The former executive director of The Bronx Defenders argues that the young, radical staffers disrupting nonprofit organizations are (mostly) right.
It has been a year since I stepped down from being the executive director of The Bronx Defenders, a holistic public defender office that provides legal representation, social service support and advocacy to low-income people. Leading the organization was so all-consuming that it was hard for me to imagine what life would be like once I left. The first few weeks were a little disorienting, but it helped that I soon found others who, like me, were struggling to adjust to life after leadership.
As former executive directors, we were like a bunch of expats living in a foreign land. We gravitated toward one another, seeking connection and companionship, not quite sure what to do with ourselves now that our phones had gone quiet, our inboxes were empty, and we were no longer responsible for managing a constant stream of chaos and crisis.
While our organizations differed in size, scope and mission, there was much that we had in common. Most notably, many of us were at the helm during a really challenging time. We led during the first Trump administration and its hate-driven policies, the COVID-19 pandemic and its devastating impact on our clients; the murder of George Floyd and the racial reckoning that followed; the summer of blazing orange skies over the city and smoke-filled air; and the death and destruction of the war in Israel and Gaza.
When we gathered over coffee or drinks, however, we did not dwell for long on the external forces that buffeted our respective ships and challenged us as leaders. Instead, our conversations quickly and inevitably turned to our shared experience of running organizations filled with increasingly radical, demanding and uncompromising staff.
The complaints about this new generation of racial and social justice advocates were repeated so often that they became almost cliché — the absence of nuance, the rejection of incrementalism, the denial of progress, the prioritization of self-care, the refusal to grant grace, the unrealistic expectations, the demand for decision-making power and so on.
In these conversations, I heard stories that bore a striking resemblance to one another. They were accounts of leaders who found themselves frustrated by the time, energy and resources spent addressing internal tensions and discontent, stymied by the widening gap between their own vision for the organization and that of the people they had hired, and increasingly estranged from their workforce.
The complaints about this new generation of racial and social justice advocates were repeated so often that they became almost cliché — the absence of nuance, the rejection of incrementalism, the denial of progress, the prioritization of self-care, the refusal to grant grace, the unrealistic expectations, the demand for decision-making power and so on.
It was easy for me to recognize the staff of The Bronx Defenders in this list of grievances. As executive director, I had often found myself unmoored by this shift in our workforce, unsure how to respond and asking myself questions like “How did we get here? Did I hire the wrong people? Is it me?”
In search of answers, I sought guidance anywhere I could find it. I read management and leadership articles, followed social media accounts of young advocates and consulted my peers at nonprofits across the country. What I discovered was that organizations big and small, from coast to coast and across the racial and social justice spectrum, were struggling with the exact same issues that we were. Frustrated, vocal and organized staff of nonprofits were unionizing, writing demand letters and going online to air their dissatisfaction. Everywhere I looked, there was internal upheaval.
It turned out there was nothing unique about The Bronx Defenders, its staff or me. Something was happening in the nonprofit sector — indeed, throughout society more broadly — and it was bigger than all of us.
What I came to understand is that the internal struggles we faced were actually inextricably intertwined with the external challenges that threatened us. Our staff was not trying to shake up our institutions in spite of all these challenges, it was doing so precisely because of them.
Nonprofit organizations are often thought of as machines that just need the right operator to push their levers and make them run smoothly. But the reality is that organizations are not mechanical at all. They are complex living organisms in a constant state of evolution. Sometimes, that evolution is slow — almost imperceptible. At other times, it picks up speed, accelerating in a desperate effort to propel the organization into a new stage of existence. That rapid evolution can look a lot like revolution and can be unsettling to those of us who see our most important job as keeping the wheels turning.
Nonprofits are complex living organisms in a constant state of evolution.
While I was comforted by the realization that my experience at The Bronx Defenders was not unique, I still wasn’t sure how to lead through this evolutionary struggle. Thankfully, a young woman on our executive leadership team, who was wise beyond her years, gave me some good advice. She said, “Your job as a leader is not to do all that is demanded by our staff but to hear the music in the mayhem.” Those words of wisdom became my anchor, preventing me from becoming unmoored by the turbulent times. And so, rather than try to change, tame or deradicalize the people who worked for the organization, I tried to listen, understand and learn from them. When I did, I was indeed able to hear the music. And while it didn’t happen overnight, somewhere along the way, what I heard radicalized me.
Today, I find myself in agreement with our rebellious staff about a lot of things. I agree that a nuanced and incrementalist approach has not achieved the kind of transformation that the people we serve need and deserve. I agree that our progress has often been co-opted by systems of oppression that are endlessly creative and adaptive. I agree that we must grapple with systemic racism within our own organizations and engage in the arduous task of dismantling it. I agree that the work is brutally hard and that we should make it as easy as possible for people to take care of themselves while doing it. I agree that grace is not always warranted and must be earned. I agree that our expectations are only unrealistic until they are realized. And I agree that our staff members are the ones who are doing the work. They are our organizations. And they should have more of a voice in what we do and how we do it.
Rather than try to change, tame or deradicalize the people who worked for the organization, I tried to listen, understand and learn from them. Somewhere along the way, what I heard radicalized me.
While there is much we agree on, there are also places where I part ways with the headstrong staffers at The Bronx Defenders and other organizations. I do think that there are limits to how much, how hard and how fast organizations can change. While nonprofits can become bolder in our vision, more inclusive in our culture and less hierarchical in our decision-making, we can’t lose sight of why we exist and who are here to serve.
In that sense, I’ve come to think of our work like a dartboard. At the center is the bull’s-eye — representing our core mission. Beyond that, there are rings of work, ideas and issues that may be related to what we do but are increasingly distinct and distant. The further out from the center we go, the greater the risk that we will lose the focus that is necessary for us to be able to carry out our mission.
Unfortunately, I only came to understand these risks and limits with the benefit of hindsight after pushing The Bronx Defenders too far in my own effort to evolve as a leader. But I also know that evolution, by its very nature, means charting a new course. There is no road map for how to get where we need to go, and I believe there needs to be more tolerance from our leaders, staff, boards and funders for experimentation and even failure.
To the next generation of New York City nonprofit leaders: Given the political and social moment we find ourselves in, it does not look like your time at the helm is going to be any easier than mine. You too will face, if you are not already, myriad external challenges and threats to your organizations, your work and the people you serve. The anger, frustration and resistance your staff feels as a result will undoubtedly show up in the form of internal struggle and conflict. When that happens, I hope that you will consider the possibility that this agitation is a push not for misguided revolution, but for necessary evolution. Who knows — if you listen hard enough, you too just may hear some music in all the mayhem.