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We are living through so many transitions in the nonprofit sector, as with elsewhere in the world. People are leaving long-held roles, teams are shrinking, and organizations are rethinking how they survive in a time when everything, from funding to trust, is shifting. The sector is being reshaped in real time.
And while the headlines often focus on who’s leaving or what’s being lost, I’m starting to believe that change doesn’t have to feel like loss. It can also be an act of love if we approach them with care.
Leaving Well Is a Form of Leadership
After nearly 13 years at IISC, I’m in my own big transition. I’ve been thinking a lot about how to leave in a way that feels honest, grounded, and caring – for myself and for the people I’ve worked alongside. And, my cheerleader self is on full display this fall.
When a key leader departs or several staff members move on, the focus often lands on logistics: files, budgets, and inboxes. But the deeper work is emotional and relational. My own “transitional hygiene,” as my colleagues call it, has been equal parts planning, presence, and cheerleading. I’m handing off pieces of my job to other current colleagues as we are not re-hiring for my role (budget constraints!). What keeps bubbling up is how caring and skilled my colleagues are. So it is cheerleading in the best sense – not some false “rah, rah, you can do this” but rather a deeply grounded sense that others can master the spreadsheets and the tasks and that, in fact, they will bring fresh eyes and ideas to the table. They will improve on my contributions and leadership.
That realization has been healing. Instead of feeling like I’m disappearing, I feel like I’m passing something on.
How to Make Transitions Healthier for Everyone
In the nonprofit world, we often treat leadership changes like crises to be managed instead of opportunities to grow collective capacity. But what if, without being Pollyanna-ish about it, transitions were seen as opportunities for renewal?
Whether it’s one person leaving or major shifts or an organizational closure, here are some practices I’ve leaned into:
Start with care, not checklists. Before diving into to-do lists, take a breath together. Acknowledge what’s changing and what’s hard about it. That small moment of grounding makes everything else easier.
Document, but don’t dump. When you hand things off, don’t just send a pile of folders. Share the story behind the work – why certain choices were made, what relationships need care, and what you’ve learned along the way. In fact, ask what files might no longer be needed and when it’s more important to offer a frame than a set of to-dos, which really need updating anyway.
Honor relationships and the work you have done. Tell people what you’ve valued about working with them. It sounds simple, but it builds connection and confidence when the ground feels shaky. In a meeting about one of our most significant clients over the last ten years, after tactical sharing about relationships and ideas, we waxed for 20 minutes about how meaningful the work was/is, how awesome it is to see change in the direction of racial equity in a large system/network, and how much we enjoy being together as a team.
Build continuity into culture. Cross-train regularly. Share leadership. Make sure that knowledge lives in the community, not in one person’s inbox.
Grieve. Leave time for where you and others feel grief and loss. In not skirting by this, you are building strength and connection into the system.
Celebrate and mean it. It turns out that when you take time and celebrate others, they want to do the same for you. Genuine appreciation creates confidence, which creates continuity. In my transition meetings, I say, with real belief, that I know they will elevate the work to another realm.
A Transition Toolkit for Nonprofits
Here are some things I’ve found useful in my own transition and in supporting others through theirs:
Transition Documentation: Outline key processes, relationships, and decision criteria. Use plain language like “what future me would want to know.” Reflection Template: Ask departing staff: “What have you learned? What unfinished questions remain? What advice would you give your successor?” Peer Learning Check-Ins: Pair departing and remaining team members to share context, insights, and gratitude. It’s not just about transferring work, but sharing wisdom. Onboarding Continuity: Build onboarding systems that emphasize culture, not just compliance. How do new staff learn who you are as an organization? Celebration Rituals: Closing circles, storytelling sessions, or shared meals mark endings with gratitude. They reinforce the community even through change.
The Real Legacy of Leadership
At its heart, leadership transition is an act of trust. Trust that others will hold the mission. Trust that the organization will evolve. Trust that letting go can be a form of contribution. When we treat transitions as part of the work rather than an interruption of it, we open the door to institutional renewal. And, we create room for new leadership in expected and unexpected places, in ways that many of us profess to do. It is true that Facilitative Leadership™ makes room for others to shine and lead. So here’s to every cheerleader holding the pom-poms of purpose right now. May we all leave and arrive with care, courage, and celebration.
