As I write this in late January – at the somewhat surreal confluence of the MLK holiday and inauguration day – I’ve been reflecting on how my nonprofit peers are responding to this moment.

Given the nature of my work, I’m connected to many organizations and the consultants who serve them, across a broad range of issues, constituencies, and geography. Looking back over the last few months, I’ve discerned three distinct yet overlapping strategies for surviving and thriving in the coming year.

Advocacy and resistance

Groups that focus on advocacy and community organizing are continuing to advocate for their missions: environmental protection, reproductive rights, justice for immigrants, support for queer youth, climate resilience and equity, fighting racism and oppression, and so on.

If advocacy is baked into your DNA – for example, if you’re the ACLU or Color of Change or Planned Parenthood – what else are you going to do? While the tone feels a bit more subdued compared to 2017 (after all, we’ve been down this road before), activists gonna activate. Organizers gonna organize. This is essential and unsurprising.

In some cases, these efforts have a defensive flavor: trying to protect previous gains rather than seeking new victories. However, I am also noticing more non-political groups edging into the advocacy space.

One current example is H.R.9495, Congress’s attempt to disempower nonprofits. Here’s an explainer from Nonprofit Vote that calls this the “Nonprofit Killer” bill. Plus a joint statement from the Council on Foundations, Independent Sector, National Council of Nonprofits, and United Philanthropy Forum – these are all mainstream, largely non-political organizations – strongly opposing this bill.

If the new administration attempts to defund and clamp down on civil society, which is a very real possibility, I believe we’ll see more nonprofits – even the non-political ones – muscling up and pushing back.

Mutual aid

Mutual aid means people helping one another through both informal and formal networks. It also means organizations supporting peer organizations.

This response is nothing new. When my grandparents landed in America more than a century ago, they were helped by neighbors who had traveled from the same region and spoke the same language. Immigrants continue to rely on informal networks of neighbors and ad hoc groups.

Mutual aid ramps up during natural disasters, as we’re seeing now with the Los Angeles wildfires. When our tiny Vermont community was devastated by floods last summer, neighbors and others showed up in huge numbers to muck out basements, deliver meals, haul away trash, and provide moral support.

For marginalized communities, mutual aid is both a tool for building power and an essential survival strategy. Consider this Vermont Public news story, “Central Vermont’s queer community is on the front line of flood recovery.”

As one volunteer who was interviewed noted, “The queer community has channels that are already set up … a mutual aid thread, preexisting the disaster. And you can also take requests from the general population. A bunch of queer people showed up today who might not have otherwise, because [the invitation] was … distributed through channels that we were already plugged into.”

Another volunteer added, “The state has never really been there for queer folks. And so we know that we have to show up for each other – and that includes all of our neighbors. That includes everybody, not just queer people.”

Post-election, I’ve noticed a lot more messaging (and action) around creating mutual aid networks to weather the political moment. For example, NOFA-VT, which promotes organic agriculture, is working with Migrant Justice and other groups to support immigrant farm workers in Vermont.

Self-care

When I started my career in social change – we’re talking 45 years ago – the concept of “self-care” wasn’t in our vocabulary. Organizers were expected live, breathe, and sweat for their causes and organizations 24-7-365. This was never wise or sustainable, but it was the norm for a lot of movement work.

In recent decades, with guidance from groups like Windcall Institute and Center for Whole Communities, we’ve gradually elevated self-care as an essential strategy for social change. Self-care can be implemented at many levels: individually, organizationally, and movement-wide.

In many cases, this effort has been driven by organizations led by people of color. Self-care is a powerful response to systemic racism, gender oppression, and capitalism – and is therefore a radical act. When we experience our bodies, our spirits, and our relationships as sacred, we are less likely to treat ourselves, our work, and each other as commodities.

Since November, I’ve received a lot of messages focusing on self-care. For example, consulting colleagues at Third Space Studio shared a series of journaling prompts they used while facilitating a planning meeting. Among my favorites:

• What are the ways that joy might protect you?
• What might your creative, inventive, expansive version of rest look like?
• What are the stories you tell yourself that keep you out of alignment with your own well-being?

They’re all connected

These three approaches overlap and interact with each other in interesting and productive ways. For example, you can:

• Advocate for better self-care policies within your own nonprofit.
• Reach out to potential allies to provide mutual support and organize together for policy change.
• Trade mental health days with colleagues: “I’ll cover for you if you cover for me.”
• Invite and facilitate conversations about how we can build sustainable, successful movements.

How are you responding to this moment? What’s your survive-and-thrive strategy? Please share your thoughts below.