Note to readers: This blog is based on IISC’s internal exploration of shared leadership in our organization, our work with clients, and conversations with leadership practitioners in the Knowledge Share Group, a partnership of capacity and infrastructure building organizations around the country. I particularly want to thank Miriam Messinger, Sara Oaklander, Cynthia Silva Parker, and Jasmine Williams of IISC , as well as Shannon Ellis of CompassPoint, for their ideas which sharpened this blog post.
What is shared leadership in nonprofits and philanthropy? And why are some organizations turning to different leadership models to sustain their organization’s work, forge transformative collaboration, and generate powerful intergenerational models of running organizations? IISC and many of our peers in the Knowledge Share Group (1) believe that shared leadership is a better model for the future of the nonprofit sector.
Why Shared Leadership?
Leadership and organizational models that rely on the one executive leader or the senior leadership team for success are not serving our organizations and communities. Leadership concentrated in the hands of a few leaves an organization vulnerable to a number of pitfalls: uninformed decision-making, deep inequities, limited perspectives in strategic direction setting, underutilized and disempowered staff, disruptive executive transitions, and exhaustion for leaders who hold too much responsibility.
We believe executive directors and other senior staff have a choice. They can continue to hold concentrated power and make decisions independently, or they can embrace shared leadership for collective action and responsibility. It is the latter that enables us to most fully live our missions and expand democracy. We must do everything we can to support leadership in all the places it exists in our organizations.
What is Shared Leadership?
Shared leadership is an evolving concept and practice. It’s one of the most compelling options social justice communities are experimenting with to heal our relationships with traditional manifestations of power, authority, and dominance. Based on IISC’s experience and learnings from the Knowledge Share Group, I define shared leadership as the ethos, structures, processes, practices, and behaviors that promote the equitable distribution and decentralization of information, roles, authority, decision-making, and labor.
What are the Key Features of Shared Leadership?
Nonprofits are essentially a network of people, programs, and ideas working together for transformative social outcomes. Shared leadership fuels that network, with more people generating and carrying out ideas for greater impact, and doing so in more equitable ways.
There are are five key features of shared leadership:
All people in the organization are viewed and operate as leaders, mutually accountable to a set of values and practices that are in service of collective goals. They make major decisions together and trust others for the rest.
They are mindful of and attend to the needs of the whole organization and how their work impacts the whole. And they take note of critical organizational gaps and see to it that they are filled. They build redundancies in roles and create back-up plans in the event someone is unavailable to work.
Shared leadership moves away from the notion that the solo leader or executive team has carte blanche to develop and implement solutions to problems in an organization. And instead moves toward a model that centers decentralization and multiracial and multigenerational leadership, with decision-making and problem-solving shared across the organization. It fosters what we teach at IISC –Facilitative Leadership, which is an intentional practice of creating the conditions for transformational collaboration in which people do their best work together to achieve optimal results.
Shared leadership assumes that power (2) is not finite and can be meaningfully shared. It requires a shift in heartset and mindset from “it’s about me” to “it’s about us,” and from “power over” to “power with.” It dismantles concentrations of power and dominance, and prevents extraction, while creating environments where trust-building, transparency, and creative autonomy are cultivated and can flourish.
Shared leadership doesn’t necessarily mean an end to executive roles or hierarchy or even the creation of a completely flat organizational structure. Organizations can implement the values and practices of shared leadership within a myriad of different organizational models and structures. The key is that senior leaders and managers are not in a dominant position where they control the fate of the organization or its employees. They are instead part of the ecosystem with information and decision-making flowing across the organization.
What is IISC’s Evolving Shared Leadership Model?
At IISC, we are about to implement a network-based team model, and we are experimenting along the way, building off of our longstanding commitment and internal practices of collaboration and distributed leadership. We believe it will enable us to harness the leadership, creativity, and ideas of all of us who work for IISC.
In our model, we are experimenting with what we call shared and equitable leadership. We will have a single president and multiple teams convened by hosts and supported by facilitators that will make decisions for their areas, while other teams will provide cross-functional input and expertise to ensure the teams are connected around strategy. Ad hoc teams – each with a unique and time-bound task – are also part of this model.
A center-holding group with membership from the various teams will weave the domains of activity and ensure people have what they need and are empowered to make change in their domains. This group will also have a host and facilitator and will include the president of IISC, and it will shift in membership as the organization’s needs change and members rotate. The group will include people with different roles and tenures in the organization, not based on their seniority or executive functions.
BIPOC and next generation leaders will be prioritized to ensure that we don’t replicate the negative attributes of white dominant culture or rely on time in the organization as a proxy for knowledge and influence. The model assumes healthy redundancies so if people shift in and out of the organization, take on different roles, or attend to health or personal crises, we will be resilient and not fall off course from our goals. The distinction between part-time and full-time staff will only be the hours they work, not how much influence they have over the organization.
This model will initially take time to implement and decision-making may be slower at the start as people learn to trust each other and move into formation. Most people are accustomed to traditional hierarchy and know instinctively how to operate in that kind of system. It can be hard for people familiar with holding positional power to adjust to letting go of making decisions, especially when they may disagree with those decisions. And for people newer to decision-making, it takes time to build confidence and skills, and to accept accountability for the impacts of those decisions. Patience is needed and power struggles and mistakes will invariably happen. Staff need information, tools, and experience to get their feet planted and take initiative. And once they do, we expect creativity and problem solving to expand and positively impact the organization.
