A Note on Funding Women of Color Movement Leaders to Pause
Five years ago, I interviewed thirty-nine Black women movement leaders in Milwaukee, Wisconsin about their self-care practices. As a Black woman movement leader, this research was informed by my own search for wellness. The interview questions I crafted invited respondents to dive deep into personal narratives of care that were passed down to them by aunties, mamas, and grannies. Additionally, the interview questions provided space for respondents to reflect on, and share, how they practiced self-care alongside their movement work.
Two self-care practices that emerged from across class, sexual orientation, or other identifiers, was the need for movement leaders to pause and be supported in pausing.
For some respondents, pausing looked like stopping–just stopping long enough to take deep breaths, stopping long enough to really reflect on what they needed to be their best activist selves, and stopping long enough to rest. Every person I spoke with agreed that unplugging from work, taking breaks, and relaxing were important care practices to help them rejuvenate from — and for — movement work.
Pause and support in pausing seemed like easy self-care practices, and so I wondered what obstacles prevented movement leaders from practicing more of this type of care. And, so I asked. I found that movement leaders interviewed were engaged in the exhausting work traditionally assigned to Black women leaders (emotional labor + delaying personal gratification), and they were expected to never pause.
Two dangerous culprits were driving the narrative that movement leaders were somehow immune to burnout. The first was a culture of martyrdom, which discourages movement leaders from prioritizing their own emotional and mental health. The other is the Strong Black Woman trope, which is rooted in the enslavement of African women and perpetuates a caricature of Black women as “superheroes” who can do it all, with no help or support.
How many of our “superheroes” have we seen taking a break in any of the Universes superheroes reside? Not many that I can point to.
Together, the culture of martyrdom and the Strong Black Woman trope not only burns out our precious movement leaders but also immobilizes our very movements built to liberate us all; this ultimately gets in the way of achieving collective liberation.
This means that no one is getting free as long as our movement leaders are unsupported and expected to be the energizer bunny until they succumb to burnout.
Movement leaders are brilliant, capable, and fighting against these dangerous narratives by stepping into a bold new direction of prioritizing themselves. Many are in fact living the dream of our dear ancestor, Audre Lorde, who was a Black lesbian, mama, warrior, and poet who gifted us the affirmation that “caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.” Caring for ourselves and each other is an act of political warfare and it also challenges barriers to our overall well-being.
To understand the well-being of contemporary movement leaders, I often look to Black women leaders of the past to gain a deeper awareness of the struggles Black women have navigated in this country, and the strides they have made when centering their care.
Spelman College houses the archives of Black women writer-activists such as Toni Cade Bambara, Cheryl Clarke, The Combahee River Collective, and many others. Some of the themes that I connected most deeply with while pouring through personal letters and notes, were vulnerability and Black women’s connection and dedication to one another.
Care –both self and collective–is personal for me. Reading the letters of activists from the 1970s and 1980s and reflecting on my research gives me so much hope for our movements. It also provides insight into how funders are in a unique position to level up their support of women of color movement leaders. This evolved support includes financial resources for rest, staff retreats, and paying people not to work, but instead to pause.
Support and resources for those who shepherd our movements is a path to liberation that we must continue to deeply examine and put money behind.
Looking into the archives of movement leaders like those who edited Triple Jeopardy–the 1971–1975 newspaper published by the Third World Women’s Alliance–reveals a long tradition of movement leaders sharing that they are exhausted, overworked, underpaid, and in need of more support.
This long tradition of women of color movement leaders also illuminates how contemporary leaders are looking to work for freedom in ways that do not take years off of their lives.
Movement leaders are in need of support and to be able to pause, and rest as we build the lives we invision for ourselves and our communities. That looks like being able to be present with our loved ones, taking time off when we need it and when we want it, and taking naps during the day for starters.
Supporting bold leadership that centers on healing, care, and rest is the move that funders should take if they want to see shifts in our movement work. Funding pausing not only drives creativity to solve the issues we face in this democracy, but it also can prevent burnout, end the culture of martyrdom, and create new models of leadership.
I am inviting funders to fund our movement in slowing down so that we can breathe together as a movement and step more powerfully into our vision for ourselves, our communities, organizations, and the world.
What other movement leaders have shared with me over the years is that when they can take a break, and get support in taking a break, when they have the resources they need to live fuller lives, they are more dedicated to movement struggle, more aligned with the values of their organization, more strategic, and better and bolder leaders.
The self-care practices that were shared with me by movement leaders I interviewed included gardening, exercise, time to rest, just being present, and dancing. Imagine if those same activists, regardless of affiliation with an organization, were financially supported by funders to garden, nap, do nothing, dance, and retreat not as a way to do more, but to just be with themselves and each other. Imagine supporting leaders to do their best work, by also supporting the organizations they manage with care funds.
What do you imagine would happen?
I imagine more joy and well-being in the workplace, movement leaders feeling well resourced and supported to lead their organizations towards well-being. I imagine more wins and celebrations. And a truly sustainable movement that recognizes that its greatest resource is the people who lead the organizations, who testify, who are members, who organize marches, and knock on doors.
For funders, what is your role in supporting leaders and organizations? And, how can you do both? We know that too often funders solely fund leaders, but we need funders to continue to fund leaders AND support organizations. This way, we create new traditions of supporting our movements as we work on getting free.
To funders who are already supporting our movement to prioritize care, thank you. I invite you to increase your support for the movement and movement leaders. To funders who are looking for ways to support the movement becoming more sustainable, you can create grant-making opportunities to fund rest, retreats, and coaching for those who need it most.
I want to close here with a quote from exiled freedom fighter Assata Shakur, she affirms that “it is our duty to fight for our freedom. It is our duty to win. We must love each other and support each other. We have nothing to lose but our chains.”