How does your organization mark transitions? What would it take to make change a source of renewal instead of fear?
Author’s Note
From Miriam Messinger: In my experience, it is hard to end well: to feel good about oneself and one’s contributions, to shift work to others, and to know that you are leaving folks well set up. After nearly 13 years at IISC, I’ve learned that the heart of a healthy transition isn’t about perfection but about presence, celebration, and trust. This piece is both a love letter to my colleagues and an invitation to the broader field: let’s model the kind of endings that make new beginnings possible. I’m happy to be part of a great ending for me at IISC.
Ready to Lead Through Transition with Care?
Whether your organization is preparing for a leadership handoff, restructuring, or renewal, IISC can help you design processes that honor both people and purpose. We’ll help you build clarity, continuity, and culture in times of change so you can move forward with confidence and care.
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Over the past 32 years, Interaction Institute for Social Change has supported thousands of leaders, hundreds of organizations, and dozens of networks to navigate challenges and build diverse collaborative power. We have done this in rural, suburban, and urban communities, in this country and around the world. Between the two of us, we have seen a lot, dealt with many different scenarios and situations, and worked with an incredible variety of people and groups. All that said, over the past several years, we have faced an increasingly “perfect storm” of forces that have deeply challenged us, and on some days have left us feeling overwhelmed. These are truly extraordinary times, and they call for extraordinary habits.
At a recent gathering of sustainable agriculture advocates and new economy thinkers, someone made the point that while we may not know what is coming next, this is a good time to develop these habits. In considering this some more, we started thinking about this time of “in-between” and “not yet” as an opportunity to develop stronger transitional hygiene: the small, sustaining practices that keep us healthy, grounded, and connected as the world shifts around us.
What seems clear is that regardless of what is coming our way, there is a set of practices that will benefit ourselves as well as others, foster stronger social connections, promote community well-being, and prepare us for the future.
Here are some of the habits that have helped us and the leaders we work with stay steady and open through uncertainty:
Curtis’s Seven Habits
Take care of ourselves: As they say on planes, put your own oxygen mask on first. It is difficult to be of service and support to others if we always think of others first and ourselves last.
Be kind and generous towards others: This is key to creating a sense of abundance and possibility. Without grace for others and ourselves, we can get caught in a spiral of doubt, anger, and grief.
Stay connected to what really nourishes us: Whether it is spending time with family, friends, a pet, walking in the woods, taking a bath, staying hydrated, or eating good food, staying grounded can keep our nervous systems from letting fear rule the day.
Get out of our bunkers/silos and engage with others, including across differences: Isolation can be a killer of our spirits, our creativity, and our hope. We will each have our own sense of what the right amount of connection is, and with whom/what.
Cultivate playfulness and curiosity: In times of seeming contraction, if we shrink too much, we can lose sight of the larger world. Sometimes it can be helpful to say to ourselves, “Step back. Step back again. What do I see now?” This can also be a good time to try new things, keeping in mind that through contractions, there can be birth.
Keep a healthy sense of humor and humility: Those who laugh, last. And they tend to have a better time, no matter the circumstances. Also, remember, we don’t know the full story. Our view is ALWAYS partial and limited, and influenced by our mood. So much remains hidden. What aren’t we seeing, including supports and new paths forward?
Commit to ongoing learning: This is how our species has survived this long and made it through some really rough patches. And it is especially helpful when we share what we are learning with and seek this out in others!
Kelly’s Seven Habits
Lean into your devotion: In times like these, don’t drown in the to-do list and tasks. Unlock your passion for your work and the people who are around you. Dedicate yourself to the bigger picture – what’s actually going to move us forward, you forward, and dive in with your fierce love and commitment. If it’s not moving you, find what is. A public health leader, Carlene Pavlos, shared that we must approach everything we do with “commitment to love and emotion.” Without it, we’ll be empty, used up, and isolated.
Tap in. Tap out: It’s tiring to breathe in the politics of this moment and work with fewer resources. Cross-train staff and create redundancies and shared leadership so that people can tap in and out of duties and leadership. Tapping in looks like taking on more leadership and projects when we have energy and time, so others can rest and renew. Tapping out looks like removing things from our plate, taking time off, and sabbaticals before burnout sets in.