In my case, as president of IISC, I am already experiencing the benefits of this new approach as we pilot some aspects of it. Fewer people are coming to me for answers or expecting me to make decisions. Generative conflict is surfaced and negotiated at individual and team levels and rarely comes through to me to resolve. I’m less fatigued and more inspired. I can more fully focus on what I believe are my essential roles of strategy, partnership-building, board development, fundraising, and program work. I am now more of a coach, offering questions for people to explore and occasional wisdom for those who are really stuck.
But there are tough realities to face as we experiment with parts of the model. We cannot always keep up with the flow of decisions that are needed or handle the bigger ones quickly. In the end, though, I am already finding that the quality of our decisions are better. And when we face tougher times, either organizationally or financially, we tend to find ourselves reverting to old habits of command and control. We have to remember to snap ourselves out of old practice and reprioritize our values and return to our new model. And in the end, we’re becoming a more dynamic and responsible organization because of shared and equitable leadership.
Do You Want to Try on Shared Leadership?
Shared leadership can lead to more effective organizations as diverse minds and expertise are applied to solving problems. It can achieve more balance in the lives of people as decision-making, responsibilities, and burdens are shared across the organization.
Shared leadership rocks the boat. For many of us, it’s not what we’re used to. And it liberates people to act on their visions and solutions which improves organizational performance and cracks impenetrable systems of oppression that we live and work under.
What would it look like to try shared leadership practices and experiments in your organization or institution? Where are you having success with shared leadership? Please comment.
(1) The Knowledge Share Group is a partnership of capacity and infrastructure building organizations in the United States. The groups include Change Elemental, CompassPoint, Crossroads Antiracism Organizing & Training, Interaction Institute for Social Change, ProInspire, and Rockwood Leadership Institute. (2) James Shelton III at the PolicyLink Equity Summit 2018 defined power simply and clearly as “power is the ability to create, limit or make choices for oneself or others.”
As the fall season is soon to begin, I am about to mark the beginning of my (to this point) seven year journey since re-entering the “workforce” after experiencing clinical burnout and proceeding with an intentional rhythm aimed at more balance. This has entailed gradual, focused, and caring support from a range of healers as layers upon layers have sloughed off, revealing deeper wounds and cries for attention.
“The function of freedom is to free someone else.”
All this said, as I feel that much “lighter” and learn-ed in my process, I am reflecting on seven steps that have been and will continue to be core to this journey, including the work that my colleagues and I do to help weave the more beautiful world we know is possible.
🌀 Re-cognize: bring awareness to the realities of dis-ease and dis-association
🌀 Re-lax: breathe into this awareness, let what bubbles up come up; keep breathing
🌀 Re-lease: let go of what may have served and no longer does and that which never did
🌀 Re-claim: start inviting back those parts/aspects that have been ostracized and ignored
🌀 Re-member: embrace more and more of our underlying, essential and limitless identity
🌀 Re-surge: allow what has been regathered to both guide and deepen trust in our core
🌀 Re-cycle: this process is not linear but more of a spiral that can encompass others
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And as the poets often capture it better than anyone, I will end with this from Danna Faulds:
This post picks up where Part 1 left off. To read that post, go to this link.
In a recent conversation with a cherished elder, we got to talking about these times and the story of the caterpillar changing into the butterfly. In her usual no-nonsense way, she shared that she often hears people talking about the cocoon, and maybe something about the “imaginal cells” that get to work in the cocoon to create the beautiful butterfly form (so cool!). “What I don’t necessarily hear is that whole thing about destruction of the caterpillar body – it basically gets pulverized and turns into goo!” This followed by laughter (she laughs a lot). Right, the goo. Not a lot of talk about the goo, about the dis-integration of the previous body that is necessary for the new body to organize.
I have caught myself doing this, banging my head against the question “What is the next (and better) form of family, community, organization, institution, society, etc.?” without allowing for the necessary meltdown of old forms. A version of this old adage just came to mind – “Can you be patient enough to let the mud settle?” Sometimes. Hopefully a little more each day. As I spend a fair amount of time working with social change networks, I am trying to remind people I work with (and myself) that the work of “network weaving” is not simply about always reaching out, always bringing in more and supporting more growth, but also about stepping back, seeing what is, perhaps doing some pruning. And remember to exhale.
The other thing that I try to remember is that if what we are moving through is really and truly “transformation,” not just some superficial rearrangement of the furniture, then it is going to be very hard to imagine not just what “the other side” will look like, but how I will feel inside of that new reality. I find that I can be prone to feelings of “fluttery-ness” these days, and if I don’t take care to listen more closely, I might assume that I am feeling nervous/anxious about the current state of the world. Of course sometimes I am (for example, when I wake to several days here in Western Massachusetts feeling as if I am in the Caribbean, weather-wise). Other times, when I slow down enough to actually interrogate the fluttery sensation, I realize that it can also be akin to the excitement I have felt when getting to the top of a tall rollercoaster and anticipating that moment of release. And I wonder…is that what the butterfly feels when it emerges from the cocoon, and when it takes its first flight? Just how does it go about adjusting to its new embodied reality?
Several years ago, I read the book The Net and the Butterfly, which is full of examples and suggestions of methods for opening ourselves to “the new.” A core point of the authors, Olivia Fox Cabane and Judah Pollack, is that in order to access new ways of being and doing, we do not have to be artistic geniuses or spiritual adepts. What we do need are ways to make the time and space to peacefully pay attention and notice differently, allowing insight and novelty to emerge on their own.
