How Erb Changed My Life: On Honoring Your Roots, Being Flexible, and Welcoming in Serendipity

These remarks were prepared as part of Erb’s 30th Anniversary series, celebrating three decades of impact at the intersection of business and sustainability.

I did everything right. For most of my life, I was the perfect immigrant child.

I remember distinctly telling my parents what I wanted to major in for college. They tried to hide their smirks of pride, even though, to this day, they still don't fully understand what I do for a living. I told them I wanted to be an engineer, and that I would be attending Georgia Tech.

And I followed the path I thought I was supposed to follow.

I moved from Maryland to Atlanta. I found a good job. I worked my way up the corporate ladder. I bought a house. Things were good…on paper. 

What happens when you achieve the life you were told to want and realize you don't want it?

I realized that I had become very successful at building a life I wasn't sure I actually wanted. I knew I needed to do something differently, but I didn't know what. So I did what I knew how to do: I prepared.

I saved what I jokingly called my “FIF”—my "F** It Fund". I spent time in therapy. I gave myself space to think. And at one point, my therapist asked me a question that completely stopped me:

“Is it really an FIF if you never say FI?” In other words: What are you actually waiting for?

That question forced me to get much more honest about what I wanted.

And the answer wasn't simply that I wanted a different job. I wanted to build a life where my skills, my values, and the problems I cared about were actually connected.

That realization led me down a very different path.

I left my job. I started working with urban farmers in Atlanta. I became increasingly interested in food access and the systems that determine who has access to opportunity.

And I realized something that would ultimately lead me to graduate school:

The problem wasn't a lack of ideas. The people I met had ideas and solutions. What they often lacked were resources—people, networks, and especially capital—to turn those ideas into something bigger.

I knew how to manage my own money. I knew how to solve technical problems. I knew how to be a good employee. But I didn't yet know how to navigate the systems and capital necessary to help solve problems at scale.

And that gap became my reason for going to business school and joining Erb.

But here's what I didn't understand when I started this journey: I thought figuring out my why meant figuring out my destination.

I came to graduate school thinking I needed to figure out what I wanted to do. Instead, I discovered how much I didn't know existed. Very quickly, I discovered venture capital and international development careers that had felt too far-fetched.

Sometimes the biggest limitation isn't choosing the wrong path. It's only knowing about the paths you've been exposed to. 

I started thinking about my career a little differently. Maybe we're not supposed to be trees with one predetermined place to grow. Maybe we're more like plants.

A plant's roots tell it a lot about who it is. Its roots anchor it, nourish it, and help it withstand change. But the roots don't determine every environment in which that plant can thrive. My roots were engineering. They were being Nigerian-American. They were being taught to work hard, to learn, to create, to build. But I had mistaken my roots for my destination.

Being unbound doesn't mean being directionless. A plant doesn't grow randomly. It responds to its environment. It reaches toward light. Its roots seek water. Its growth responds to the conditions around it.

And maybe our environments are a little like the climate. The question isn't simply, "Is this opportunity good?" The question is, "Is this environment aligned with what I need to thrive?" Erb changed my climate.

Suddenly, I was surrounded by people thinking about sustainability, investing, entrepreneurship, food systems, economic development—and I realized I had been making career decisions based on the set of possibilities I knew existed.

Sometimes we don't need a better five-year plan. We need a different ecosystem.

And then there are the things we can't plan for—the sunlight that happens to reach us, the rain we didn't expect, the person we happen to meet, the opportunity we almost didn't take. I couldn't have engineered the path that took me from engineering to graduate school to sustainability to venture capital to finance at Nike. In fact, Nike was the engineering dream I thought I had left behind.

But because I stayed rooted in what mattered to me while remaining open to where I could grow, I was able to recognize that opportunity when it came.

We all have our unique stories. If there’s anything you take from me, I hope it’s this:

1. Know your roots: Your values are your anchor. What needs to remain true regardless of what job, industry, city, or opportunity you pursue?

2. Pay attention to your climate: Not every environment is designed for you to thrive. Is this environment aligned with the person you're trying to become?

3. Don’t confuse flexibility with lack of direction: Plants adapt. They don’t abandon their nature. Changing your mind doesn't mean you don't have a plan. Sometimes it means you're paying attention.

You can be deeply intentional about your roots while remaining completely open about where your branches grow. Be rooted in who you are. But remain unbound by the path you thought you'd take to become who you're meant to be.