Trust is consistency built over time.
Trust is consistency built over time.
Back in 2016-ish, I was on a team of analysts evaluating and assessing a range of infrastructure investments and interventions to counter the white supremacist nationalist movement and build durable power for people of color. I was a later addition to the group so for much of the engagement I felt as if I had walked into the middle of the movie and was the annoying person slowing everything down to ask about context or plot. When the time came for my part of the work to get reviewed by the team I was expecting the same but I only really got two questions:
“What would help the most?”
Oh, that’s easy.
Keep showing up.
“How did you get access and we didn’t?”
Oh that’s even easier.
That’s because no one trusts you.
Winning politically is often conflated with counter-movement expertise. One of the most insidious side effects of this dynamic is how crucial community infrastructure is subjected to dehumanizing cycles of fair weather support. It looks like community groups providing incredibly crucial services for trans people and sex workers, doing the crucial work of helping people live— being politically scapegoated for their humanity “costing an election” while their organizations remains under-resourced and unprotected. It looks like Black women leaders receiving support for their work in the wake of the violent murder of George Floyd and being told they should “happy” for the support. It looks like Muslim and Latinx communities whose representatives only visit their places of worship on election years yet have to navigate ICE stops during Dia de los Muertos and Ramadan iftar dinners. Democracy is an exercise is faith and trust. Who would trust a system that shows up for communities like this?
I was reminded of this project because one of the most beautiful, inspiring, hope-generating groups I spent time with announced this week that they were sunsetting and closing down. One of the questions I love to ask people is, “How are you sourcing hope right now?” and this organization was a source of hope for me. Even after I moved from city they were based, I stayed on as a monthly donor and just made it my business to keep showing up. So I was confused when my colleagues asked me how I “got” access— what do you mean? Trust is earned, not something that is gamed out. Once you know something so needed and necessary is showing up for communities that matter to you— how can you not keep showing up? Why aren’t the rest of us?
Yes, this matters for election outcomes but most importantly, it matters for our humanity. When we abdicate consistently showing up for vulnerable communities then we abdicate any expectation of political allegiance. Dominoes fall both ways.
Trends come in threes and this was the third such incredible, inspiring, crucial community infrastructure to announce their closure just this week. To say it saddens me is an understatement because it also adds to my overwhelm. Healing takes time. Building trust takes time. Do we have enough before its too late?
“Fund us like you want us to win,” is a call to action often repeated in global feminist activist communities in discussions about funding and support.
In the United States right now, the stakes feel more dire and desperate. This isn’t about winning. This is about living.
How are you sourcing hope right now?
What would it look like to keep showing up for that?
Sabrina Hersi Issa is a human rights technologist. She is committed to leveraging innovation as a tool to unlock opportunity and dignity for all. She does this through her work in technology, media and philanthropy. This is her personal newsletter.