Yes, I Get It From My Mother.

On Legacy, Leadership, and the Branch That Connected Me to My Purpose.

There are moments in life that invite you to pause—not because something unexpected happened, but because something so deeply rooted has bloomed once again.

Watching my mother, Dr. Doris McEwen, be elected President of the South Bend Alumnae Chapter of Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Inc. for the 2026–2028 biennium was one of those moments. People congratulated her.

I quietly thanked God.

Not because I was surprised.

Because I have spent my entire life watching this exact woman become exactly who she has always been.

This presidency isn’t a new chapter in her story.

It’s another page in a book that has never stopped being written.

There is a phrase people often say when they meet me.

“Now I know where you get it from.”

They’re right.

I do get it from my mother.

The leadership.

The service.

The scholarship.

The faith.

The impossible desire to keep showing up for people—even when they don’t show up for you.

I get it from her.

It isn’t something I learned from a workshop.

It isn’t a leadership certification.

It isn’t a title.

It is embedded in my DNA.

Being a Delta legacy is an interesting experience.

There are people who celebrate it.

There are others who criticize it.

I’ve heard the assumptions over the years—that legacies somehow have an easier road, receive special treatment, or cannot possibly understand what it means to earn their place.

I’ve learned not to respond with defensiveness.

I’ve learned to respond with empathy.

Because everyone isn’t born into the same story.

Everyone doesn’t understand what it means to be raised by a woman whose life has always belonged to service.

Not performative service.

Sacrificial service.

The kind that continues long after applause has faded.

The kind that never required recognition because recognition was never the goal.

Purpose was.

Before she was “Mom,” she was already making history.

She became a charter member of the Zeta Kappa Chapter at Northern Michigan University, eventually serving as chapter president.

Imagine the late 1960s.

Imagine being a young Black woman navigating higher education, racism, sexism, segregation’s lingering shadows, and an intake process that looked nothing like the one we know in 2026.

Those women weren’t simply becoming members of Delta Sigma Theta.

They were surviving history while writing it.

My mother’s line sisters—my Delta moms—walked through fires many of us can only read about.

The heartbreaking reality is that many of the very injustices they confronted decades ago still exist today.

Different language.

Different headlines.

Same systems.

Yet they persisted.

As Delta women always have.

My mother’s Delta journey carried her across every corner of the country as well as abroad.

Seven presidencies.

Leadership in the Midwest.

Leadership in the Farwest.

Social Action, Service and leadership within chapters in the Southern and Eastern Region.

And let's not forget, with characteristic humility, she served as National Secretary of Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Inc. from 2002 to 2006.

That résumé alone would satisfy most people.

Not my mother.

Because leadership was never about climbing.

It was always about serving.

While serving as National Secretary, she authored Sisterly Yours (2005)—the original writing guide that established communication standards for the organization.

Not because someone asked her to create a legacy.

Because excellence mattered.

Because details mattered.

Because sisterhood deserved excellence.

She also authored Hear Now Their Stories, a historical tribute honoring the Regional Directors of the Farwest Region.

That project wasn’t listed in her job description.

It wasn’t assigned.

It wasn’t required.

It simply lived in her heart.

That’s who she is.

When something matters…

…she preserves it.

When people matter…

…she honors them.

And somehow…

That is only one part of her life.

Professionally, she continued doing what trailblazers do.

She became the first Black female principal at East Lansing High School.

Then became the first Black female superintendent in the state of Washington.

She imagined and designed Oregon’s Equity Lens—a framework that continues shaping educational decision-making across the state today.

Again…

Not because history was the objective.

Equity was.

Students were.

Children were.

Communities were.

History simply followed.

Sometimes people ask why leadership seems so natural to me.

How could it not?

What else was I supposed to see growing up?

I watched leadership at the breakfast table.

I watched service after church.

I watched scholarship in every book that covered our home.

I watched community meetings.

School board conversations.

Sorority work.

Church work.

Family work.

People work.

Helping wasn’t an event.

It was Tuesday.

Leadership wasn’t something my mother turned on.

It was who she was when no one was watching.

She didn’t become extraordinary because people were looking.

People looked because she had quietly spent decades becoming extraordinary.

The greatest lesson she ever taught me wasn’t how to lead.

It was how to love.

I’ve watched her forgive things that would have broken many people.

Unsisterly acts.

Professional betrayals.

Personal disappointments.

Moments that would have justified bitterness.

Yet somehow…

She always chose purpose over pettiness.

Faith over fear.

Grace over revenge.

I still don’t know how she does it.

Perhaps because she doesn’t lead from ego.

She leads from God.

That has always been her compass.

Not popularity.

Not applause.

Not position.

Purpose.

Even now, after an extraordinary professional career, she still finds ways to pour into the world.

Today, you’ll often find her reading beautifully illustrated children’s storybooks—many written by authors across the Black diaspora—through her YouTube channel.

Because stories matter.

Representation matters.

Children matter.

She also recently accepted another opportunity to serve, joining the City of South Bend Utilities Committee, where she was sworn in this past March.

Retirement didn’t retire her heart.

Because service was never her occupation.

It is her identity.

When I think about legacy, I don’t think about awards.

I think about inheritance.

Not the kind left in bank accounts.

The kind left in character.

The kind woven into DNA.

The kind passed from generation to generation without words.

The kind that quietly whispers…

“This is who we are.”

I often tell people that my mother is my superhero.

Not because she has lived a perfect life.

But because she has lived a purposeful one.

She taught me that leadership is less about standing in front of people and more about standing beside them.

She taught me that scholarship is a lifelong commitment.

That sisterhood is something you practice—not simply wear.

That service is love in motion.

Mom ❤️

Thank you.

Thank you for being the branch that connects me to the very best parts of who you are.

Thank you for teaching me faith by living faithfully.

Thank you for showing me unconditional love instead of simply defining it.

Thank you for proving that humility and excellence can coexist.

Thank you for reminding me that leadership begins long before anyone hands you a title.

Thank you for lovingly reminding me the humility is the cornerstone of leadership.

Thank you for loving our family so fiercely

For loving Fred and his family.

For loving Cheo and me.

For loving your Delta sisters.

For loving your friends.

For loving South Bend.

For loving people who may never fully understand how much of yourself you’ve given away in hopes of making someone else’s life just a little better.

Congratulations, Madam President.

I know this chapter is already blessed because the Author has always been leading your story.

And if people ever wonder where my heart for service comes from…

I can smile and answer without hesitation.

Yes.

I get it from my mother.

With immeasurable love and gratitude,

Maleika René ❤️🤍