Image Description: Illustration of a person with dark brown skin, wearing a pink shirt and red shorts, sitting on large green leaves beside oversized white flowers, against a soft blue sky with clouds. By Owl Illustration Agency.
In 2020, the world had shut down, and George Floyd’s murder had sparked a global “racial reckoning.” Nonprofit organizations rushed to release statements about racial justice, boards scrambled to diversify their leadership, and suddenly, Black and brown women were being elevated into executive director and CEO roles at an unprecedented rate.
But behind the public commitments and DEI statements was a different story. These newly appointed leaders were calling IISC, exhausted and isolated, because they were inheriting organizations deeply embedded in racism, with fragile budgets and boards that didn’t understand or trust their leadership styles. They were expected to repair harm, transform systems, and lead boldly – all while navigating inadequate resources and limited support. Our movements cannot survive without these leaders, and yet far too many were and still are leaving.
Inside IISC, a group of Black and brown women began talking and recognized what was happening. These leaders didn’t need another technical training; rather, they needed space to exhale, to speak honestly, to be affirmed rather than questioned. They needed room to reset, reflect, and rebuild confidence in who they already were.
Out of those conversations, the first cohort was born. And today, that work continues as Gathering to Rise, now open to Black, Indigenous, Latine, Arab, Middle Eastern, North African, Asian, and Pacific Islander women and gender-expansive leaders.
Building Space During Hard Times
Beginning in 2020, IISC launched a leadership cohort specifically for women of color executive directors and CEOs, made possible through partnerships with the Boston Foundation and Boston Women’s Fund. Across three cohorts through 2023, 45 women of color leaders participated in two online cohorts during the pandemic and one in-person.
Facilitated by Kelly Frances Bates and Aba Taylor, and enriched with coaching from IISC affiliates Adeola Oredola, Eugenia Acuña, Andrea Nagel, and nisha purushotham, the program was intentionally designed to be different from traditional leadership development. Participants weren’t expected to perform professionalism or leave parts of themselves behind; instead, space was created for humanity, honesty, and rest. Leaders gathered in ways that felt embodied and relational, sharing openly about what leadership was costing them and what it was offering them.
Through a blend of coaching, online and in-person cohort sessions, and small “sister pods” for deeper connection, the program explicitly affirmed culturally grounded leadership styles rather than pressuring participants to conform to dominant norms. Leaders spoke about growing confidence and power, setting boundaries, and feeling less alone than they had in years. One participant shared that the program had saved their life during a period of intense stress.
At the time, there were very few programs designed specifically for BIPOC women leaders through a liberatory lens. Applications exceeded capacity in every cohort.
Where the early cohorts asked how leaders could sustain themselves before burnout set in, today’s context feels different. Many leaders are already carrying years of accumulated exhaustion, so the question has shifted to: how do we recover, reconnect, and continue without losing ourselves?
Carrying the Lineage Forward
Gathering to Rise is not a replica of the original cohorts; it’s shaped by this moment while maintaining clear continuity. Adeola Oredola and nisha purushotham, who served as coaches and advisors to the original pilots, are now stewarding this next chapter, bringing deep connection to the lineage of care and relational leadership that defined the early programs. C. Payal Sharma, an IISC Affiliate Consultant/Trainer, and Amy Casso, a Senior Associate at IISC, were also integral to iterating and evolving the offering, helping ensure it remains responsive, grounded, and true to its purpose.
The current cohort expands the original vision, now welcoming Black, Indigenous, Latine, Arab, Middle Eastern, North African, Asian, and Pacific Islander women and gender-expansive leaders. We’re carrying forward: a space centered on care rather than performance, the integration of personal and leadership transformation, coaching as a core element, community over competition, the affirmation of culturally grounded leadership styles, and an honest space for grief, joy, exhaustion, and imagination.
This current version also responds directly to where we are now, centering ancestral wisdom, radical imagination, liberatory practice, and collective leadership at a time when old systems are unraveling.
It’s intentionally built first for an online experience – a choice rooted in access. Online participation allows caregivers, parents, people with disabilities, leaders with limited travel budgets, and those balancing demanding workloads to engage fully.
An Ongoing Commitment
This work has always been grounded in real need. We’re continuing because when leaders are supported in culturally grounded, relational, and affirming spaces, they’re more likely to stay connected to their work, communities, and sense of purpose. Rather than trying to preserve a program, we’re trying to keep our people going.
Gathering to Rise stands on the shoulders of what came before. It carries forward a simple intention: to help leaders reconnect with their gifts, strengthen their capacity to navigate change, and ensure that those who carry so much for our movements don’t have to carry it alone.
