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 commentMarch 27, 2025
Image description: A bold 2D illustration of a woman with dark brown skin and blue hair cradling a blue Earth and leaves amidst the night sky. By Yeti Iglesias via Unsplash+.
In times of great change and uncertainty, where can we turn for guidance for how to navigate? Well, it turns out there is a lot of wisdom that we can all tap into that comes in many different forms. And we don’t really need to stretch that far to access it. How do I know this? Because we have asked.
One of my favorite group check-in questions over the past month has been:
“Who (or what) is one important teacher you have had in your life, and what is one important teaching you have received from that teacher?”
People have really loved this question, both conjuring up beloved teachers in many different forms – formal teachers, family members, friends, mentors, pets, a favorite tree, a powerful experience – as well as sharing with and hearing from one others.
This is a taste of what came up in answer to the question over the past couple of weeks, which people agreed provided some solid grounding for them:
Stand in integrity.
Trust your gut/intuition.
Remember your purpose.
Always save a place for joy.
Honor the intelligence of your body.
Don’t let the knuckleheads get you down.
Be as clear as you can in your communication with others.
Sometimes you have to break big things down into smaller pieces.
Show you care by overcoming challenges and showing up.
Remember to laugh and take your mistakes lightly.
Remember the power of pausing and reflecting.
Remember there is always more to the story.
Don’t try to win the game … change it.
Forgive, both yourself and others.
In the end, love wins.
What about you? Who is a teacher you would lift up and a teaching from them that might be helpful to remember now and perhaps to share with others?
The movement for justice is a marathon, not a sprint. In every meeting I attended on January 21, I asked folks how they spent January 20. Almost everyone said they avoided or minimized news and social media, in favor of focusing on the Martin Luther King, Jr. holiday and other activities that fed their souls. I did too. Here are a few of my highlights.
An MLK Day celebration in Watertown, MA featured a 45-minute table discussion instead of a typical keynote speaker. The emphasis was on neighbors discussing important issues, including how they relate to Dr. King’s Fundamental Philosophy of Nonviolence. Those discussions were facilitated by middle school students trained in Kingian nonviolence principles and practices. It was a beautiful reminder of the power of King’s philosophy and the power of adults following the lead of young people.
Get in the Way, a documentary about the late Congressman and former chair of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, John Lewis, inspired me to find ways to get into good and necessary trouble.
The interfaith service, For Such A Time as This: A Prophetic Response to America’s Defining Moment featured faith leaders from many traditions, including Bishop William Barber of the Poor People’s Campaign: A National Call for Moral Revival. It grounded me in my deepest values and source of strength.
Jon Batiste’s Beethoven Blues washed over me, creating a sense of buoyancy and peace.
A visit to my mother-in-law reminded me of how precious life and family are, and what a gift it is to be able to confront this moment with a clear mind.
The next day, I read the inauguration speech, doing my best to apply Prophetic Listening Guidelines offered by Repairers of the Breach to my reading. While I feel the weight of this moment, I am also feeling informed but not overwhelmed by information and opinion. I’m ready to pay close attention while guarding against a constant flow of frustration. I’m also feeling fortified by my faith and my confidence that as friends, colleagues, movement comrades, family, church members, and neighbors begin to discern what is needed from us in this moment, we will find ways to meet this moment together with the grace, strength, humility, and wisdom it requires.
In the weeks following the election, I was on the road all over the country, gathering with thousands of leaders, organizers, and funders. When I got on the plane to Washington, DC on the day after the election, I felt a power I didn’t know I had—to look straight into the face of my worst fears for our country and greet it with power and resolve.
The memory of Harriet Tubman jumped into my body. I felt ten-feet taller and engulfed in a heavy cloak of protection. Harriet brought enslaved Africans to freedom in Canada through an elaborate system of travel, shelter, and care. Harriet could easily have brought her family to Canada and stopped there, but she repeatedly came back to the United States and carried hundreds of others to freedom. Her unyielding bravery reminds us that the fight for justice isn’t a singular act but a lifetime commitment to freedom for all. Her legacy fuels my determination and our collective mission at IISC to keep returning for those still seeking liberation.