Be ready to keep unraveling: It won’t be like this forever, and we can expect more challenges and shocks ahead. Accept change as the natural order of things, and normalize for yourself that each hour and day may feel different and require a different resource. When the culture and electoral shifts occur, be prepared to undo the damage and create anew, together.
Contribute to and support your culture: Move through anger and fear (or let them move through you/us) so we can be good to each other and generate good ideas.
Ask for help and ask again: Consider your friend, family, personal, and professional networks. Your relationships and resources are sturdier than you know. Expand your circles – new connections await!
Persist through contraction: Even if our organizations get smaller, we can still be mighty and effective by doing what we do best, and connecting to the rest.
Stop when you can’t move another step: Don’t force yourself past exhaustion or get caught spinning in fear. Stop moving your body and mind, listen to the silence, and see what messages, ideas, and decisions are trying to find you.
These habits are how we stay human in inhuman times – small, steady practices that keep collaboration alive when the world feels uncertain.
How about you? What good habits are you cultivating now, for the short and long-term? And what are you hearing from others? Please share your thoughts with us!
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Every movement for justice has faced backlash. The abolitionists felt it. So did the suffragists and the leaders of the Civil Rights era. Today, organizations advancing racial justice, equity, and DEI are navigating a new wave of political attacks, censorship, and intimidation. The stakes are rising fast.
In this Nonprofit Quarterly feature, IISC President Kelly Frances Bates and Robert Wood Johnson Foundation Vice President Fiona Kanagasingam lay out a framework for how justice-rooted organizations can respond with courage, solidarity, and organized power. They explore the spectrum of responses emerging across the field, from compliance and silence to pragmatic adaptation and bold collective action.
As the authors write, “Courage is contagious. Seeing others wield it helps us build our own.” Their message is clear: while the work is under attack, it is not illegal, and this moment calls us to deepen our commitment, not pull back.
For organizations, funders, and networks alike, this article is both a reality check and a roadmap. It asks: Where do you fall on the spectrum? What risks can you take to protect equity work under threat? And how can we act in solidarity so that the most vulnerable are not left to carry the heaviest burdens alone?
“We will all be worse off and concede too much if we think we can ‘wait out the storm.’ Rather, we can organize within and across institutions to build power. We can work together, in small and big ways, to create courageous actions that can be replicated throughout our communities and our country.“
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In our last blog post, we reflected on network weaving as “light work” – the gentle, steadfast practices of connection that counter fear and isolation. We drew on teachings from the Brahma Kumaris and Father Richard Rohr to remind ourselves that while the noise of destruction is loud, the quiet tending of seeds can be even more powerful. We named how fear, misinformation, and division are being used to fracture communities, and how networks can serve as lanterns in the dark, offering warmth, clarity, direction, and care.
That first reflection highlighted a simple truth: networks are not just technical structures or professional associations. They are living systems of relationships. When woven with love, they can help us break out of isolation, amplify what matters most, and remember that the light is always present, in and around us, even when circumstances try to convince us otherwise.
Networks are most powerful not only when they respond to crises, but when they sustain possibility, care, and connection in everyday life. In our recent webinar, we explored how weaving relationships can be both practical and profoundly spiritual work, fueling resilience, amplifying joy, and keeping us tethered to what matters most. Our guests, Noel Didla and Keith Bergthold, shared powerful examples of weaving connections, sharing resources, and bringing light and love to places that might surprise you.
In conversations leading up to that session and since, we’ve been naming the everyday choices that sustain this kind of work: how we listen, how we show up, how we keep one another tethered to what matters most. So this follow-up offers a closer look at these practices that many of us are already experimenting with or longing to deepen. They are often small and simple, yet when repeated and shared across networks, they generate warmth, resilience, and joy.
