We all tell ourselves stories. We do it to fill in the gaps, to make things make sense, and to reach a deeper understanding. I want to go out on a limb and argue that there is a story most nonprofit leaders tell themselves, usually without questioning it.
If you have been living your life as a woman – or have been socialized as a woman – in the United States, particularly a woman of color, *and* are a nonprofit leader, this is probably part of the air you’ve been breathing for a long time.
My mom called it delayed gratification, and she tried to teach it to me growing up. My friends and I used to celebrate it as we humble-bragged about who was working the longest or who was the most exhausted on a given day or week.
So what the heck is it?
The story goes like this: If I work hard enough to help other people, then I will eventually get to a point where I can take care of myself, take a vacation, relax, and prioritize my own well-being.
You have probably heard it in glib phrases like, “I’ll rest when I’m dead.”
In the U.S., we revere this.
We celebrate it.
From women, we expect it.
I was the Vice President at The Women’s Media Center for a few years and had the ridiculous privilege of working closely with one of the founders, Gloria Steinem. She used to say that if it stopped for one hour, one day, the whole system would come tumbling down. It = women’s caretaking.
Finding myself at a place where I am caring for a seven-year-old daughter and a 75-year-old mother-in-law, I agree with Steinem. Our caretaking is the invisible, undervalued, but completely expected, glue that holds it all together.
So, now, let’s add the nonprofit piece. In my own journey as a nonprofit leader for over two decades, as the CEO of the Nonprofit Leadership Lab, and as a coach of leaders, I get to meet so many incredible leaders working for incredible causes. They want to end suffering, to correct injustice, and to build a world where all are free, healthy, and safe.
And yet when you peel back a layer or that do-gooder package, you are very likely to find a person who is working (overworking) to get those things for other people and NOT, or even at the expense of, themselves.
There are so many wise and incredible women and nonbinary people of color who have seen this, tried to warn us about it, and sought to teach us a different way. Ai-Jen Poo and her care agenda, Tricia Hershey, who runs the subversively powerful “Nap Ministry,” and Prentis Hemphill (they/them), who argues persuasively that we cannot heal the world without healing ourselves, to name a few.
I suspect that many of us come up with our own unique blend of why we must do this. We must work hard to put others first and ourselves second. For me, as a white woman, my story goes something like this… “Hey, I’m white, I have not faced anything like what Black, Indigenous, People of Color have faced. I should work harder, longer to try and reverse the harm and suffering my ancestors have caused.”
The problem with this logic is that it’s a lie. You can work so hard for so long, and there is a really good chance you will never reach the point when you come first. If this year has taught me anything, it’s that this life, this work, the change we seek is a marathon, maybe even an ultra marathon, not a sprint, and if we leaders want to last, we have got to start caring for ourselves while caring for others.
We may say, you have to put your oxygen mask on first, but how many of us actually do it?
I don’t want this to be just another hard truth we nod along to and then carry on the way we always have. Naming the lie matters, but it also asks something of us. If we’re serious about lasting in this work, we have to practice care now, not as a reward we earn later. Here are a few places to start.
Get an Accountability Buddy
Maybe start small and individual, but please don’t stop there. This is not your fault, nor is it yours alone to fix. So, whether it’s a friend, a family member, or a colleague, find someone with whom you can be honest when they ask, “How are you doing?” Have candid conversations about what you do to take care of yourself, and explicitly give that person permission to check in and make sure you’re doing those things. Support each other in these efforts.
Build a Community of Care
This year, we switched from a large to a small school, and my mother-in-law got very sick. I had to ask for help from people who were brand new to us, as my spouse lived at the hospital in a different state, and I was solely responsible for a small child with big energy, so it was more like the other way around. I needed rides (I do drive, but for her), dinner (I do not cook), play dates (for both of us), and a shoulder to cry on. And you know what, it filled me up with gratitude and hope to see regular folk leaning in to support my family. It made me feel less alone and made me realize that people do care. No question, I will return the favor with this group of people.
Work to Change the System
There are a number of ways you can do this individually and systemically, and I’m happy to say I have been seeing this more in nonprofits. Instead of just assuming that someone’s skills are free for the taking, compensate them if you have the power to do so. Is there a coworker you rely on to translate for clients or community members, but this is not actually part of their job? Pay them for that work. Or, go to a terrific organization like Caring Across Generations and take action.
Perhaps most of all, something we can do is make the invisible, visible. Talk about this, share stories, and seek solutions. The truth is, we cannot work ourselves into rest any more than we can hustle our way into peace. So, let’s tell the truth and start valuing ourselves as much as the people we advocate for.