The common theme underlying the practices that the authors explore is supporting so-called neuroplasticity, our brains’ remarkable ability to rearrange neural pathways for new possibilities. Neuroplasticity happens on its own, to a certain extent, but is reduced by practiced habits and routines – i.e. staying stuck in ruts. This happens as we age and get too comfortable with or protective of the familiar. So in order to encourage an openness to new pathways, what can we do?
Stop trying to figure it out. Simply grinding on a situation or challenge or sitting in fear and frustration can prevent “solutions” from showing up. Give your mind a rest – take a shower/bath, take a walk, relax and breathe, or engage in relatively mindless activity (wash dishes, bounce a ball).
Try on new perspectives.Looking at the world differently can help us to see possibilities we had not observed from our usual vantage points. Read literature from different and unfamiliar disciplines. Talk to someone who sees the world differently (culturally, politically, professionally). Study a different language. Take a different route to work or for your daily walk. Lie down on the ground and look up and around, or climb a tree to literally get a different perspective on things.
Open up to different sounds, tastes and sensations. Intentionally seeking out and paying attention to unusual sensations can also strengthen our flexibility, adaptability, and openness to novelty. Research shows, for example, that by using our non-dominant hand to perform daily routines (brushing teeth, brushing hair, drinking from a cup) we can strengthen neuroplasticity. The key is to really pay attention to what we notice.
Learn from the intelligence and wonder of our more than human kin. Much more is being written about biomimicry and the wisdom of following the larger living world’s innate capacities for resilience and regeneration. And the power of awe is in some ways hard to beat in terms of its ability to crack us open. Check out this website for inspired ideas from our broader family or look at the writings of Dr. Robin Wall Kimmerer, Tristan Gooley and others that can help us read the patterns of living systems.
Be as full bodied as you can be, remembering we are bigger than our bodies give us credit for.As Richard Rohr writes, “To finally surrender ourselves to [transformation], we need to have three spaces opened within us – and all at the same time: our opinionated head, our closed-down heart, and our defensive and defended body. That is the work of spirituality.”
Lastly, I want to return to what I started with in Part 1 – listen/feel music.A philosopher once said, “The world without music would be wrong,” (or something close to that). I certainly find that the right song at the right time can create a kind of full-bodied resonance that is incredibly “regenerative” of my entire being and brings the world alive around me. I offer one more favorite here through an excerpt and invitation to watch the full video below:
I don’t wanna be someone who walks away so easily I’m here to stay and make the difference that I can make Our differences they do a lot to teach us how to use the tools and gifts We got yeah we got a lot at stake And in the end you’re still my friend at least we did intend For us to work we didn’t break, we didn’t burn We had to learn, how to bend without the world caving in I had to learn what I got, and what I’m not And who I am
I won’t give up on us Even if the skies get rough I’m giving you all my love I’m still looking up
What are you finding helps you to stay grounded and navigate these transformative times?
“Transformation is a process and, for survivors, it’s a process with ups and downs, flashbacks and panic attacks. But as [regeneration] confirms, it’s the better way.”
As I’ve been coming more and more into “the second half of life,“ I have found that I pay more attention, or perhaps I pay attention differently and to different things. One particular area I’ve noticed is song lyrics. Music that I may have previously enjoyed for the beats or melodies, I now find I am also appreciating for the timeliness and depth of the words. One example is one of my favorite songs from one of my favorite artists – “The Wood Song” by the Indigo Girls. I remember driving on a country road in my late 20s with windows rolled down and the radio cranked feeling the lift from both the rushing air and the rising chorus. In a more recent listen, these particular words grabbed me:
“Sometimes I ask to sneak a closer look Skip to the final chapter of the book And then maybe steer us clear from some of the pain it took To get us where we are this far But the question drowns in it’s futility And even I have got to laugh at me No one gets to miss the storm of what will be Just holding on for the ride”
Ah yes, how many times do I catch myself wanting to know “What comes next?” This could be for my own healing process, our family, “the work,” this country, the world as we know it. I suppose that curiosity is understandable/natural, and it can certainly be a trap when it keeps taking me out of the present moment. Also when it becomes a ploy to try and circumvent dis-comfort, noting here that the root of that word means to “not be coming with or connected to strength.” To feel uncertain and out of my zone of confidence and strong suit can of course be disorienting (anyone else out there having sensations of sloshiness?). Well, that really is the point, as the Indigo Girls sing later in that song.
“The wood is tired and the wood is old We’ll make it fine if the weather holds But if the weather holds we’ll have missed the point That’s where I need to go“
The point is to be present with whatever is, including the hardships of life and the turmoils of the soul. I don’t have to like it, and in fact many times have/will not, but should try not to immediately evade or skip over what’s hard and what hurts. To riff on a line from a country song, if you want to miss the pain then you’ll have to miss the dance.
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There is a poem I come back to every now and again, from David Wagoner, called “Lost”:
Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here, And you must treat it as a powerful stranger, Must ask permission to know it and be known. The forest breathes. Listen. It answers, I have made this place around you. If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here. No two trees are the same to Raven. No two branches are the same to Wren. If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you, You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows Where you are. You must let it find you.
You must let it find you. What is the “it”? The here and now. Not the “over there” or “next.” The present moment, as liminal and shaky as it may feel. And it certainly can feel shaky, at least in my experience and from what I am hearing and learning from others with whom I have been working.
