Tonight's #YearlongMixtape is super long, and sorry I'm posting a little late, but it's a very very important one to me, so if you read it, thank you!
What Not To Do
“Our biggest movement challenges
really aren't politics, but a failure to treat each other in emotionally just
ways.” – Dr. Brittney Cooper, @ProfessorCrunk
I have debated sharing this story online, and the timing may
seem selfish considering everything that is happening in Baltimore and around
the country. But it’s important
for me to get it out of my system.
A few of you know all of the details. Several of you talked me off the ledge when I was out of my
mind. I was inspired to talk about
it more publicly after seeing Dr. Brittney Cooper’s tweet (which she allowed me
to use for this essay), which perfectly fit the situation.
About four years ago, I left an organization that meant a
great deal to me. I had spent over 10 years – about a third of my life at the
time – involved with the organization in some capacity, as a volunteer, a
grassroots organizer, a staff member briefly, and a board member.
Then, some very bad things happened, and when several staff
members and I (I was Co-Chair of the Board of Directors) tried to figure out
what was going on, we were threatened with a lawsuit and bullied into resigning
or quitting. And the rest of the
organizational leadership basically did nothing constructive about it.
Many lies were told.
Many things were swept under the rug. Many people were hurt.
And I have to live with the fact that, while I didn’t do anything wrong
or unethical, I set in motion events that tried to expose the wrongdoing, and
blew things up. I let down the
people who came to me in confidence because they thought I could do something
about the problem.
For four years, I have often replayed everything that
happened in my head, trying to figure out what I could have done
differently. I’ve tried to figure
out how to get vindication for myself and the others involved. What I haven’t done is let it go. I really tried, and it no longer
consumes my life, but I felt like such a huge injustice had happened that I had
to find a way to fight. Recently,
I realized that four years is long enough to earn another college degree – and
that I have majored in anger and resentment. Maybe this is my dissertation.
I learned a lot from the experience, and in sharing what
happened, I want to focus on those insights. There are eight of them, and I promise they get more hopeful
towards the end. I’m still a
little afraid, so I won’t tell the whole story. But if you really want to know my side of the story, send me
a message and we’ll chat.
1)
The people you look up to might let you down. There were several colleagues with whom
I worked that I really admired and who were mentors to me. Many of them had been in “the movement”
for decades, and appeared to know a lot about nonprofit management, and
grassroots organizing, and all of the things I wanted to learn. I was a sponge and looked to them to
guide me. I deferred to them so
many times when making organizational decisions, because I thought they were
wiser. But when their expertise
and courage were really necessary, they didn’t know what to do. They made excuses. I may never know why they acted in the
way they did. And I was really
hurt by the number of people who didn’t even reach out to me after the dust
settled. I think some of them
might have been lied to about my role in the situation, and may have negatively
judged me or thought I didn’t want to be contacted. Maybe they were embarrassed by what they felt they had to
do. But it still hurts a lot.
2)
The people who tell you to “be professional” are usually the
ones who are being unprofessional.
After the board decided not to take action, I wrote an angry but
professionally-worded letter telling them what a huge mistake they had
made. I told them they were
negligent in their duties. One of
the board members to whom I sent it to review before sending it to the full
board, told me that it sounded like “sour grapes,” and that it wasn’t a good
idea to share with everyone. I was
basically told that I didn’t have the right to tell the truth, or to feel upset
about what had happened. People in
power sometimes try to make you feel bad about yourself so you’ll shut up. This is wrong. Even at personal risk, we have a
responsibility to tell the truth.
3)
The social justice movement has a problem with the –isms. Sexism and racism are alive and well,
even in the “progressive” social justice movement. The thing that is most unbelievable about this entire
situation is that this organization focused on transforming the global economy
to be more fair. This included
acknowledging that women and people of color are most negatively impacted by
poverty. We had (peaceful)
protests and challenged huge international institutions. But when it came time to deal with a
problem within the organization, the those in charge ultimately looked the
other way. All but one of the 6
people who raised concerns were women, and two were women of color. But the board ultimately sided with the
very vocal white man who we questioned.
One individual told me that they felt sorry for the main person in
question because he had a family, but they didn’t care about the women who had
families and who were forced to find other jobs. They couldn’t stand up to an injustice right in front of
them.
4)
Sometimes the bad guys win. I don’t like to believe that anyone is “evil,” but I did try
to understand why the “bad guy” in this situation behaved this way. About two years after this happened, I
read a book that changed my entire perspective. It’s called “The Sociopath Next Door,” by Dr. Martha
Stout. It was recommended to me by
a friend who I talked to about it.