She was not done. I am not done. IISC is not done.
What I learned from my days in DC and in subsequent convenings and conversations is that we have a duty to work for justice—for ourselves and for others, unequivocally. Come January and the inauguration, we will enter a strong era of oppression and suppression. Rest assured IISC will not let any human or system of hate stop the work for justice. We will work to significantly expand human connection and collaboration so that no oppression or its deep shards of pain and injustice can stand.
At IISC, we know this country has the potential to reset in the right direction. Doing so will require us to be facilitative leaders—people who create the conditions for everyone to lead, to forge new pathways, to reach for and love “the other,” and to create enduring and bold networks that together are big enough and resilient enough to take on any fight that comes its way.
We’re so excited to launch new offerings to support you. Our staff and members of our “Dream Lab” will roll out a new interactive learning session in 2025 on network leadership, a training on shared leadership, a new program to amplify and protect the leadership of women of color who are leading organizations and brave movements, and more. These resources are designed to prepare you for this next chapter in America’s story.
Go back to your communities and expand who will be on the side of love and liberation so that we can reach our North Star. Change what you can control—make your workplace more humane, join actions of resistance, talk with people who others won’t talk with, and collaborate instead of competing out of fear.
Powerlessness is pernicious. But it can’t stand up to the strength of connection, collaboration, and interaction. And the persistence of love, the greatest force for change.
I started my day today with my regular spiritual practices and the music of Sweet Honey in the Rock. Their music was the soundtrack of my political and spiritual awakening. I found wisdom there for this day, and borrowed the title of this post from their song of the same name.
It’s important for me to acknowledge the disappointment, anger, and fear that I and many people feel in this moment, and to hold one another gently as we grieve. Rumi wrote: “The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” And so I enter this day with resolve, looking at the wound and also looking for the light that can enter through it. Sweet Honey shines a light through their song I Remember, I Believe.
I don’t know how my mother walked her trouble down I don’t know how my father stood his ground I don’t know how my people survived slavery I do remember, that’s why I believe
While we face hard times today, this isn’t the first time and it won’t be the last. Our ancestors faced even harder times. They, and our descendants, are counting on us to weather this storm.
The late love warrior John Lewissaid, “Freedom is not a state; it is an act. It is not some enchanted garden perched high on a distant plateau where we can finally sit down and rest. Freedom is the continuous action we must all take, and each generation must do its part to create an even more fair, more just society.”
I am asking myself, What must this generation do now? What do we – the larger movement for justice and also IISC – need to learn? What do we need to change? How do we protect those most at risk and encourage those who feel despair? How can we “block and build” in this moment and the season to come?
As we live our way into the answers, let’s remember that we are in this together and we cannot give up. And as the lyrics of another Sweet Honey in the Rock song remind us,”We who believe in freedom cannot rest … Struggling myself don’t mean a whole lot, I’ve come to realize that teaching others to stand and fight is the only way our struggle survives.” (Ella’s Song)
“Find a river, that flows to the sea put your feet in the water, carry you home.”
-The Mitchell Twins, from the song “Find a River”
Last week I had the opportunity to hear a talk given by Kari Kastango, who is the first person known to have swum the length of the Connecticut River. She was the perfect kick-off speaker at a gathering of Rivershed protectors in my home region who are looking to grow and strengthen their efforts through what amounts to a network of networks. To me, Kastango’s talk set a wonderful foundation for this collaborative work, highlighting the importance of being in deeper relationship with the river itself, and taking guidance from this connection.
