When people consider where leadership originates, they’ll often cite club sports, internships or professional experience.

My response is different.

I was 11 when I got into “Super Smash Bros.” Like many kids, I spent countless hours playing video games with friends after a long school day, battling players on Discord, learning new techniques and trying to improve my overall skill set. To adults, perhaps, I was just a child playing a video game with no bearing on the future.

But then the unexpected happened. The game stopped just being a game and grew into a community.

At just 11 years old, I was the founder of a gaming crew called Reborn Smashers. This wasn’t a business opportunity; I wasn’t using a leadership playbook. And no adults were supervising me. The only plan was this: Bring the community together around a video game we all value.

What started as a small crew of kids connected by a handheld system rapidly evolved into something more significant. We had over 20 members, rival crews and, most importantly, a shared identity. We weren’t just simply playing a game at this point. We were building it into something we never anticipated.

My greatest challenge wasn’t going against rival crews to be at the top. It was maintaining what I built.

As Reborn Smashers grew, so did the responsibilities that came with it. We went against rival crews with names such as Blazing Knights, Reborn Prodigies and Revelations. We arranged “Super Smash Bros.” tournaments through what the Nintendo 3DS community referred to as the Kenny Tourney Server and built a 64-41 record in crew battles. For a community of kids, what we created felt surreal.

Then I made a poor decision.

After getting caught cheating during a crew battle by using members from other gaming crews, I was blacklisted by the 3DS community for a couple of months. My reputation crumbled, and Reborn Smashers was on the verge of disbanding.

I learned what many leaders eventually discover: A community can’t rely only on one person, especially an 11-year-old. Instead of allowing my gaming crew to fall apart, I passed on the ownership to my co-leader, who went under the gamer tag PCNinja. While I was gone, he held the crew down and kept every member united. When I returned, Reborn Smashers was still in great shape.

My experience taught me there are consequences for my actions, and it enlightened me on the importance of trust, accountability and leadership, more so than any school environment I’ve ever been in.

I learned that people don’t stay dedicated to a community automatically. If you want members of a community to stick together, it’s your responsibility to give people a reason to do so. I also learned that disagreements are unavoidable. Among kids, disputes arise. People argue. Emotions get involved. Expectations clash.

I was taught that leadership isn’t about commanding people. It’s about shaping an environment that others want to take part in. Communication, perseverance and decision-making are essential to making communities work.

Most importantly, I learned that growing something is more challenging than joining it. Anyone can join a group. Founding one is a lot different.

As an adult, I see evidence of the traits I developed thanks to “Super Smash Bros.” I witness it in what I write. Drafting an opinion piece, for example, isn’t only about expressing how you think, feel and connect with something. It’s about starting a discussion and fostering unity among those with a similar interest.

I see it in internship and leadership opportunities. The skills people need to build organizations, connections and relationships don’t just show up in adulthood randomly. They grow over time, perhaps in an unexpected setting.

I witness it even in how I perceive community.

We might think leadership starts when someone is given a position, secures a job or earns a degree. But I discovered it starts earlier. It may happen when a child prepares classmates for an upcoming project. It may develop on a basketball court in your neighborhood.

And sometimes, it comes from a Nintendo 3DS.

Video games can be a mechanism for teaching youths the merits of teamwork, communication, competitiveness, perseverance, originality and community engagement. This education doesn’t come from the game alone. It also emerges from the connections developed around it.

At 11 years old, my goal wasn’t to become a leader. I wasn’t focused on communication skills, institutional growth or community involvement. I just wanted to unite people around something I cherished.

That’s when leadership begins. It doesn’t result from a title. Or control. Or appreciation. It begins with an idea and a commitment to persuade others to have faith in it as well.

Many years before internships, college and writing, I learned this in middle school.

I just happened to be holding a Nintendo 3DS at the time.

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Kenneth Okeke is a senior at Trinity College in Hartford, Connecticut, majoring in public policy and law.

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