When I do manage to settle and tune in to where and how I am, to where and how others are, and what guidance there might be from that powerful stranger, here is some of what I am hearing …
Take it easy.
Take good care.
Take care of endings.
Take care of beginnings.
Take care of one another.
Breathe … and remember to exhale …
Let things, “all the things,” bubble up; let them pass.
Lean in, engage; lean back, relax; repeat.
Stay curious.
Be humble.
Be kind.
Be.
Over and over, I am hearing and feeling these messages. And in moments of more extreme discomfort and pain, there is the reminder that “healing often hurts.” To recover you might have to do more uncovering, peel back more layers. Before you reweave you might have to unravel, maybe get rid of some of those dangling threads. To do differently or better, as my colleague Kellly Bates has beautifully written, you just might have to come undone …
Last month, I had the privilege of co-training the final session of a Facilitative Leadership for Social Change workshop at an organization that strives to improve the health of their community. It is a large system with a well-established hierarchy and a focus on deliverables.
At the end of the session, my co-trainer Marie Michael asked – on behalf of the two of us plus Marie’s co-trainer for much of the workshop, Kiara Nagel – “What is one gift you are grateful to have received from others in this space that we’ve created?”
Whoo! The tears and emotion were evident. Through that, here are some of the words that we heard:
The materials speak to me and allow me to know that I am on the right track and then have the tools to implement.
The gift of belonging – in a world that otherwise tells me I am not worthy, I felt worth and belonging.
I now have the ingenuity and relationship about what we are trying to achieve in our respective units.
As an introvert, it’s great to have this space and to meet people and learn ways to channel leadership as an introvert.
The gift of the listening heart; knowing I am not alone.
Inspiration. I am motivated and inspired to work differently and more collaboratively.
The ability to pause. Initially when I saw the time commitment I was not sure if I could commit. Now I realize I’ve used this time to pause and grow individually and not just “not be at work.”
I gained a community of like-minded people who I can bounce ideas off of and be challenged by when needed.
The feeling and energy of hope. One of the values where I work is hope (we do that for others but less for ourselves). I left feeling full.
Grateful to be in a space of mutuality where I can gain so much knowledge. Thank you for the materials and to everyone who shared deeply and honestly.
Facilitative Leadership for Social Change remains an enduringly impactful learning experience – and a transformative one for many who participate. It is gratifying for us to hear how the workshop is experienced so if you have a story to share, we invite you to share it here!
Over the past few years, I have had the privilege of getting to know and work with food justice advocates in the state of Mississippi through the Mississippi Food Justice Collaborative and the Mississippi Food Policy Council. On two occasions, as a part of visits to Jackson, Mississippi, I’ve had the opportunity to go on the wonderful civil rights tour provided by Frank Figgers. Mr. Figgers is a graduate of Tougaloo College, where he worked with the Jackson Human Rights Project, founded by Howard Spencer, a SNCC field organizer and former civil rights worker. While working with the Jackson Human Rights Project, Mr. Figgers met, worked with, and developed relationships with other former civil rights workers. He is an absolutely captivating storyteller, who has filled in many gaps in my own historical knowledge, and provided numerous corrections to the education I received.
Touring Jackson, we made stops at a number of different historical landmarks, including the Smith Roberston Museum and Cultural Center (once Smith Robertson Elementary School, the first public school for African-American children in Jackson), the Farish Street Historical District (known as a hub for Black-owned businesses up until the 1970s), the Greyhound bus station at 219 North Lamar Street (where many arrests were made during the 1961 Freedom Rides), Tougaloo College (established by descendants of slaves aboard the Amistad and an institution that has at the forefront of the Civil Rights Movement in Mississippi), and Medgar and Myrlie Evers Home National Historical Monument (where Medgar Evers was fatally shot in 1963). Mr. Figgers narrated key and often dramatic events while those of us in the large van he was driving listened intently and as if we were watching events play out in front of us.
Exhibits inside the Mississippi Civil Rights Museum
A common refrain that Mr. Figgers used, in pointing out how “everyday people” stepped up to fight for their and other’s rights amidst oppression and violence was – “They did what they could, with what they had, where they were.” As he said this, he scanned our faces in the back of the van, his eyes widening behind his glasses, and then smiled as a final point of exclamation. Even in the face of truly terrorizing circumstances, people stood up. They stood up. They did something. So many acts of tremendous courage, large and small. So many people, everyday people, finding ways. Making ways.
“They did what they could, with what they had, where they were.”
Something about those words continued to work through me, and so was the case for others who were on the tour, as we talked about it later. They’ve been echoing in my head more loudly recently, as I feel the strain in my body and mind related to escalating challenges and suffering around us.
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Another story recently came to mind as Mr. Figgers’ words have been working on me. Not long out of college, I created and ran a youth service program for middle and high school students in upstate New York. My first summer organizing the program was spent in the most rural and economically poorest part of the county where I was based. We had assembled a group of about ten middle schoolers who were motivated to help others or simply looking for something to do with their time in the summer months. We got involved with the local food pantry, learned a lot about hunger in the county and country, did some painting and cleaning work on a couple of historical buildings needing love and care, and made ourselves available to those in the community unable to do certain things for themselves.