Kastango began her talk by saying that she was influenced from an early age by extreme athletes who tested the limits of human capacity. This led her to participate in various endurance events, such as “iron man” contests, and eventually to the idea of swimming the entire length of the Connecticut River. She shared that when she made the commitment she initially thought the river was around 200 miles in length. She then learned it was 410 miles. Her response – “Double the fun!” – was an affirmation of what has been coming through loud and clear for some months now – We can do hard things and sometimes the best thing to do is to run towards the danger.
As further illustration of this point, Kastango talked about how one summer she chose a couple days to swim a particularly challenging length of the river that fell between two hurricanes. With torrential downpours having stirred the waters into considerable turbulence, she learned that she should not fight the currents, but respect them, giving time to get a sense of the flows, and to go with those. The teaching that came through to me is that – even in what may feel like chaos and threatening conditions – a more coherent pattern can become evident if we are both patient and flexible.
Kastango also talked about how over time she became more observant, not simply of the waters and the sky, but other “kin” moving in and around the waters. Birds and other critters who are more familiar with certain environments and conditions have much to teach us if we choose to listen/watch/sense. Lesson – there is much wisdom to be learned from those who are indigenous to a place or land/waterscape, both human and more-than-human.
Another point I took away from Kastango’s talk was when she shared about getting toward the end of her swim. As she approached the Long Island Sound she said she could feel the pull of the larger waters. “It was like they were calling me home,” she said with a smile on her face. At that point she could relax more and let the waters carry her towards the sea. From this I heard that there can be a pull underlying our efforts to create change, or navigate challenge, and that this force actually wants to guide us to a “better” place, a place of greater belonging, beyond any of our efforts to force or even imagine.
Though she wrapped up her swim a year ago, Kastango said that after all those months and miles, she still feels the river in her. She still is in relationship with those waters. And that is why she tells her story – that others might develop that kind of special connection, that we not forget our more-than-human kin, and that more of us work to protect the rivers and other waterways that are (in the words of an Indigenous teacher) “the elixir of life.”
For those who live in and/or love the Connecticut River Watershed and want to learn more about the efforts to connect and protect, go to this link. And for some fun facts about Kari Kastango’s swim, go to this link.
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:
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!
All along the way, there were messages of what the times are calling for in terms of practicing resilience and transformation. Each of these deserves a fuller unpacking, and I offer them here for now, with much gratitude to many teachers along the way. I begin each of these with the word “remember,” as that was a core teaching from our gathering on Haudenosaunee lands, that one of our greatest gifts is to remember, and that so much of this is about remembering …
Remember that everything is designed to work together through reciprocal relations.
Remember where you come from, what your “creation story” is, as there is great guidance there.
Remember what matters most to you, your values, and align with them in practice.
Remember what is yours to do in this lifetime and in/with Life.
Remember to go below the neckline (to the heart and gut), without throwing out what is above it (the head).
Remember to practice belonging and accountability (they go together and support one another).
Remember to do intergenerational work/learning, thinking of those living, those passed on, and those yet to come.
Remember to bring in “the periphery” (whatever that means in your particular situation – this generally relates to power and access). There is much wisdom and fresh insight here.
Remember the importance of putting in place a “resilience or transformation infrastructure” (think process, roles and relationships) – this does not necessarily happen on its own.
Remember when it makes sense to “institutionalize” and do so in ways that do not kill spirit, vitality and diversity.
Remember not to make assumptions and be prepared to be surprised.
Remember to have faith in the unseen, the power of “practical magic.”
Remember to break bread with one another, to talk with one another and to keep leaning in to the (apparent) differences. Learning awaits!
Remember to find what grounds and nourishes you (individually and collectively) and cherish/honor it.
Image by Nick Doty, used under provision of Creative Commons attribution license 2.0.
