A World of Ego—What About Our Vocation?

(Photo/TIMOTHY A. CLARY/AFP/Getty Images)

By Grace Rector

I leaned in towards the TV showing mayor-elect Zohran Mamdani delivering his victory speech. Beside me sat the owners and friends of a local Ethiopian restaurant, equally eager to see what Zohran had to say. “Thank you,” Zohran boomed, “to those so often forgotten by the politics of our city, who made this movement their own. I speak of Yemeni bodega owners and Mexican abuelas. Senegalese taxi drivers and Uzbek nurses. Trinidadian line cooks and . . . Ethiopian aunties.”

“Did he just say Ethiopian aunties!?” yelled the Ethiopian bartender excitedly.

“Yes, aunties.” Zohran continued as if in conversation with the man directly. “To every New Yorker in Kensington and Midwood and Hunts Point, know this: This city is your city, and this democracy is yours too.”

Amidst the election of Zohran as mayor of New York City, I wondered if this victory signaled a shift toward mission-oriented leadership and away from individualism. The election brought me back to a community-centered version of myself and reawakened my belief in impossible things. It reminded me why I came to graduate school before ambition and ego got in the way. 

Sometimes things happen that I can’t explain except through divine timing. Whether it was Zohran’s win or bumping into him on my mom’s birthday the next day, I felt a reconnection with God. Growing up with a very religious mom, I had strong faith, but as I grew older, I drifted away from religion because it felt hierarchical and inflexible. After she passed, faith became something I avoided — it made me miss her. 

Recently, a mentor invited me to read The Tears of Things: Prophetic Wisdom for an Age of Outrage (2025) by Richard Rohr, a Franciscan priest known for his contemplative spirituality and emphasis on "alternative orthodoxy." I expected to resist it, but then I read “prophets serve as ‘exciters’ of the critical mass, always wise beyond their years and living by higher values that are foreign to their contemporaries. They seem to lead just by living their lives and do not need any honorific titles . . . after their names.”

Something clicked. What I heard in that restaurant, the shock, the gratitude, the role of Zohran in “excit[ing] of the critical mass,” was the same call Rohr was describing: a return to humility and service rather than prestige. Zohran, in many ways, is an “exciter of the critical mass,” challenging accepted injustices of New York City by staying close to people’s lived realities. Seeing a public figure center the voices of those usually ignored cracked something open in me. It echoed Rohr’s invitation to listen for the people whose leadership isn’t driven by titles.

Graduate school pushes us to think about our future career, the type of company we’d like to work for, and our desires, but what about what the world needs? As Rohr notes, “The normal power systems of our world worship themselves and not God . . . For that reason, prophets almost never hold official positions, like that of a king, priest, or elder.”  However, in my world at SIPA, we’re constantly reaching towards official positions and many lose sight of bigger things, like God. Most of us came to SIPA to serve the world, yet the longer we are here, the easier it becomes to lose sight of that initial conviction.  

I came to SIPA to learn about international education development, but I have felt increasingly pushed to find a different path in the private sector. Many panels and networking events around campus instill a sense of pressure to be the CEO or head of an organization. There's a big push towards certain sectors like finance and renewables, and many students feel like they have no other worthwhile option.

The scarcity mindset is everywhere. In the hallways, I hear my peers complaining that they haven’t eaten all day from too much stress about finding a job or an upcoming internship application deadline. Twitches of panic surface when someone else gets hired, and quiet dread looms when we’re further behind on an assignment than our classmate. The anxiety from ambition to be the best lingers in the air. 

Reading Rohr offered some answers to these anxieties. He explains, “We must let God circumcise both our ears and our hearts so that we can hear the [truth tellers] fully. They are not seeking fame or fortune, or they would not be prophets… But it is their message that they care about, not their reputation or their comfort.” Intentionality might alleviate the anxiety we often collectively feel in this fast-paced world. It's the message — to our own selves — that matters.

Zohran’s victory marked both a political shift and a personal shift in what leadership rooted in service can look like. And as I walk through SIPA’s halls, where conversations so often revolve around titles, salaries, and the next fellowship, I’ve started asking myself different questions: what do I want to bring into the world, with or without a prestigious job attached to it? What was the original vocation that pulled me into this work before the pressure to perform drowned it out?

If you’re reading this as a SIPA student, here’s my invitation: take one hour this week and sit with the version of yourself who applied here before recruiting season, before you learned the names of the “right” employers, before you felt the tug of ego. Ask yourself, ‘How can I be of service?’ instead of ‘What job do I want?’ Write down the message you want to carry, the people you want to serve, and the kind of leader you hope to be.

Zohran’s win reminded me that this city belongs to the people who keep showing up with humility and courage. Maybe our careers should, too.