Here are some of the practices that have come to mind and heart:
Collective Action & Mutual Care
Doing mutual aid work
Facilitating restorative circle work
Banding together with others to defend those who are most vulnerable
Protecting our leaders (including protecting them from themselves)
Keeping in mind “excess” resources/capacity and offering to others
Practices of Wellbeing & Connection
Holding space with loving intention
Sharing the appreciations we have for one another
Seeing one another and reflecting back our strengths and values
Engaging in dialogue while holding complexity and not devolving to blame
Care-full listening to ourselves, others, and the more-than-human world
Respecting and savoring both silence and stillness
Inner Work & Growth
Grounding ourselves deeply in a sense of humility
Remembering not to take ourselves too seriously and being willing to laugh
Practicing gratitude and forgiveness (for/of ourselves, others, the universe)
Doing our own “shadow work” so that we are not projecting on others
Doing “bridging work” rather than defaulting to “breaking” behaviors
Setting loving boundaries to keep from being overwhelmed
Staying curious and always eager to learn
Spiritual & Cultural Wisdom
Extending the teachings of elders to these times and our specific places
Remembering and honoring our more-than-human kin
Expressing awe and wonder about … everything
Taking time to step back and look at the bigger picture
Living like you believe a more beautiful world is possible
Keeping focused on the higher goal of your work/life
Loving without any good reason
These practices can become that much more powerful through what Grace Lee Boggs once called “the invisible fabric of our connectedness.”
Which of these speak to you?
What might you add?
Want to learn more about the power of networks? Join us for Feeding Ourselves: Networks, Data and Policy for Just and Sustainable Food Systems, a live webinar on October 30, 2025, from 12 – 2 pm ET. Register here.
This post was originally published on August 8, 2022, and updated on June 30, 2025.
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“The times are urgent, let us slow down.” Bayo Akomolafe, The Emergence Network
Words and images have incredible power to shape reality. One self-image I still have to shed is seeing myself as “workhorse,” always pushing forward, rather than “show pony,” allowed to pause, shine, and simply be.” In the early days of the pandemic, as IISC wrestled with what contribution we could make, I had to temper my desire to move quickly with a sober assessment of our actual human capacity. Even now, on any given day, our team – and the staff and volunteers practically everywhere I turn – ranges from sick, exhausted, and overwhelmed to joyful, optimistic in the midst of it all, and eagerly seeking new possibilities. I continue to remind myself that we can only go as fast as we can go, even if that doesn’t seem fast enough given the conditions around us.
Therein lies the struggle. The work of making a better, more just world IS urgent. People are paying with their lives every day because of the way our society is constructed. Take health as an example. Healthcare is a for-profit industry, and the profit motive drives who gets treated, what kinds of treatments are approved or even exist, and what unhealthy conditions are allowed to persist. Access to healthcare is granted mostly as a privilege to people with certain jobs, rather than to all people as a human right. People are dying every day because of this. Getting care to people who need it most – people who are unhoused, and/or unemployed, disabled, elderly, or otherwise unable to participate in the paid labor force – is urgent. At the same time, we have to devote attention to the necessary, long-term work of building political will and shifting the political system in the direction of making healthcare a human right. Otherwise, we’ll be forever doing the urgent work of helping people on the margins to survive. As our friends in public health remind us, we have to “get upstream” to stop the “flow” of people who need urgent support that the system doesn’t provide.
Generations of warriors for justice have taught us that the struggle for justice is costly and urgent. In my earliest days of political formation, my mentors argued (sometimes explicitly and sometimes by example) that I didn’t deserve a good night’s sleep or many creature comforts because people were suffering and dying every day due to racism and poverty. This led me to an unhealthy kind of self-denial and overwork. While my group members saw me as productive and committed, in the eyes of some folks who I was both critiquing and attempting to recruit, I appeared unbearably self-righteous and absolutely no fun to be around.
This posture didn’t win over a lot of new people to our way of thinking, and it ingrained in me a habit of ignoring my own needs that has been extremely hard to break. While I can say with conviction to others that “self-care isn’t selfish” and “it’s essential to find joy amid struggle,” I still have trouble taking my advice sometimes. I’m making progress, though it’s slow! I still hold onto this quote from George Bernard Shaw: “I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work, the more I live. I rejoice in life for its own sake. Life is no ‘brief candle’ to me. It is sort of a splendid torch which I have a hold of for the moment, and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it over to future generations.”
One thing I find striking and encouraging about the current generation of racial justice activists is their explicit focus on wholeness, healing, belonging, and restoration – think of emergent strategy, the cultivation of Black Joy, and the work of healing justice, to name just a few. We are beginning to recognize that we can’t do any of this necessary and urgent work at the expense of people and relationships. And I think we still have a long way to go.
