Beyond the Title: 12 Questions with Yolanda Shelton-Morris

Yolanda Shelton-Morris, MSW

Community Resources Manager & Social Work Professor, City of Madison and UW-Madison School of Social Work

Yolanda Shelton-Morris is a social worker, educator, community leader, and doctoral student with more than 20 years of experience in public service, human services, and community development. Guided by a deep commitment to equity, service, and lifelong learning, her work focuses on strengthening communities, expanding opportunities, and helping people thrive. Yolanda is passionate about authentic leadership, meaningful relationships, and creating spaces where people can show up fully as themselves. She believes in the power of purpose, perseverance, and community to transform lives and create lasting impact.

01Built to Last starts with a strong foundation. What is the foundation your leadership is built on, and how do you return to it when things get shaky?

The foundation of my leadership is rooted in faith, service, relationships, and purpose. I see myself as a servant leader. Leadership isn’t about a title or being in charge; it’s about using my position, voice, and influence to serve others, create opportunities, remove barriers, and support people in their growth. My faith keeps me grounded and reminds me that how I show up for people matters just as much as what I accomplish. When things get shaky, I pray, lean on the people I trust, and reconnect with my why. Staying grounded in my faith, purpose, and commitment to serving others always brings me back to what matters.

02Where do you come from, and how do your roots keep you steady when leadership gets hard?

I come from a legacy of strong Black women, starting with my beautiful mother, who taught me to show up, work hard, serve others, and stand firm in who I am. She and the women who came before me gave me a blueprint for navigating spaces that were not always created with me in mind without losing myself in the process. I carry their wisdom, strength, sacrifices, energy, and culture with me. When leadership gets hard, I return to that blueprint and remember that I never walk into a room alone, I carry generations of Black women, Black people, with me. That legacy keeps me grounded, gives me strength, and reminds me who I am.

03What's a piece of advice that has stood the test of time for you, the kind you still come back to years later?

It’s funny because I have so many sticky notes in my office with different pieces of advice, quotes, scriptures, and little reminders that I’ve collected over the years. Some have been there so long I probably couldn’t even tell you where they came from! But I keep them because at different moments, I find myself looking up and seeing exactly the reminder I need. If there is a common thread among them, it’s to remember who I am and whose I am. Remember who I am, what I value, where I come from, and the people and experiences that helped shape me. And remember whose I am, staying grounded in my faith and trusting that there is purpose even when I can’t always see the full picture. Those little sticky notes have become reminders to keep going, give myself grace, stay grounded, and not lose myself in the midst of everything I’m carrying. Sometimes the advice you need isn’t something new. Sometimes you just need to be reminded of what you already know.

04What's a book, quote, lyric, or scripture that has stayed with you and shaped how you lead or live?

I can’t say I have just one, but two that stick with me are: “Being against the wound is not enough to heal it” and “If I’m not grounded, the world can shake me.” Working in government and within systems that were not always created to serve everyone equitably, these words remind me that recognizing injustice isn’t enough, we have a responsibility to help change it. At the same time, doing that work requires me to stay grounded in my faith, values, purpose, people, and who I am. For me, the two go together: do the work to help heal the wound, but stay grounded enough that the work doesn’t cause you to lose yourself along the way.

05What's something you've had to rebuild after it broke or fell apart, and what did that teach you about building things that last?

I think one of the biggest things I’ve had to rebuild at different points in my life is myself. I’ve learned that rebuilding doesn’t always mean starting over. Sometimes it means recognizing what is still solid, what needs to be repaired, and what you need to let go of. My faith, values, roots, and relationships have remained part of my foundation, even as I’ve had to unlearn, rethink, and rebuild other parts of myself. Building something that lasts doesn’t mean it never breaks; it means the foundation is strong enough to rebuild when it does. And sometimes, you don’t rebuild it the same, you rebuild stronger, wiser, and better prepared for the next season.

06What's one question every leader should ask if they want to build something that outlasts them, and why?

“Who will be able to carry this forward when I’m no longer in the room?”

For me, that question gets at the difference between simply leading something and actually building something that lasts. If everything depends on me being there, making the decisions, holding the relationships, or having all the knowledge, then I haven’t really built something sustainable. Part of servant leadership is making sure I’m not just focused on what I can accomplish while I’m in a position, but on what I am leaving behind. That means sharing knowledge, creating opportunities for others to lead, supporting people in their growth, and building systems and relationships that don’t depend on one person. I want my leadership to leave behind more than a list of things I accomplished. I want to leave people, systems, and spaces stronger than I found them. To me, that is how you build something that can truly outlast you.

07Who are you actively preparing to carry this work forward, and what are you doing to set them up to succeed without you?

I don’t think there is just one person I’m preparing to carry the work forward. As a social work professor, I have the opportunity to pour into future social workers who will make decisions, challenge systems, serve communities, and create change. I encourage them to think critically about power, whose voices are missing, and their responsibility when they recognize inequity. That connects deeply to my work as a doctoral student, where my research focuses on the experiences of Black social work graduates from predominantly White institutions. I want their stories to inform how we teach, mentor, support, and create spaces where Black students can thrive. Ultimately, I hope something I’ve taught, shared, challenged, researched, or modeled continues to have an impact in rooms I may never enter.

08When leadership feels heavy, what do you turn to (music, travel, culture, faith) that restores you and keeps you feeling like yourself?