About mid-way through the summer, as more people heard about our work, we received a call about an elderly woman who was legally blindand lived by herself. The town works department was coming to her house to fix some sewage pipes and in the process of digging up a portion of her back yard to do so, they were going to have to take down a few of her young fruit trees out back. Could we come and move them for her, a neighbor who was calling on her behalf wondered? The youth were very eager to assist, and on a blistering hot day we arrived with gloves on and shovels ready. Approaching the house I gasped a little – the structure looked like it was held together by little more than hope. We met the woman outside. She wore darkened glasses and was leaning on a walker. She welcomed us and promptly guided us to the trees out back. After some basic instructions, we got to work and spent a few hours digging holes, moving and watering trees, packing soil, adding some fertilizer, and then – with sweat pouring down our faces – felt satisfied that the job was complete.
The woman was delighted and, smiling behind her darkened lenses, asked if she could give us something in return. Without waiting for an answer she told us to follow her. We went inside her house and she waved us in the direction of the door behind her where we found the stairs to her cellar. We were then instructed to flick the switch at the top of stairs, descend, and “pick anything you like.” The kids and I looked at each other, a little uncertain. I went ahead and led the way. Once at the bottom of the creaky stairs, we looked around to see dust-covered shelves on all sides of a single unfinished room, completely packed with jars. Jars full of fruits, vegetables, jams, and pickled this-and-that. Hundreds of jars.We were completely floored. After taking a few minutes to absorb the incredible array, we each selected a jar that looked good to us and went back up stairs.
“You do all of that?” one of the girls asked once we were all gathered back in her kitchen.
“Yup,” said the woman, matter-of-factly.
“And you gonna eat all of that?” asked one of the boys.
The woman laughed. “Oh no,” she said. “I send most of those to the needy.”
There was silence in the kitchen as we worked that over in our minds.
She continued. “I give them to people in my church to send to people overseas who are hungry or experiencing difficulties like earthquakes.”
The kids nodded, clearly still working that through in their minds.
Well, let’s just say that gave us a lot to talk about during our van ride back to the kids’ homes. Despite all appearances, this elder, officially living at the poverty level, legally blind and physically limited, was doing what she could, with what she had, where she was.
A nice coda to the story is that the kids decided they wanted to learn how to do canning themselves and wondered if the woman would teach them. I reached out through the neighbor, the woman agreed, and we ended up donating what we produced (fruit jams) to the local food pantry where we had begun our summer of service work.
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I am not going to lie. There are days when I feel completely overwhelmed. I look at what I see as the challenges we face in this country and world and I wonder, “How on earth…? It’s too much! It’s just too much.” And then I think of Mr. Figgers and the everyday people of the historical and current day civil rights movement in Mississippi and other places. And I think of “The Canning Lady,” (as she came to be called by the kids in our service group), and so many others like her that do what they can everyday with whatever they have wherever and however they are. And that’s enough to eventually right me.
Part of this righting is remembering is that it is not just about me! It is about doing my part, making the contribution(s) that I can make. To riff on a phrase I often use in supporting the creation of social change networks, it’s also about “doing my best, and then connecting to and trusting the rest.” That’s why I am such a big fan of networks, of making more loving links between people and places. Imagine more of us doing what we can, where we are, with what we have, and weaving it all into something larger. Something even more beautiful. As a poet once said, we might just make a world like that.
In these times of splitting and splintering, I keep in mind a powerful experience from a few years ago when a team of us were working with a climate resilience planning initiative in the South Bronx in New York City. We had been brought in to support city planners and engineers in creating and facilitating a community engagement process that would generate ideas for resilient energy systems with other community benefits (education, jobs), while also building stronger relationships within the community and between community members and government officials. The way we did this was essentially by humanizing the process, reducing barriers to accessing and sharing information and importantly reducing barriers standing in the way of people accessing one another.
What this meant was that we chose meeting spaces that felt like community spaces, not official government meeting rooms. We slowed the process down overall, made sure that any information presented was done in non-jargon heavy ways with plenty of opportunity for people to ask questions and with translation services available. We also brought music into the room, at the start and end of meetings, as well as other creative art forms during certain portions of the process so that community members could express more fully their hopes and concerns through different media. For evening meetings we served delicious locally-catered food. Childcare was available for parents who wanted that support. And as facilitators, we treated everyone as if they had something to offer, no matter their age or official position, and assumed all wanted the best for the community.
Public meeting held in community center theater space
Predictably, in the early going, some long standing social-political dynamics and suspicions showed up. People seemed to be really good at and used to playing their respective roles – buttoned up officials, ardent (and occasionally angry) community organizers, business owners thinking mainly about their own livelihood, etc. But over time you could feel things start to shift as people understood that this was a different kind of process. There was more laughter and joy in the space, less posturing, softening of tone, and more engagement with one another outside of official roles and meeting times.
This all culminated in a particular moment when the city official with whom we worked most closely had to share some difficult news at a public meeting from one of the engineering analyses that was not well received by many community members. Tempers flared in the room, and just when it seemed we were going to come to a complete stalemate, the official with whom we were working cried out, “Look, I’m on your side! I want this to work for you. We’ve been trying to figure this out but it’s not that easy.” For a moment this person looked like they were going to burst into tears, holding their head in their hands.
That public display of emotion, of vulnerability, was followed by what felt like a long silence, and then one of the lead community organizers looked at our facilitation team, seemed to sigh with their entire body, stood with hands outstretched and said, softly, “Let us help you. That’s why we’re here.” That exchange broke what might have been the spell that returned us to the predictable story of “us vs them.” It opened up possibility and kept us going and eventually led to agreement on a path forward.
“That’s why we’re here.”
Not to fight or prove who’s right.
Not to keep an old tired and fatiguing pattern going.