If we want to make change at the scale of an entire society and beyond, we have to find new ways and rediscover ancient ways of doing the urgent work of survival AND the urgent work of structural change. And we have to find ways of doing both that don’t exhaust and exploit the people doing that work, and that make space for new, more beautiful ways of being together. At IISC, as we take up this challenge and offer what we can share, I’m trying to remain vigilant so that a sober assessment of the urgent need for justice doesn’t push me toward dominant-culture ways of pressing beyond the capacity of our human community.
How are you replacing a dominating sense of urgency with an appropriate sense of urgency that honors and cares for people?
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“When the music is strong, the movement is strong.” – Harry Belafonte
In these times when justice is under attack, truth feels fragile, and hope can flicker, it’s culture that keeps us rooted and reaching. As Harry Belafonte reminded us, movements aren’t only built in boardrooms or shaped by policy. They’re born in the heartbeat of community, in the songs we sing, the stories we carry, the rituals we repeat.
Culture is more than expression, it’s resistance. It’s how we remember who we are and imagine what’s possible.
When culture is strong – when art pulses through our organizing, when dance and drums and poetry pour into our protests and planning – our movements for justice are stronger, deeper, more alive. Culture is not decoration. It’s the fire and the fuel.
At IISC, we’re building a living “culture bank”: a collection of music, performances, artwork, and creative expressions that move us and ground us. This is a love letter to the songs that keep us steady, the paintings that call us forward, the practices that tether us to lineage, land, and liberation. Here are some examples:
Staceyann Chin reads The Low Road by Marge Piercy
“This poem by Marge Piercy is a celebration of what is possible when we work and imagine collectively. It acknowledges the strength found not in fleeting moments of glory, but in the consistent, shared labor that builds a better world. It suggests that liberation isn’t a solitary ascent but a collective journey taken together, brick by humble brick, grounded in the profound significance of everyday acts of creation and connection.
Staceyann Chin’s reading emphasizes the power of collective action against oppression and underscores the poem’s central message: while an individual may feel powerless, the impact ripples exponentially when we expand our idea of solidarity.”
Image Description: Illustration of a younger and older woman seated with eyes closed, their long hair flowing together. The older woman reaches out gently, symbolizing ancestral connection. A hummingbird hovers above, with a glowing moon in the background. By Soni López-Chávez.
“As a detribalized Indigenous Mexican, I find deep resonance in the work of Soni López-Chávez, not just in what she creates, but in how and why she creates. Her journey reflects the fragmentation and reclamation so many of us carry: navigating life between nations, languages, and legacies that colonialism tried to sever.
Her art is a bridge across the rift of displacement, an offering, a reclamation, a mirror. Through her work, I see my reflection, a powerful reminder that I am my ancestors’ wildest dreams and that the path of remembrance and reimagining is not only possible but necessary!”
– Shared by Sandra Herrera, IISC Communications & Marketing Manager
“This performance from Usha Jey inspires me to dream, to celebrate fusion, and to remember cross-BIPOC solidarity. As an artist, Usha is so committed to her craft. And as she says, ‘the aim is to keep the essence of each dance and create something that does justice to who I am.'”
We invite you to join us in building this culture bank. What music holds you when the work gets heavy? What art cracks you open and calls you forward? What rituals or rhythms help you remember what you’re fighting for?
Because when the culture is strong, the movement is unstoppable.
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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 commentApril 2, 2025
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“Food for us comes from our relatives, whether they have wings or fins or roots. That is how we consider food. Food has a culture. It has a history. It has a story. It has relationships.”
Winona LaDuke
This past week, I had the opportunity to co-create and curate with my colleague Karen Spiller the first ever “food justice track” for the national conference hosted by The Privilege Institute (TPI) in Hartford, Connecticut. TPI has long been committed to helping people understand the systems of supremacy and oppression that continue to harm and marginalize growing numbers of people and our more-than-human kin, and to supporting “solutionizing” our way forward through diverse collaborations. As participants in and presenters at past TPI conferences, and as co-stewards of the Food Solutions New England’s Network’s equity leadership efforts, Karen and I were grateful to be invited by TPI founder Dr. Eddie Moore, Jr. to host this track on food systems and what they have to do with just, sustainable and thriving communities. And we are very thankful for the generous financial support provided by the RWJF Special Contributions Fund of the Princeton Area Community Foundation for this work.