If you’re interested in learning more or being notified about future cohorts, please sign up for updates. If you’re a funder, partner, or ally, we welcome conversations about how we might collectively sustain and expand spaces like this over the long term. Get in touch with us.
Notes from Race Forward’s Just Narratives for Multiracial Solidarity 2025
Image Description: An illustration of a person with brown skin and long dark hair against a yellow background. A cloud-filled sky bursts through the middle of their face as if the space is torn open, revealing blue sky and white swirling clouds bordered by black night sky with stars. By Mariana Cuesta via Unsplash.
Years ago, in my first nonprofit communications role, a colleague asked me why I was shaping my work around what the system allowed (what I thought was “realistic”), instead of imagining a system that actually served us. That question changed everything for me.
At Race Forward’s Just Narratives for Multiracial Solidarity 2025, it felt like the whole convening was grappling with that same tension: What possibilities are we leaving behind because we’ve accepted the limits we were handed? If harmful systems were imagined into existence, what could happen if imagined something better?
Throughout panels, performances, research sessions, and even late-night conversations, imagination wasn’t framed as a soft skill. It was treated as political power, and one we need to take seriously if we want to build something better.
Imagination is the Starting Point
The opening panel reminded us that pointing out what’s broken is only step one. Movements can’t grow without a shared picture of what comes next. Fear can ignite urgency, but it rarely sustains people. It shrinks our sense of who belongs and narrows what feels achievable.
Hope, on the other hand, builds the kind of community that lasts. It expands our sense of belonging, creates room for collaboration, strengthens trust, and helps people stay in the work through long periods of uncertainty. And choosing hope doesn’t mean we just ignore the compounding crises we’re in – it means recognizing that hope requires action, discipline, and a willingness to stick with the work even when progress is slow.
Monica Roa from Puentes put it plainly: “The world is indeed shit, and we can choose to compost it together.” The circumstances are tough, but we are not powerless. And if harmful systems were imagined into existence, then new systems can also be imagined.
Later, a Palestinian dabke performance from Canaan Wellspring reinforced that imagination can also be embodied. Culture, rhythm, and collective movement are forms of political storytelling.
Nikko Viquiera from Race Forward added a grounding point: imagination without action is just delusion. Naming and posting aren’t enough – dreams require steps.
Infrastructure Shapes What Imagination Can Actually Do
Rinku Sen from Narrative Initiative grounded the conversation by discussing infrastructure – not in an abstract policy sense, but in terms of what allows imagination to become reality. We at IISC wrote about the importance of infrastructure a few months ago here. Infrastructure is not only organizations or reports. It’s people’s stories, their capacity, their confidence, their relationships. It’s whether everyday people (not only professionals) have what they need to share narratives that matter.
Jennifer Ng’andu from the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation added that infrastructure also includes trust, support for leaders who are under-resourced or targeted, and the relational glue that keeps movements going.
Anna Castro from the Transgender Law Center reminded us that infrastructure isn’t just the bones, it’s the joints. It’s what makes movement possible. And she pointed out that the South has been living with disinvestment long before national headlines caught up. Southern organizers have had to imagine new solutions out of necessity, and there’s a lot to learn from that.
Together, these points made something clear: imagination is powerful, but it needs structure. Without infrastructure, imagination never makes it off the page.
The Hope Gap: When People Support Change but Don’t Believe It’s Possible
One of the clearest connections between imagination and political power came from folks I deeply admire: the BLIS Collective. Their workshop introduced the Hope Gap, the distance between what people support and what they believe is achievable.
Their research shows major gaps in belief:
76% of Black Americans support reparations, but only 21.5% believe it can realistically happen.
80% of Indigenous people support Land Back, but only 19% believe it’s possible.
This pattern extends across many bold policies. People want transformative solutions, but decades of disinvestment, backlash, and political messaging have convinced many that big changes are unrealistic. When people don’t believe change is possible, they disengage or lower their expectations. The Hope Gap isn’t just a barrier to action, but a crisis in political imagination.
The BLIS research is ongoing, so instead of presenting final answers, their workshop taught us how to identify Hope Gaps in our own issue areas. We worked collectively to explore narratives that invite participation rather than resignation.
My biggest takeaway was this: we don’t have to start from scratch. We can learn from what already exists. We can amplify the wins, from reparations efforts to LandBack victories, so they feel possible, repeatable, and real. When we lift up these examples, we normalize the idea that what we imagine together can take root.