In previous posts (see “Life (and Power) on the Resilient Edge of Resistance” and “At the Heart of Regeneration is … the Heart (and the Gut”), I have written about my experiences with the Weston Network and the Respectful Confrontation training and apprenticeship program and more recently with the Fierce Civility teacher training program, which I began in March of this year. This most recent experience, including a 5 day retreat with a small and racially diverse group of skillful practitioners from around the US, again drove home the importance for me of embodied practice generally, and specifically to manage our nervous systems and engage in interpersonal “co-regulation.” To me, Joe Weston is a true magician, a masterful teacher and coach, and someone that hashelped me to develop deeper reverence for my body and its wisdom (along with very adept healers, Dr. Eve Capkanis and Gwen McClellan).
A few weeks ago, Joe gave me a draft of his forthcoming book, currently titled Fierce Civility: Transforming Our Global Culture from Polarization to Lasting Peace, and asked that I do a critical review. I came away with more appreciation for what he and The Weston Network are trying to achieve in these fractured and fractious times. “Civility” has (almost) become a dirty word, seen as naive and impossible by some (at least when considering certain cultural and political divides), and as harmful by others, if “being civil” means not speaking or hearing truths or working for social justice. Joe appreciates all of this (writing at one point – “Even our passivity has taken on a tone of aggression”), and holds the concept of civility in dynamic tension with fierce-ness.
Fierce civility is not about “chronic niceness” or conflict avoidance, but rather advocates for stances of assertiveness (as opposed to aggression) and receptivity (as opposed to passivity). Fierce civility is not about glossing over systemic and structural injustice and oppression, even as it does not shy away from promoting personal responsibility and accountability. This delicate and sometimes difficult balancing act was definitely a topic of conversation this past weekend when our Fierce Civility cohort (whom Joe has dubbed “love ninjas”) gathered on the heels of Friday’s US Supreme Court decision on Roe v. Wade. That is a discussion that will continue, no doubt. Joe writes in his book, “We are technologically overfed and spiritually malnourished,” and encourages people to intentionally change their diets (quality and quantity) as a means of effectively making both personal and systemic change. And best if this is work is done with supportive community.
Four core elements of Fierce Civility and Respectful Confrontation
There is much more to say about the book, as well as the practices that the Weston Network teaches (though better to actually read the book and engage in the practices), but for now, I wanted to share (with Joe’s permission) some particular quotes that struck while reading the draft and that have stayed with me.
“True martial artists would say that they learn how to fight so that they can pivot away from conflict and aggression and prevent fighting, and that is true power.”
“Imagine in a conversation if the goal on both sides was to protect yourself, the other and the conversation itself from unconscious reactivity and the lack of civility that can unexpectedly seep in.”
“When we give the extremes all of our attention, our focus is turned towards them and away from the larger majority of people who hold more nuanced, less reactive views of the same issues.”
“What if the most courageous, revolutionary and impactful thing you could do at this time is to cultivate a daily practice of aligning with your humanity, embody a deeper level of resilience, avoid burn out, as well as maintain and deepen authentic relationships?”
“This is what true freedom is: freeing yourself of unexamined beliefs and biases; gaining confidence to stay regulated in challenging situations; opening your heart in safe and empowered ways, and protecting against any threats to civility and non-violence.”
“Many of us have forgotten that debating issues can be fun, not a life-or-death experience. We have become frightened and turned off by the messiness of human interaction and the process of creating something new.”
“The two halves of the heart pump with and against each other. This dynamic interplay might look pretty volatile to the human eye, but the body knows that that level of assertiveness is necessary to keep the system healthy and vital.”
“We are seeing a shift to cyber and economic warfare. The techniques may change, but the primitive impulse for war has not. And while we may have peace treaties, we are not seeing the global cooperation needed to sustain life.”
“If only hanging out with people who already agree with you were going to solve our problems, we would have already solved them.”
(Quoting Gabor Maté): “Safety is not the absence of danger; safety is the presence of connection.”