Our track featured five sessions intended to ground people in historical and current impacts of efforts to control food, land and water in establishing caste systems and hierarchies of human value, as well as to highlight more humane, dignified and eco-logical alternatives for our collective food future. Our flow of offerings included workshops focused on:
“The Love Ethic” and Work for Food Justice, facilitated by Karen Spiller and yours truly under the auspices of both Food Solutions New England and the Interaction Institute for Social Change.
Right Relationship Across Race, Ethnicity, Gender, Class, Age, Geography and Sectors, hosted by Noel Didla and Liz Broussard Red of the Center for Mississippi Food Systems.
For a larger version of this food systems map, go to this link.
“If you really want to make a friend, go to someone’s house and eat with them. The people who give you their food give you their heart.”
Cesar Chavez
There was a lot of engaged discussion in and across the sessions, and a common commitment to creating spaces that could hold complexity and honor the multiplicity of our individual and collective selves (one definition we offer for “love”). Along the way, what surfaced was the power of focusing on food to help people understand more about where we are as communities, a country and world, and how we might move forward together. A few related reflections:
Appreciation was expressed in several sessions for helping participants understand food as a system. For even considerably educated people, the complex networks that bring food to our plates can remain largely invisible. Whether we are talking about farm/fisheries inputs, production, aggregation, processing, distribution, eating, or resource recapture, there is an amazing and diverse array of players and interactions providing us with our daily meals. This awareness can be empowering and help us understand that the daily choices we make as eaters really matter, and that some of us have fewer choices than others.
In most of our sessions, we invited people to consider and share stories related to food. Our experience is that this is always connective in a number of different ways. As a species we have long had shared stories around meals, such that there is much about eating that can bring to mind memories of various kinds. Through our work with Food Solutions New England, we have been encouraging people to share stories of joy related to food, which anyone can do through this “joy mapping” link. Even when memories around food are painful, feeling seen, validated and perhaps understood when we share them with others who have had similar experiences can be very helpful.
For some people, the notion of “food as medicine” was very eye-opening and inspiring. Nutritious food that is not simply caloric can be a balm for our bodies and spirits. The way we grow food can help heal the Earth, especially when we adopt regenerative approaches, including agroecological techniques. When we share a meal, it can bring us closer to one another and even heal divides or advance respect for and understanding of one another. And because food is intimately linked to culture, when we reconnect with and reclaim our food traditions and share them with others, it can be tremendously restorative.
It was also very eye-opening for people to understand that the dominant food system we have in this country is grounded in a legacy of colonialism, the plantation economy and extractive approaches that have repressed people’s foodways and controlled their diets. This continues today in many rural and urban communities where grocery chains and “dollar stores” owned by those from outside those communities import overly processed foods (bypassing local producers and more nutritious options), offer low-paying jobs often with challenging working conditions and extract profits from those communities. Furthermore, continued consolidation of food-related enterprises means that the rich keep getting richer while everyone else fights for scraps.
“Eating is so intimate. … When you invite someone to sit at your table and you want to cook for them, you’re inviting a person into your life.”
Maya Angelou
The good news is that there is much we can do as eaters, community members, voters and caring people to support food systems that promote equitable wellbeing and connect us to what matters most in life. This is what we pointed to in each of our workshop sessions, and that we will once again do through the annual Food Solutions New England 21-Day Racial Equity Habit Building Challenge, which starts on April 7th and for which IISC has been a core partner since its launch in 2015. The Challenge is free and open to all, and requires registration to receive daily emails and links to many resources focused on how we can build a “bigger we” for the more beautiful world we know is possible. There are also opportunities to be in virtual community with others participating in the Challenge. You can find more information here.
P.S. We have been invited to replicate and expand the food justice track at next year’s TPI Conference in Seattle, Washington. Stay tuned for more updates.
“Food is strength, food is peace, and food is freedom.“
John F. Kennedy
Want to learn more about the power of networks? Join us for Feeding Ourselves: Networks, Data and Policy for Just and Sustainable Food Systems, a live webinar on October 30, 2025, from 12 – 2 pm ET. Register here.
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.
“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.
