Park Perspective: Escaping and returning
Guy-Lee King, MBA ’26 outside of Sage Hall during Cornell’s Welcome Week.
“Hey y’all!” “How you doing, baby?” “Yes, ma’am.” “No, sir.”
These are phrases I know too well, and they are surrounding me as I sit at my favorite coffee shop, looking out into the city that raised me. The sun is shining, and the temperature is 57 degrees on this mid-December day. It feels good to be back home in Jackson, Mississippi. The local sketches of Barack Obama, Malcolm X, Tupac, and Biggie Smalls hanging on the walls stare at me, and I continue staring back, reflecting on my first semester at Samuel Curtis Johnson Graduate School of Management at Cornell University. What a ride it has been—with many twists and turns, highs and lows. Whenever I attend school and people ask me how it’s going, I would only talk about the positives and accomplishments the semester brought me. But, as Laura Georgianna—executive director of Leadership Programs and the Donald F. Douglas Director of the Roy H. Park Leadership Fellows Program—often reminds me, there’s beauty in talking about the challenges and the lessons that can be gained from them.
Escapism and realization
This semester, my grandmother was rushed to the hospital and underwent emergency surgery. Weeks later, my mother was also admitted to the hospital. The week of Thanksgiving, I found out that one of my aunts—who always supported me growing up—had passed away. I sat in silence, reminding myself that one of the skills I wanted to continue building was managing my emotions. My personal home life, combined with the rigor of Johnson School’s core curriculum, began to take a toll on me. I continued to overextend myself in service to our community and my classmates to escape what was actually going on in my life. I became a pro at escapism, but it came at a price. Suddenly, I found myself becoming impatient and irritable, with my frustrations intensifying internally. Still, I sat in silence. I had a job to do. I’m a Black man from Mississippi, blessed with the incredible opportunity of being a Park Fellow—there’s no room for mistakes. I have to be in service to the Johnson School community as much as I can. I can’t show weakness. There’s no time for rest or vulnerability. These were the things I began to internalize—until I got a text from my younger sister that froze me: “You need to come home. I can’t continue doing this by myself.”
I’m no stranger to family illnesses. I’ve been a caretaker for my mother since high school, but reading that message from my younger sister created one deep feeling: guilt. Guilt for being at this Ivy League institution surrounded by intelligent individuals while my sister sacrificed her own personal wants to take care of our mother. I broke down. There was no more running from my emotions. No more attempting to hold it together. I needed to be real with myself and with those around me.
The discomfort of being vulnerable
As our Park ’26 cohort sat in a Wednesday morning session with Laura, we discussed conflict and dialogue around conflict. We were tasked with completing a survey to identify our top five approaches to conflict. Timely, right? Laura stood from her chair, grabbed a stack of papers, and walked around the circle of eager first-years, distributing our results. I thanked her as she gave me my packet. I opened it and saw avoidance and compromise in the 80th percentile.
I turned to my friend Luis and said, “This tracks.” He replied, “I wouldn’t have expected those for you.” I looked off to the wall, thinking about the message my sister sent me. I knew it was true. I’ve been a big avoider. Laura sat down with a peaceful, calm demeanor and asked us to review our results in silence for about six minutes before posing the question, “Did anything stand out to anyone?”
As my classmates gave their perspectives on the words on the pages, I joined the conversation, informing the group about the personal things happening in my life and how I had been avoiding them, sitting within the walls of Cornell, overwhelmed with guilt. Our cohort was beyond encouraging, offering hugs, messages, and words of support. It was incredibly nice and showcased the community we’ve built, but I still felt so uncomfortable. I’m not used to needing support from others.
Getting over the discomfort
Later that day, I ran into my buddy and fellow Parkie, Luis, in Sage Hall. He asked if I was heading back to our apartment complex. I replied, “Yes,” and he asked me to wait for him. As we approached one of the gorges on our walk home, Luis turned to me and said, “I know you, and I know you don’t like talking about personal things impacting you, but I want you to know I heard you.” I told him how much I appreciated his friendship.
Soon after, another Parkie I’m close with, Andrew, reached out to ask how I was holding up and if I wanted to talk. I told him I was doing good and just wanted to focus on getting ready for finals. We went on to talk about how we planned to prepare for exams. That night, I sat in bed thinking about all the support our Park community offered me, and I told myself to start being vulnerable with them and lean on them when I need to.
Moving forward
The semester is over, and we just finished taking our Business Strategy final exam virtually. Andrew headed back home a day earlier, while I stuck around Ithaca for two extra days to prepare to leave for the break. I texted him before the exam to tell him I’d started reflecting on the semester and that there were mistakes I made but also lessons to be gained. He called me after the exam, and we talked about what we’d learned about ourselves throughout the core. We discussed not only insights from our experiences but also actions we can take to build on those lessons.
I told him that moving forward, I want to build deep relationships with members of our community who have poured into me and start being vulnerable and open on personal levels, outside of the usual two conversation starters: “What are you recruiting for?” and, “How’s recruiting going?” I asked him to hold me accountable to this, and he replied, “I got you, brother.”
Looking back on the semester, I continue to be so grateful to be a part of the Park community. The program has brought me friends, lessons, healing, and a journey that’s just beginning to shape me into the leader I’m meant to be.
About the author
Guy-Lee King is a first-year MBA student at the Johnson School. Prior to business school, he was an external communications manager at DRW Holdings in Chicago. King is a skilled communications professional with more than seven years of experience. He has counseled Fortune 500 companies such as Airbnb, Microsoft, Citi, and BlackRock on brand activations, thought leadership campaigns, media relations, public affairs, and crisis communications. King also has a background in public affairs and political communications, spearheading communications for various members of Congress and political leaders. He is a Roy H. Park Leadership Fellow pursuing a career pivot to brand management and marketing.