Imagination Grows Through Community
Outside the formal sessions, the theme of imagination showed up again in the way people gathered. I spent time tending to old and new relationships, eating and dancing together, laughing through a spontaneous mini-makeover session. At one point, nearly everyone said some version of, “This is why we come.”
These moments truly were the heart of the gathering. They confirmed that narrative work, hope-building, and movement strategy grow through connection, the kind you build by showing up, sharing space, and remembering that people are the reason this work moves at all.
ALOK’s Call to Choose Humanity Over Convention
ALOK Vaid-Menon’s brilliant keynote tied the theme together. They asked why our sector continues to choose convention over humanity. They reminded the audience that our values come from the people who have held and supported us through our lives.
Their central point was that all justice work is connected. Trans justice, racial justice, climate justice, gender justice, disability justice – these are not separate fights. When we act like they are, we weaken all of them. And there are systems intentionally built to keep them separate.
ALOK also named the funder-industrial complex’s role in encouraging fragmentation, but insisted that collaboration is where our movements gain power. We shouldn’t need to justify why justice movements are linked. We should care because people matter.
What I’m Taking With Me
Imagination is political power
Action gives imagination meaning
Infrastructure makes imagination possible
Relationships make imagination sustainable
Hope must be intentionally built, protected, and nurtured
It is not enough to critique the systems we live in. Just like we need better messaging, we also need better imagination to actively build alternatives. And we need the conditions that allow people to believe in what they already want for the world. If fear built the systems we’re fighting, imagination can replace them.
Take a moment to ask yourself and your team:
What possibilities have we dismissed because we assumed they weren’t realistic?
Start naming them, imagining them, and then start building the infrastructure that makes them real.
Image Description: An illustration of Earth surrounded by an explosion of colorful, stylized foliage and flowers. The continents are marked with small red hearts, and the colorful leaves and petals radiate outward in all directions against a black background. By Getty Images via Unsplash+.
There’s a quiet revolution underway. You can see it in church gatherings and small-town meetings, on Zoom calls between elders and young organizers, in community art projects, healing circles, and protest planning sessions.
Across the country, IISC has had the deep honor of supporting and witnessing this movement: the call for food justice in Mississippi, the fight for immigrant rights in Florida, and unincorporated towns in California’s Central Valley organizing and standing against corporate land grabs with the memory of ancestors alive in their bones.
This June marked 32 years since IISC was founded to build collaborative capacity for social change. As we reflect on more than three decades of work, we are clear that real transformation is rooted in the relationships, strategies, and structures that make long-term change possible.
This is what power-building looks like – not only marching or resisting, but reimagining how we live, lead, and make decisions together.
We’re living in a moment full of pressure and possibility, where movement leaders are not only responding to harm but also building blueprints for belonging, designing ecosystems of mutual care, shaping decision-making structures that reflect their values, and challenging the status quo about who leads, who benefits, and who gets to be fully seen.
And in the background, behind the chants and policies, something quieter (and often invisible) is also happening: Movements are collaborating in deeper, more intentional ways. And we are helping to seed and shape that work together.
Power Building Is Infrastructure Work As capacity builders, we’ve learned that what sustains movements isn’t just energy or the rightness of the cause – it’s the infrastructure that doesn’t always show up on a stage, but holds everything in place. While people typically think of “infrastructure” as technology, tools, funding, and flows of information and resources, there is a deep need for relational, human infrastructure and the skills that enable people to make and sustain change together.
Behind every campaign or viral hashtag, there is slow, deliberate work. Networks negotiating values, grassroots leaders navigating conflict and decision-making, and organizers choosing to stay in relationship when things get hard because they know liberation isn’t a solo act.
This is the kind of power that movements are building and that we co-construct with them. Power built through:
Clear strategy rooted in shared values
Equitable decision-making across lines of difference
Leadership that centers collaboration, healing, and shared accountability
Networked action that multiplies impact rather than fragments energy
This kind of infrastructure does not emerge overnight or from passion alone. It takes facilitation, training, culture-building, relationship tending, strategic clarity, and people who are willing to hold space for discomfort, emergence, and transformation. It takes collaborators who understand that the right kind of structure does not limit people; it liberates them to move together toward something more powerful than any of us could hold alone.
Movement Work Is Evolving, and So Must Our Support In this era, the most critical support for power-building groups is not marketing or messaging or a one-time DEI workshop – it is long-term, trust-based relationships coupled with visionary strategy that build the muscle of collaboration, collective care, and self-governance. It is support that meets movement leaders where they are, with tools that are grounded in deep equity, shaped by experience, and designed not just to help organizations “function” but to help them thrive in alignment with their purpose and people.