Not to waste more precious time, money and other resources.
But to figure out how to make sure that people and communities are safe in the face of whatever may come.
And to do that figuring, TOGETHER.
That is the bigger promise of collaboration from our humble and long-standing perspective at IISC, having supported hundreds of collaborative ventures over the past 30 + years: to bring our different needs, perspectives, talents and ideas together to make something better, for everyone. This notion used to be seen as almost pollyannish in some circles up until about about 15 years ago. Then it became much more accepted as people grappled with increasingly complex issues and challenges. More recently it has been seen as needed but perhaps a near impossibility in some places because of pronounced pain and polarization.
And still what we know is that now more than ever, we need each other. As trite as it may sound, difference and diversity are truly our strength. And we know that we have far more in common than we do differences. Most of us share a core set of common values, most of us want something better, better than what we have in many communities and this country right now. Some of us may be tired and perhaps frightened. Yet we cannot avoid the truth that we are in this together. We certainly are beingtested to learn to live and work together in new ways. What if we saw this as an opportunity to show what we are truly made of and might become? This could actually happen if we were to reach toward one other in good faith, from a spirt of deep caring, and with curiosity, humility, and determined hope.
Image by Emily Bergquist, shared under provisions of Creative Commons Attribution license 2.0.
“We must move ourselves beyond resistance and survival, to flourishment and ‘mino bimaadiziwin’(the good life).“
Leanne Betasamosake Simpson
“The challenge is to replace practices that distance and disconnect with ones that evoke empathy, caring, and creativity.”
Carol Sanford
NOTE: This is a slightly revised version of a post that appeared about a year and a half ago. We live, we learn, and so some of the overall framing and details have shifted, but the essence here remains the same …
In our collaborative change work with organizations and multi-organizational networks, we at IISC are adamant about doing thoughtful “stakeholder analysis” at the start of an initiative, and returning to this work periodically, asking the question, “Who are we missing or not seeing?” As important as this can be, not everyone loves the word “stakeholder.” It can sound somewhat wonky and impersonal, and I myself have been thinking about the word “stake” and what it says about people.
To have a stake means “to have a share, interest, or involvement in something or someone.” Going back to the early 1700s, a stakeholder was one to whom money was deposited when making a wager/bet. And in the colonizing of what is now the United States, stakes were literally placed on lands that were stewarded by Indigenous peoples as a way of claiming ownership of them. What none of this conveys is a sense of care or caring. I don’t mean whether or not someone cares (or is indifferent), but whether there is a genuine heartfelt/embodied sense of connection or deep desire to participate, protect, co-create and/or contribute. Increasingly, this sense of care and caring (along with reckoning and making amends) is showing up as a crucial factor in making the work of complex collaborative (systemic and culture) change happen.
Recently, Anne Heberger Marino tweeted something about translating “stakeholders” to “careholders” in her/their mind to get beyond “detached objectivity.” I really like and resonate with that! And it goes beyond the term I had been playing with that still felt a bit detached – “interest-holder.” Playing with language seems to raise some interesting possibilities. In general, when we at IISC work with partners to consider who might been engaged in collaborative social change work, we uplift the following categories/criteria (applied to individuals and groups) with respect to a given initiative:
Is likely to be impacted by the outcome of the effort/decision
Functions as a connector in or across sector(s)/field(s)/communities
Is in a position to implement the effort/decision
Is in a position to prevent the effort/decision from being implemented
Has relevant information or “expertise” (including lived experience)
Has informal influence without authority
Has formal authority/responsible for the final decision
Is Indigenous to the place where we are doing “the work”
Applying a lens of “caring” or (or even of “loving”) to these criteria brings out another level or nuance, for me anyways. Beyond functionality and/or positionality, it invites me to ask: Who really connects to and cares about what we are trying to do? This can deepen and really anchor the analysis in powerful ways and also potentially expand possibilities for the initiative in question. Farmer, poet and essayist Wendell Berry has talked about the importance of what he calls “the turn towards affection.” Having spent many years reflecting on and pushing back against the unfortunate demonstrated human capacity to damage the land and demonize “the other,” he takes a strong stand for deep connection, or affection:
“For humans to have a responsible relationship to the world, they must imagine their places in it. … By imagination we see it illuminated by its own unique character and by our love for it.”
And, of course, there is longstanding Indigenous perspective and practice around “seeing” and sensing the land and all beings as kin, as “relations” that shape us and are shaped by us, with or without our conscious “knowing.” What if we asked ourselves and others what might be illuminated by people bringing their affection, love and/or sense of kinship to the initiative, work, place and/or goal in question? Who already has this? How might we inspire it in others?
“Cares deeply about the effort/decision” might become its own worthy category/criterion. And in looking at the criterion from the list above, “Is in a position to prevent the initiative/decision from being implemented” (the proverbial “blocker(s)”), bringing a lens of care might help us wonder what perceived “adversaries” actually care about/love/connect to. Might this kind of curiosity help to build bridges and understanding from the outset as opposed to immediately relegating certain people and groups to the category of “them”?
Speaking to the last criterion in the list above, recent conversations among a group of IISC staff and affiliates about these categories and criterion have raised important considerations of Indigenous peoples and perspectives. Increasingly we are seeing an interest in acknowledging and addressing harms done through colonialism, validating Indigenous ways of knowing, and working to establish “right relationships” and a “resurgence” (borrowing language here from Leanne Betasamosake Simpson) of saluto-genic (health/wholeness-promoting) systems. And perhaps by extension of these notions of “indigeneity” and caring, we might also consider who: “Speaks for the land” (see the work and writings of Jeannette Armstrong, of the Okanagan people) and also “Speaks for the more-than-human realm.”