When leadership feels heavy, I’ve learned that I have to be intentional about finding my way back to joy. Many years ago, during a season when I was experiencing a lot of death and grief in my life, someone said something to me that I have never forgotten: “Joy is not canceled.” That has stayed with me. For me, joy looks like turning on my JAM and letting the music change the whole energy in the room. It looks like traveling, getting away, seeing something new, eating some good food, laughing until my stomach hurts, and just having a chance to exhale. And it definitely looks like being among my people, the people who know me beyond my title, my work, or what I can do for somebody. The people I can simply be Yolanda with. My faith is also a big part of how I restore myself. It reminds me that even when life or leadership feels heavy, I don’t have to carry everything by myself. I think I’ve learned that joy and hard things can exist at the same time. Choosing joy doesn’t mean I’m ignoring what is difficult or pretending that everything is okay. It means I refuse to let the hard things have all of me. So I travel. I turn up my JAM. I laugh. I spend time with my people. I pray. I live. Because no matter how heavy the season gets, I remind myself: joy is not canceled.

09When you think about the legacy you want to leave, what do you hope still stands long after you've moved on?

When I think about legacy, the first thing I think about is my family and my children. Before any title I’ve held, any work I’ve done, or any room I’ve had the opportunity to lead in, I hope that what I’ve poured into my family continues through them. I hope my children carry with them the values that have grounded our family, faith, love, service, hard work, family, and knowing who they are and where they come from. I hope they know that success is not just about what they accomplish for themselves, but also about how they treat people, how they show up for others, and what they leave behind for those coming after them. And one day, if they have families of their own, I hope pieces of what was poured into me, and what I poured into them, continue into the next generation. Beyond my family, I think about what is different because I was there. I hope the people I’ve had the opportunity to lead, teach, mentor, serve, and simply do life with felt seen, supported, challenged, and valued. I hope I helped open doors, remove barriers, create opportunities, and make room for somebody who may not have had that room otherwise. I also hope I leave systems and spaces better than I found them, more equitable, more thoughtful, and more responsive to the people they are supposed to serve. Ultimately, I want my legacy to live in people. My children. My family. My students. The people I’ve led and served. If something I poured into them continues to be poured into somebody else long after I’ve moved on, then to me, that is a legacy built to last.

10What's a small daily habit or discipline that has compounded into something meaningful over time?

Sitting on my porch! It sounds so simple, but it has become one of the most meaningful parts of my day. My husband and I will literally rush home from work just so we can sit on our porch and do...nothing. LOL. And there is something incredibly freeing about that. We sit. We talk. We laugh. Sometimes we listen to music, people-watch, or solve all the world’s problems from that porch. And sometimes we don’t talk about anything important at all. Over time, the porch has become our space to reconnect, exhale, and just be. No titles. No meetings. No deadlines. Nobody needing anything from us. Just us.

And then there’s travel, travel is LIFE for me! I didn’t take my first international trip until 2017. Our youngest son had graduated from high school and gone off to college, we became empty nesters, and suddenly we were entering a completely different season of life. Travel became one of the ways I learned to embrace that season. Since then, traveling has become incredibly meaningful to me. There is something about getting on an airplane, experiencing a different place and culture, meeting people, eating good food, and seeing more of the world that fills me in a completely different way. It reminds me that there is so much life to experience beyond my everyday responsibilities. So yes, during the warmer months, you can find me on my porch. And when that Wisconsin winter hits? I get on that airplane!

11What's a moment in your life where the music playing in the background ended up meaning more than you expected, a song that showed up right when you needed it, or made an ordinary moment stick with you?

I don’t know that I have one specific moment or even one specific song. Music has always been a soundtrack to my life. There are songs that immediately take me back to a particular person, place, season, or memory, sometimes before I even realize what is happening. Music has carried me through grief, celebrated some of my greatest moments, gotten me through some long days, and completely changed my mood when I needed it. Sometimes all it takes is for my jam to come on and suddenly the energy shifts. I’m singing, I’m dancing, and whatever felt heavy five minutes ago doesn’t feel quite as heavy anymore. I think that’s what music has taught me, a moment doesn’t have to be extraordinary to become a memory. Sometimes it’s a song playing while my husband and I are sitting on the porch, something that comes on while I’m traveling, or a song that reminds me of a loved one who is no longer here. And before I know it, that song becomes attached to that moment. Maybe that’s why music means so much to me. It has a way of reminding me where I’ve been, who I was in that season, and sometimes even who I needed to become to make it through. And every now and then, the right song comes on at exactly the right time and reminds me once again, joy is not canceled.

Both have taught me the same thing which is to make space to live. Life cannot always be about what needs to get done or who needs something from you. Sometimes I need to sit on the porch. Sometimes I need to catch the flight. And sometimes I need to give myself permission to simply enjoy the life I’ve worked so hard to build.

12What's a tradition in your life or family that you hope lasts for generations?

One tradition I hope lasts for generations is our family Christmas trips. The idea began in 2021, during a season of significant loss that reminded us how precious time is. In 2022, we took our first international Christmas trip, and it has grown into a beautiful tradition shared with our children, my mom, my sister, and other family members. Watching our children experience the world internationally for the first time and having multiple generations creating memories together has been incredibly meaningful. I love that something so beautiful grew from a difficult season, a reminder that joy is not canceled. My hope is that future generations carry it forward: be together, experience the world, create memories, and choose joy.