This is the kind of capacity-building work we at IISC and many peers in the practitioner ecosystem are committed to:
Facilitation that invites truth and transformation
Strategy development that is relational, emergent, and rooted in values
Cohort design that cultivates brave space
Network weaving that strengthens interdependence
At its core, this work is about building the capacity for collective liberation, and doing so in ways that reflect the values and visions of the people who are most impacted.
Deep Investment and Choice We are witnessing a moment of both resurgence and retaliation in the U.S. and globally. While movement leaders dream and deliver bold new futures, political parties and their supporters are doubling down on repression. And yet, movement leaders keep showing up. They keep convening. They keep trying to do the impossible: imagine a future where everyone can thrive and build together toward that day while under attack.
What would it look like if we, as capacity-builders, met their courage with our own?
What if philanthropy prioritized sustained infrastructure for movements instead of short-term wins?
What if intermediaries slowed down to listen deeply and moved at the pace of trust instead of deliverables?
What if everyone pursuing justice understood that strategy, facilitation, and organizational development are not extras but essential nutrients and foundation for the long road to justice?
The Invitation If you are building power, thank you. If you are funding frontline power building, consider funding infrastructure as well, to resource the ecosystem as a whole. And if you’re an infrastructure-building organization, be humble, be bold, and be in right relationship with folks who are building power.
Change is already underway. And what grows next will depend on who is willing to hold it with both courage and love.
Image Description: An abstract, vibrant illustration of a light-skinned person with long curly black hair wearing gold earrings, an orange sweater with purple flowers, and bold pants with square patterns in different colors. They are surrounded by giant leaves and flowers. By Alona Savchuk via Unsplash+.
“When the music is strong, the movement is strong.” – Harry Belafonte
In these times when justice is under attack, truth feels fragile, and hope can flicker, it’s culture that keeps us rooted and reaching. As Harry Belafonte reminded us, movements aren’t only built in boardrooms or shaped by policy. They’re born in the heartbeat of community, in the songs we sing, the stories we carry, the rituals we repeat.
Culture is more than expression, it’s resistance. It’s how we remember who we are and imagine what’s possible.
When culture is strong – when art pulses through our organizing, when dance and drums and poetry pour into our protests and planning – our movements for justice are stronger, deeper, more alive. Culture is not decoration. It’s the fire and the fuel.
At IISC, we’re building a living “culture bank”: a collection of music, performances, artwork, and creative expressions that move us and ground us. This is a love letter to the songs that keep us steady, the paintings that call us forward, the practices that tether us to lineage, land, and liberation. Here are some examples:
Staceyann Chin reads The Low Road by Marge Piercy
“This poem by Marge Piercy is a celebration of what is possible when we work and imagine collectively. It acknowledges the strength found not in fleeting moments of glory, but in the consistent, shared labor that builds a better world. It suggests that liberation isn’t a solitary ascent but a collective journey taken together, brick by humble brick, grounded in the profound significance of everyday acts of creation and connection.
Staceyann Chin’s reading emphasizes the power of collective action against oppression and underscores the poem’s central message: while an individual may feel powerless, the impact ripples exponentially when we expand our idea of solidarity.”
Image Description: Illustration of a younger and older woman seated with eyes closed, their long hair flowing together. The older woman reaches out gently, symbolizing ancestral connection. A hummingbird hovers above, with a glowing moon in the background. By Soni López-Chávez.
“As a detribalized Indigenous Mexican, I find deep resonance in the work of Soni López-Chávez, not just in what she creates, but in how and why she creates. Her journey reflects the fragmentation and reclamation so many of us carry: navigating life between nations, languages, and legacies that colonialism tried to sever.
Her art is a bridge across the rift of displacement, an offering, a reclamation, a mirror. Through her work, I see my reflection, a powerful reminder that I am my ancestors’ wildest dreams and that the path of remembrance and reimagining is not only possible but necessary!”
– Shared by Sandra Herrera, IISC Communications & Marketing Manager
“This performance from Usha Jey inspires me to dream, to celebrate fusion, and to remember cross-BIPOC solidarity. As an artist, Usha is so committed to her craft. And as she says, ‘the aim is to keep the essence of each dance and create something that does justice to who I am.'”
We invite you to join us in building this culture bank. What music holds you when the work gets heavy? What art cracks you open and calls you forward? What rituals or rhythms help you remember what you’re fighting for?