I am also reminded of our IISC Collaborative Change Lens, which includes the facet of “love” as a force for social transformation and justice. Love here is a deeply rooted sensibility and practice, something that connects us in an ongoing way to “right mind and right action” in support of the “bigger We” of which we are all a part. As we say on our website, “We nurture the love that does justice: the desire for the wellbeing of others, which is central to every social change movement. Love infuses our power with compassion, reclaims our resilience, heals our wounds, causes us to see ourselves as connected, and enables our radical imagination.”
Finally, at least for now, as I look at the list of nine criteria above, I am tempted to add one more growing out of the unfolding spirit of these reflections. I would simply add a place/seat for “possibility,” in whatever form that might want to take. To and for me, the practice of leaning into more caring/loving leads naturally to this kind of space. More on that soon. And in the meantime …
What might care and care-holding bring to your consideration of who and how to engage others/”kin” in your social change work?
New Tulsa flag. For more on its meaning, including tribal connections, see this link.
A couple of weeks ago, I had the privilege of attending and presenting at the 25th annual White Privilege Conference in Tulsa, Oklahoma with my dear colleague Karen Spiller. We were invited to share about the past 10 years of co-producing the 21 Day Racial Equity Habit Building Challengefor Food Solutions New England, and also be in conversation with Dr. Eddie Moore, Jr., Debby Irving and Dr. Marguerite Penick-Parks, who were the originators of the 21 Day Equity Challenge through The Privilege Institute. To say that it was a rich experience is an understatement.
Meeting in the City of Tulsa and being in the state of Oklahoma was particularly poignant, for all that they represent with respect to this country’s history – the destination of the Trail of Tears and home to 39 different Indigenous tribes because of relocation and forced removal; the site of Black Wall Street and the 1921 Massacre; birthplace of the likes of Woody Guthrie, Wilma Mankiller, Jim Thorpe, Anita Hill, and Ralph Ellison; a focal point of the Dust Bowl, and known as the buckle of the so-called “Bible Belt.”
We were truly blessed to be welcomed each day by members of one of the three tribes whose reservations intersect in the City of Tulsa – Osage, Cherokee, and Muscogee Creek. Through their welcoming words and “land acknowledgments” we learned so much more about this country’s history and also the resilience and generosity of Indigenous peoples. This included a very rich morning presentation from Wilson Pipestem, a citizen of the Otoe-Missouria Tribe, Osage headright holder, Managing Partner and co-founder of Ietan Consulting and a fierce advocate for tribal self-determination. In this and a follow-up breakout session Pipestem facilitated with his colleague Lance Kelley, of the Muscogee Creek, I found myself scribbling teachings, including this list of ten, all of which seem to fit under broader headings of “be aware of the danger of the single story” and “check your assumptions”:
There are some 575 tribes in the US today and more than 300 reservations, along with 630 Canadian “reserves.”
In telling the story of the Indigenous peoples within the US, we should not speak of “conquest.” Rather we should talk about accommodation, ongoing attempts at agreement building, and of course, agreements broken and terrible harms done.
Much of the policy of the US government during the Trail of Tears era and beyond was based in a very false and harmful belief that Indigenous peoples were “inferior and would disappear eventually.”
Related to the above, laws were set around certain allowances of land for Indigenous peoples, complete with White overseers and an expiration date, all of which emphasized the false idea of “Indigenous impermanence and incompetence.”
During the Battle of Horseshoe Bend, Andrew Jackson had his life saved by a Cherokee named Junaluska. Later, Jackson, as President, would request the removal of Junaluska and his people from North Carolina as part of the Trail of Tears.
A large part of Indigenous resistance lay in the ongoing refusal to accept that “the ways we were given that we know are perfect are in any way ‘wrong’.”
The story of Little House on the Prairie could also be told as that of, “A White family that was squatting on Indigenous lands.”
There exists a range of “blood quantum” requirements among tribes which determine tribal membership (from as much as one-half to as little as 1/128).
Sitting with all of this, with much gratitude, and more committed than ever to the notion of working towards “right relationship” as well as telling the fuller story of this imperfect and amazing country.
What assumptions are you sitting with?
What single stories that could benefit from a fuller telling?
If you’re like me, I never would have thought I would be leading an organization during epic extremes and upheaval in our nation. I was not prepared for this! On many days, I feel like I’m leading through total chaos without any kind of a manual for it. That’s why IISC is bringing leaders of all kinds together on May 7th in a virtual interactive learning experience. I’ll be there, along with my colleague Simone John. We will acknowledge and cultivate the orientation and skills that are needed to lead through, well, wild times.I could use expletives in place of “wild,” but I know you get the point.
I‘ve led six organizations over my three-decade nonprofit and social justice career and none of it prepared me for what I’m up against now or what has been going on since 2020. I’ve had to lead our staff through a global pandemic, weather disasters, political and social upheaval, as well as the day-to-day struggle of accelerating our mission for racial justice and creating an organization that centers human wellbeing.
What has helped me lead through it all? Frankly, it was partly being a black biracial woman who was raised in untenable circumstances and had no other choice than to be resourceful, rely on others, and blast music in my ears when I ran out of hope. The other critical part was working in an organization such as IISC that cultivates shared and equitable leadership through our collaborative change lens of love, equity, and networks.