I love frisbee and have for as long as I can remember. Recently, as I was entering into a few weeks of sabbatical time away from work, a friend asked me what I thought would be most regenerative of my mind, body and spirit during this time. In addition to rest, slowing down, being generally mindful, and taking a break from screens, social media and the news, one of the things that came top of mind was playing frisbee. I have memories of my teenage and twenty-something self in utter bliss and a sense of timelessness, hurling a disk across a vast expanse at a corner lot in our neighborhood in Flint, Michigan or at a lakeside park in upstate New York with my dad or a friend, feeling the breeze, watching the frisbee glide and rotate against a backdrop of brilliant blue sky and feeling the grass massage my bare feet as I ran to make a catch. Heaven.
This is a love that I seem to have successfully instilled in my three daughters. And one of them, our eldest, has taken it to another level this season through her involvement in her high school varsity ultimate frisbee team. I have only played “ultimate” a couple of times, and very informally, in my lifetime. Growing up in the Midwest US, this was not “a thing” the way that it is here in the northeast. And it turns out that at the high school level in this community, it is taken quite seriously and is played with great skill. Having said that, the culture and success of the ultimate frisbee boys’ team here has been particularly striking in that it seems so different from what one usually thinks about in terms of high performance athletics. The more I have learned and experienced this current high school ultimate frisbee season, especially in the context of these times, the more I have appreciated what is happening right under my nose, forall that it gives to the teenagers involved and would seem to offer a mainstream culture hurting for lack of alternative ways of being, well, more human(e), especially in adolescent and competitive contexts.
My oldest daughter, Annabel, also plays varsity volleyball, which takes up a lot of her time in the fall. When she got involved in frisbee during the spring, one of the first things I noticed was her overall upbeat attitude and holistic appreciation for her teammates and the ultimate culture. “There just isn’t much drama,” Annabel explained to me at one point, “and people are really kind, supportive and frankly mature.” In a sense, ultimate to her is not just a sport, but a way of life. She went on to explain how in ultimate games there are no referees, that players take responsibility for calling fouls and then talking it out if there are any differences of perspective. I’ve witnessed this a number of times in games and have been impressed that even when there is clearly tension and disagreement, the players manage to work it through – some beautiful self-organization and respectful confrontation/ fierce civility on display!
I also came to appreciate early on in this recently completed spring season, the joy-full, heartfelt, and creative expression that comes up during and around games. After one memorable game, the two competing teams sang songs they had composed to one another, conveying appreciation for the adversary. In another case, after one team scored, the other team gave them a standing ovation as a salute to the level of play and skillfulness on display. In a recent tournament finale, the boys’ team was down a couple of points with not much time remaining and called a timeout. Instead of getting down on one another or into a heated strategic conversation, they played music and engaged in a playful dance circle for a couple of minutes, then went on to win the game. And when someone accidentally hurts someone else during play, they make sure to stay engaged with the injured person, showing genuine care and making sure the person gets the support they need.
The camaraderie and respect on display is really remarkable. The boys’ and girls’ teams come to one another’s games and cheer each other on. “You just don’t see this in other sports at the school,” says Annabel. Each time someone scores from either team there is an outburst of celebration from whoever is cheering from the sideline. If someone makes a mistake on the field they are supported by players on and off the field, and the invitation is for everyone to move on. It is not unusual to see the boys come together in a game to hold hands and take a deep breath together to gather themselves, and for both teams to engage in a mindful moment before a game. Annabel says to me, “We genuinely love each other and enjoy being with one another.” This shows and comes through time spent outside of practice and games building relationships and rapport, including through community service projects. (the most recent being at the local survival center).
There is also a core element of mindful inclusion and paying attention to privilege. The boys’ team recently made the decision not to go to a “by invitation only” national conference because of its exclusivity and tendency to only include mostly white teams and privileged schools. The girls’ team, in light of its multi-racial make-up, has had open conversations about anti-racism and anti-sexism. And there has been an attempt to create across programs an authentic and welcoming community for LGBTQ+ team members, including an open embrace of trans athletes.