Because when the culture is strong, the movement is unstoppable.
Image description: A soft yellow bird perched on a branch adorned with green leaves, flowers, and red cherries, set against a soft sage green background. By BiancaVanDijk via Pixabay.
In March, our team gathered in North Andover, MA, for an in-person retreat – our first in five years. After half a decade of virtual collaboration and navigating global upheavals, coming together in person felt nothing short of revolutionary. And in the age of 47, with political uncertainty and social justice work more critical than ever, the timing could not have been more important.
For many, it was the first time meeting face-to-face. For others, it was a chance to deepen relationships with longtime colleagues and friends. And, because this room was mostly full of seasoned facilitators, you know we spent time reflecting on process, holding space, and (let’s be honest) probably overanalyzing the agendas. Over three days, we didn’t just talk about collaboration and love; we practiced them, in all their beautiful, messy, necessary forms. And perhaps to the surprise of no one, we reaffirmed that the strength of our work is rooted in the strength of our relationships.
A few takeaways from our time together:
Trust Grows in the Big and Small Moments We Share
Building a culture of trust is something that needs to be nurtured again and again through intentional actions and shared experiences. It’s not a bullet point on a strategic plan. Our retreat was designed to help us build trust in ways both big and small, and each activity played a role in strengthening our collective leadership.
Through laughter, tears, storytelling, sharing meals, nature walks, and so much more, we connected for the sake of connection. We engaged in Aikido, a martial art that teaches balance, fluidity, and responsiveness. Through movement, we explored what it means to be in a relationship with one another, practicing how to meet resistance without aggression and how to move in alignment rather than opposition. These lessons are central to how we navigate power, conflict, and change in our daily work.
To meaningfully close out our time together, we stood shoulder to shoulder in a circle and affirmed our commitment to one another as part of the journey ahead. We picked stones that drew us in, their colors and textures calling to us in various ways. Around the circle, each person had a chance to be heard and seen, and to drop our chosen stones into a jar filled to the brim with others. It was quiet, simple, and deeply powerful. We were reminded that while we each have a part, none of us can do this work alone.
Inclusion Is a Verb
Not everyone could physically be in the room, so we needed to ensure that our affiliates who joined virtually weren’t just passive observers but fully engaged participants. That meant:
Projecting their incredible faces as large as we could into the room.
Carrying a mic to each person speaking so remote participants could hear every voice clearly.
Facetiming them into breakout groups so they could participate in real discussions rather than just listening in.
Giving them key roles in in-person activities, including narrating performances and guiding discussions.
Hybrid spaces can easily feel exclusionary, but we worked to make everyone feel like they were part of the collective experience. A helpful reminder here: Inclusion isn’t just about who’s invited but how they are meaningfully included.
We also created “silent tables” during meals, so folks who didn’t feel like being social could have a space to just be. In a field that often prioritizes extroversion and constant engagement, this was a small but meaningful way to honor different needs.
Sometimes You Need to Dance Through the Hard Stuff
If you’ve attended our trainings before, you know it wouldn’t be an IISC space without joy. Yes, we had deep conversations. Yes, we held space for complexity. But there was also movement, play, and celebration. We shared poetry, sang, played board games, and even had a dance party. This work has always been challenging, and we know it will continue to be. And if we don’t make space for joy, movement, and real connection, we won’t last.
Why does this matter? Because social and racial justice work is long-haul work. Burnout and exhaustion are real, particularly for those historically marginalized, and our ability to sustain ourselves depends on how well we tend to joy, connection, and rest. This isn’t a distraction from the work; it literally is the work. A team that trusts one another and knows how to get through the hard stuff together is a team that can face what comes next with more clarity and strength.
Practice Makes…Better
IISC isn’t perfect. No organization is. We make mistakes, we hit rough patches, and we sometimes struggle to live up to our values. But what makes this work possible and what keeps us moving forward is our commitment to love and relationship.
As we return to our day-to-day work, we carry these lessons with us: the power of presence, the necessity of trust, and the radical act of making space for joy. After five years apart, this retreat was a reminder that our culture always needs tending to and that how we show up for one another while doing this important work really matters.
To everyone who made this gathering meaningful, thank you. May we continue to build a stronger ‘we’ and find ways to move forward.
Photo of over 20 IISC staff members at a retreat space in early March.Leave a comment
Make Meetings MatterJoin us on February 5 for a practical and energizing webinar that teaches simple facilitation practices to turn meetings into inclusive, focused conversations that lead to real progress!