No one should be alone, struggling, or pushing through leadership. Not when it’s so chaotic and absolutely wild and hard out there. Not when IISC has got some wisdom and tools we’re excited to share, and we bet you’ve got some gems to share, as well!
“Our life is frittered away by detail. Simplify, simplify, simplify!
I say, let your affairs be as two or three, and not a hundred or a thousand; instead of a million count half a dozen …
and keep your accounts on your thumb-nail.”
– Henry David Thoreau
Image by Bill Smith, shared under provisions of Creative Commons Attribution License 2.0.
Earlier this week I posted on our blog a piece drawing from lessons learned in over a dozen years of supporting Food Solutions New England to launch and evolve as a network. These lessons were also drawn from other collaborative networks we have supported over the years at IISC, and fed forward into our work with FSNE, not as a way of forcing fit, but seeing if the system/network reacted favorably.
A colleague and collaborator from outside of IISC read the post and fed it to into an AI interface and asked about the top three take-aways (the original post has a list of 25 developmental milestones and lessons). That generated a very interesting summary, which I continued to play with a bit. Collaborating in this way has yielded the following three core elements for long-term collaborative and networked success in our experience, without declaring final victory (which is surely a bit of fiction).
1. **Foster a Culture of Collaboration and Shared Vision/Values**: The importance of working together as a collective rather than as isolated entities underscores the need for a unifying vision and values. The vision and values should bridge real and perceived differences, creating a sense of belonging and purpose across diverse groups. Co-creating a guiding vision and values not only aligns efforts but also amplifies impact through collective action. Engaging in storytelling and shared experiences, like breaking bread together, further solidifies shared vision and values by humanizing the collaboration, making it more than just a professional undertaking. This approach encourages a deeper understanding and appreciation of one other, fostering a more cohesive and inclusive network.
2. **Build and Maintain a Robust, Trust-Based Network**: The call to build networks that are vertical, horizontal, and diagonal emphasizes the importance of creating spaces where trust and accountability can become the foundation. This involves not only bonding within similar groups but also bridging across different ones, ensuring a rich tapestry of connections that are resilient and creative over time. These networks are strengthened by dedicated support for convening, coordination, and facilitation, ensuring that collaboration is effective. Enrolling network weavers or ambassadors to keep the network vibrant and inclusive is crucial through ongoing outreach.
3. **Commit to Continuous Learning, Equity, and Systemic Saluto-genesis**: Recognizing and addressing social inequities within the system is vital for achieving a fair and sustainable future. This involves a commitment to racial and other forms of equity, both broadly and deeply. Leveraging “network effects” for spreading learning, understanding the persistence of dominant systems/power structures, and identifying leverage areas for “collective impact” are critical steps towards systemic saluto-genesis (ongoing health-promotion for all “participants” in the system and the system as a whole). This also highlights the need for integrated policies that reflect the network’s core vision and values, making policy along with financial and other resources more equitably available and relevant to people. It also encourages embracing complexity while striving for simplicity in tools and approaches, preparing for disruptions, being trauma-informed, well-being oriented and dedicated to accessibility.
Recently a colleague and I were invited to present to partners in Mississippi about what we have learned over a dozen years of creating a network in New England dedicated to advancing a just, sustainable, democratic and collaborative regional food system.
It has been quite a journey to date, filled with twists and turns, much joy, and some hard-earned wisdom. Over this time I have done my best to capture insights and developments as they have happened in blog posts. In reflecting on those, along with content that has been curated on the network’s website, I pulled together the list of developmental lessons/milestones below.
This could easily be longer, and if one were to “double click” on any item, a whole story would unfold with other learnings. Some day we hope to capture this in a fuller telling, and for now, here is an offering of 25+ take-aways, some of which might be of interest to others depending on where you are in your own network stories of change.
Co-create a guiding vision to bring people together across real and perceived differences/boundaries.
Build a network and strengthen trust that is vertical, horizontal and diagonal (in network-speak, “bond and bridge“); years from now, we will be very glad we did.
Lean into core and common values (these will help us through some of the hard times and decisions).
Engage in storytelling and breaking bread together, getting to know one another beyond roles, titles and assumptions (this will create more “surface area” for connection).
Identify leverage areas (we now call them “impact areas”) that we can lean into collectively to create the better system(s) that align with our shared vision and values.
“Do what you do best and connect to the rest”– keep focusing on what is ours to do as a network in the region, while respecting, appreciating and linking with what others are doing that aligns with and complements our efforts.
Work for narrative change in and around the food system and messaging that aligns with our shared vision and values.
Create an integrated policy platform across the region and sectors, grounded in our core vision and values, and help make policy more accessible and relevant to everyone.
As Toni Morrison once wrote, “Keep asserting the complexity and the originality of life, and the multiplicity of it, and the facets of it.” Normalize complexity in our shared work, while avoiding making things more complex than they need to be.
With respect to technology tools and platforms, remember that less can truly be more, and that they are as much about sociology as technology. Ask what you really need to facilitate fluid communication, sharing and decision-making.
Ongoing and always, throughout all of the above, practice “fierce love” (deep caring and accountability, for/to yourself and others)
Also, based on where we seem to be heading in 2024 … Help weave together a larger regional “network of networks” and regional infrastructure focused on addressing poverty advancing climate resilience and supporting thriving communities/local people.
Feel free to sign the Food Solutions New England Pledge here, no matter where you are, to support and align with our core values and vision.