One last point worth making. There is a very mature invitation by members of the ultimate teams to take personal responsibility and, as Annabel explains it, “focus on controllables, not uncontrollables.” In other words, to enact the serenity prayer, knowing when to push for change and when to let go and just flow with what is. I can see how this is impacting my daughter and her teammates in a time that begs for this kind of discernment.
In a world that can seem at times so unmoored, this spring ultimate frisbee season and the remarkable leadership of these local teens has given me hope for the present and future.
As you review the framework, would you share your responses to the questions below in the comments?
What does it bring up for you?
Where do you find yourself focusing your thinking and efforts?
What might you want to explore, start, continue or further develop, or stop doing in any of the stages?How does the framework help you prioritize and perhaps find empowering areas for action and partnership?
As you navigate the complex times of COVID-19 and racial uprising, consider what it would take to transition through these four dimensions, what needs to be in place, what is already in place, and what we need to reimagine and rebuild.
1 – In the Trauma Dimension: How are we responding to the impact of trauma from COVID, racism, and other shocks?
Racial Equity & Justice:
Are we removing racialized barriers to emergency resources?
Are we using a racial equity impact analysis tool to understand and evaluate our response? Even when we feel rushed?
Are we recognizing deep racial harm in our organization and networks?
Collaboration:
Are we pausing and engaging in quick and meaningful stakeholder engagement to guide our responses and ensure less harm?
Are we attending to both relationships and results as we carry out our work?
Love:
Are we acting and responding with humility, empathy, and transparency?
Are we practicing presence and accountability?
Networks:
Are we connecting with diverse networks to gather and share information and foster flows to address critical needs?
2 – In the Reckoning Dimension: How are we grappling with deep distress and the reality of shifting resources? How are we embracing racial uprisings for change? How are we embracing uncertainty?
Racial Equity & Justice:
Are we acknowledging inequities revealed by crisis?
Are we acting to undo the racialized impacts of our actions?
How are we recognizing the leadership of Black people and what are the lessons for our organizations?
Are we engaged in transparent and collaborative decision-making?
Are we facilitating conversations and activities to face the pain and opportunity of this crisis, our potential power together to make change, while also planning for next steps?
Love:
Are we embracing where people are? Their feelings, conditions, perspectives?
Are we modeling vulnerability as a sign of strength?
Are we exploring the reality through the lens of love and possibility?
Networks:
Are we setting strategic direction with critical partners?
Are we listening for and following the ideas of BIPOC communities (Black, Indigenous, people of color)?
3 – In the Healing Dimension: How are we creating the conditions for healing and well-being?
Racial Equity & Justice:
Are we supporting BIPOC people and communities to move through trauma, grief and anger toward joy?
Are white people leaning into discomfort, trauma and pain, and working that through with other white allies?
Collaboration:
Are we generating and living into community care guidelines to support self-care and collective well-being?
Are we designing and facilitating in ways that allow people to process holistically – intellectually, physically, emotionally, and spiritually?
Love:
Are we convening grounding conversations that allow for brave space, emotions, and truth sharing?
Are we offering resources for healing modalities?
Are we acknowledging all paths to healing?
Are we meeting pain with action and redistributing power and resources?
Networks:
Are we deepening networks and attending to flows of resources that create healing and well-being for people?
Are we setting up more distributive structures focusing on regenerative flows of resources of many kinds?
4 – In the Transformative Futures Dimension: How are we envisioning and living into equitable and resilient futures?
Racial Equity & Justice:
Are we pivoting from supremacist and extractive practices to what is liberating and life-honoring?
Collaboration:
Are we facilitating leaders to envision and invest in equitable and resilient futures?
Love:
Are we encouraging building futures from the lessons of love, possibility, and shared humanity?
Networks:
Are we fostering a new level of learning, sustainability, innovation and radical collaboration with people and our planet?
Are we focusing on systems change and building long-term movement?
