Last weekend, the LGBT community lost one of its most vibrant spirits, Jaci Adams. Jaci has been described as an activist, as a mentor, as an advocate; all of those monikers point to one truth — Jaci was a leader.
But Jaci wasn’t the type of leader with a fancy title or letters after her name or a big office. She didn’t become a leader for her own gratification; it was solely for the betterment of others — which made her a true leader. Her advocacy on behalf of the LGBT and HIV/AIDS communities was largely rooted in the struggles she’d faced in the past, about which she was fully transparent. That ownership made her wholly relatable to the innumerable people she counseled; and to talk to Jaci was to be counseled by her.
She had lessons to share with everyone — with trans youth who experienced some of the same doubts she had; with police officers who couldn’t understand the challenges the LGBT community faces; with policymakers who needed a push. And her lessons weren’t demurely delivered: She was a frank talker. At Police Liaison Committee meetings, she wasn’t afraid to raise her voice, or when PGN ran a story that she felt wasn’t adequate, she wasn’t afraid to tell us.
And we appreciated that because it led to teaching moments. Jaci had some harsh criticism of one particular story, but followed it up with her phone number, and a smile, so we knew our staff could call her at any time for information or advice. And we took her up on that offer many times; she had eyes and ears on the community at all times and knew the ins and outs of many stories we were working on, especially relating to the trans community. But she didn’t just cull information tangentially; there were cases we covered when a transgender person was attacked, or even killed, and we would call Jaci and she would be sitting with the victim, or the victim’s friends. She was directly involved — when something bad happened, when something good happened — she was there, both on a personal level and a community level.
And, as has been mentioned many times this week, perhaps her greatest strength was her ability to communicate, and communicate effectively, with people of all backgrounds, all experiences and all viewpoints. She didn’t let differences play a role when there was a goal to be achieved, a lesson that could have resounding results for the LGBT community.
The lessons to be learned from Jaci are vast. She showed youth how, and why, to believe in themselves and their futures. She showed community members the value, and products, of giving back to your community. She showed community leaders how to effectively lead — by engaging directly, and genuinely, with their audiences. She showed each person she encountered how they could be their best.
And that is the mark of a true leader.