In it, Dr. Stout talks about how prevalent sociopaths are in our
society, how they get away with their behavior, and what we can do about it. My jaw dropped frequently when I read
it, because I could see that we were dealing with a classic sociopath. And everyone’s reaction to his behavior
was typical. Some of us avoided
him when his true nature was exposed.
Others apparently believed his convincing pleas for sympathy and gave
him the benefit of the doubt. The
book helped me understand some causes of sociopath disorder, and explained that
avoidance is the best way to deal with someone like this. It also helped me understand why the
board might have been lenient with him, but it still doesn’t excuse what
happened. Ultimately, sociopaths
don’t lead happy lives, because they can’t. I highly recommend it.
5)
Fear is okay – but don’t let it keep you from doing what is
right. At the time this happened,
I was a month away from graduating from grad school. My involvement with this organization had inspired me to
earn a Master’s Degree. But I was
so intimidated by the threats against me that I ran away. Knowing what I know now, I never would
have resigned from the board. I
would have fought a lot harder to find out what was really going on. Instead, I saw my hoped-for career
flashing before my eyes, and I was afraid I’d lose all of the professional
contacts I’d made. I was afraid
that my reputation would be ruined by lies and I would never find a job. Imagine that – I didn’t do anything
wrong, but I was worried that the person who had done wrong was going to ruin
ME. And guess what? I lost a lot of those contacts anyway,
because I got scared and left.
And, until recently, I couldn’t find a good job. Life is short, but a life of regret is
very long.
6)
You are better than you think. I used to be self-conscious about my involvement with this
organization. I wrote another
essay (for Madonna’s song, “What It Feels Like For A Girl”) about how out of
place I felt at times because some colleagues would judge me for being too
enthusiastic or not polished enough.
What I have learned, though, is that I might not have always been the
smartest or most experienced, but I showed up. I volunteered for the things no one else wanted to do. I learned everything I could about
economic and social justice. I was
more active than any other board member.
I gave up ¾ of my vacation time every year, and countless evenings and
weekends, for many years, to go to meetings and events, when some other members
couldn’t even be bothered to work on a weekend. And I donated so much money to that organization. I now
realize how much wisdom I’ve gained from this experience. I may not always have the answers, but
I know now what NOT to do. At the
time, we didn’t know what we were up against. But I made it through this, and I will not give up when I
feel scared anymore.
7)
You find out who your true friends are. I was overwhelmed with support from
friends who listened to me and offered advice. I have kind of a “Ladies and Gents of the Round Table” who
have listened to me and stood by me at my craziest. The staff members who spoke up are brave and amazing, and I
have so much respect for them. I’m
glad that I remain friends with some of them, and that they were wise and
gracious enough to forgive me. I
don’t know what would have happened if I hadn’t had so many people in my
corner. You know who you are – thank
you.
8)
We are meant for something bigger. At the time that this happened, I was a mess. I couldn’t sleep or eat, and I was so
afraid of retaliation against me, that I stayed at my mom’s house one night,
because the person who we suspected of doing the bad things knew my address. I don’t know that I “mourned” what
happened, but I was depressed because I thought that being in this organization
was the height of what I could achieve in my life. I wanted to be the Executive Director. I wanted to lead the organization, and
change the world, and for people to know my name, and to be respected. But now I don’t think this organization
deserved me or those who spoke up.
Organizations are malleable and are made up of imperfect people. And while I am certainly imperfect, I
think that all of us who tried to make it better are meant for bigger and more
revolutionary things. I don’t yet
know what those things are, but we have survived a really nasty situation, and
we’re all stronger and ready to move forward.
I am now completely fascinated by organizational behavior,
especially how whistleblowers can make a positive change, and what makes people
in organizations act the way they do.
It has made me more passionate about working as a nonprofit consultant,
to find ways to make organizations and the people who do the work better so
they can change the world.
If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading. I don’t expect anything to come from
this, other than wanting to move on.
I can feel the weight lifting already.
As for the song, I couldn’t think of a perfect song to fit
this very strange situation, but I love this Dave Matthews song because it
talks about that weird place where you don’t know where you fit or what you
think you know. And it’s
confusing, and sometimes sad, and you just hope you come out of it okay. I love it so much that, on my Twitter
account, my “location” is “the space between” J
“The space between
Our wicked lies
Is where we hope to keep safe from pain”
#YearlongMixtape
