I took several months “off” which is to say I didn’t write a blog post here and I stopped posting #Crusadurdays. Though the time aligned with summer, I can’t say that was the reason; rather, I felt I had run out of any new thoughts or contributions to the discourse that seemed to add any value to it. But this week I was reminded that continuing to plant the seeds, even if they won’t bloom for a long time or maybe not ever, matters. The act and the consistency of the act are what matter. And the reality is that we are living in a moment where the rotten seeds of oppression, inequality, and misinformation – sowed with near impunity for decades – are bearing the vile fruit that have horrific consequences. A few examples:

• Texas had a one-two punch of regressive ‘achievements’ when the Supreme Court chose not to block SB8 going into effect (read Sonia Sotomayor’s visceral dissent for all the reasons why this bill is a nightmare.) and then the Republican legislature passed sweeping the voting restriction law called SB1 (which the NAACP LDF has filed a lawsuit against).
• A series of storms, coupled with every-raging wildfires, has once again shown how horrific the effects of climate change are and how woefully unprepared we are to combat them (among many, this piece in The Atlantic lays it out..
• COVID-19 – and the Delta variant in particular – continue to ravage global communities, most especially those with low vaccine rates (by ignorance or circumstance) and the misinformation spreads like wildfire on social media. (I read An Ugly Truth about Facebook recently – worth it).

In light of all this, I recently finished Rebecca Henderson’s book Reimagining Capitalism In A World On Fire. Admittedly, I read it over a long period, as I felt compelled to process each section and its calls to action in separate chunks. The book is optimistic bordering on (and some would argue crossing into) idealistic, but in some ways the weakness is also its strength because when compared to the discouraging alternative of the status quo, a belief in a path forward is radical in its own right. Henderson’s framework is expansive, calling to 1) create shared value; 2) build purpose-driven organizations; 3) rewire finance; 4) build cooperation; and 5) rebuild institutions and fix governments – each a massive undertaking co-dependent on the others for widespread success.

This macro construct is accompanied by a micro framework at the end of the book, calling on each of us to: 1) discover your own purpose; 2) do something now; 3) bring your values to work; 4) work in government; 5) get political; and 6) take care of yourself and remember to find joy. It is in this last one that we come to the starfish. Henderson writes:

"Don't judge your success by whether you save the world. None of us can. There are nearly eight billion wonderful, amazing, occasionally crazy-making human beings on this planet. Each of us can only do what we can do.

Do you know the story about the young woman who saw a beach covered with thousands of stranded starfish and began to throw them, one by one, back into the sea? They say that her friend laughed at her, saying, "What are you doing? Look at this beach: you can't save all these starfish. You can't even begin to make a difference!" The young woman stopped for a moment, thought, and then leaned down to pick up another starfish. "I don't know about that," she replied, "but I know that I am making a difference to this one."

I would add to this that while the most important thing is that we take it upon ourselves to throw back the starfish we find on our particular beach, and that we must do it for the sake of the starfish, it’s also true that the act may inspire others to do the same, for their starfish, on their beach. Or to join you on yours. We must, simply, do the work and do it consistently, with patience and courage. Who knows what difference you might – we might – make.

Today is the first day of Spring, a time often associated with rebirth and fresh growth. And while there are reasons for optimism (one can always find reasons for optimism), I find myself much more inclined to dwell on the sheer volume of bullsh*t this month has brought. It’s been an anti-women’s history month, full to the brim with examples of intersectional misogyny and sexism. This blog post isn’t a news round up, but to hit on the lowlights to which I refer:

• Eight people are dead, notably including six Asian women, after a shooting spree targeted them in their places of work on Tuesday March 16th, carried out by a white supremacist.
• Accusers continue to come forward with stories of abuse, harassment, and intimidation by NY Governor Andrew Cuomo.
• In London, Sarah Everard was found dead after walking home alone.
• And a slew of disparities identified between what the NCAA provided the Men and Women playing in the annual March Madness tournament.

Each in their own ways, these headline stories (from the just the last few weeks) scream about the structural and system roots of oppression against women, especially women of color, especially by white men, and all by entrenched sources of power who are at best uninterested in addressing these issues and at worst (and honestly more frequently) are deeply invested in perpetuating them.

I don’t have much to say beyond that I am angry, I’m overwhelmed, I’m acutely aware of feeling helpless. What I am not? I am not surprised. I am not jolted into a new sense of urgency or awareness. I am simply still here, ready to carry on the work. But right now, that motivation comes much more from fury than it does from hope. And I think naming things – as racism, as misogyny, as abuse, as harassment – and our feelings about them is a crucial step in harnessing the power needed to combat them.

“True peace required the presence of justice, not just the absence of conflict.”

-N.K. Jemisin

These articles take each of these subjects further, adding more cutting analysis, personal experience, and human perspective that even some of the best reporting can miss.

Roxanne Gay – A White Man’s Bad Day
My Tam H. Nguyen – Asian American Women Are Resilient – And We Are Not Okay
Monica Hesse – Things I Do Not Ever Need To Read or Hear About A Shooter Ever Again
Kate Manne – What Sarah Everard’s Murder Illuminates—And Might Obscure

A few weeks ago, I had the gift of seeing Stacey Abrams speak about her journey and her work. I laughed. I cried. I felt seen. I felt inspired. Every word was authentic and sincere. Every observation was profound and came from hard-won experience. It’d be hard to distill everything I took away because it was all so rich and important, but here are the few that I found especially searing, especially in the context of Carnot’s ambitions.

“Put your money where your values are.”

For those of us who have the means to do so, walking the talk will often translate into writing a check – to donate to a philanthropy; to support a cause; to sponsor a scholarship; to invest in a friends & family round; to buy from companies or individuals who support our values. We may not all be once-in-a-generation activists like Stacey Abrams but we can all act (see: Crusadurday) and we must. 

“Plotting is one of the stages of grief.”

Honestly, I was rocked by this statement. It felt so true to me and my experiences. If we skip the phase in which we reconcile and translate our emotions into plans, then we waste a deep source of motivation and healing. If we can make sense of our grief (or other ‘negative’ emotions) such that it reframes the loss as a driver of purpose, we will emerge stronger, more resilient, and more powerful than before.

“Do not wait.” 

Put another way, you are enough, just as you are. Nothing about you needs to be different (often thought of as “improved”) in order to begin working toward your goals, whatever those might be. Underrepresented people in particular do ourselves – and others – a disservice by waiting until [insert excuse here] to just begin. If not you, then who? If not now, then when?

The interviewer for the conversation quoted Maya Angelou in reference to all that Stacey Abrams has achieved: “If one is lucky, a solitary fantasy can totally transform a million realities.” Put your money into that fantasy. Channel your anger or sadness into action. Start now. Together, we will be more than enough. 

I’ve been working my way through Peloton’s “Year of Yes” collaboration with Shonda Rhimes and find myself inspired and activated by it in ways that I honestly didn’t expect to be. In one session, themed “Your CEO Mission Statement,” we were challenged to come up with ours. I despaired when I didn’t have one (the need to come up with an immediate right answer is a long-time trait of mine) but I kept chewing on it until it came to me: power with/and/through purpose (slashes intentional because each can be taken alone or together). There is something electric about revelations like these – when it just feels so right.

Carnot, perhaps obviously, is conceived of this general mission statement; its own – Amplify Opportunity – is a specific iteration and goal for the organization. Coming off of a catastrophic 2020 into a 2021 that is already showing acute signs of out-doing its predecessor in horrors, our mission and vision are more clear and our work more urgent. That said, the ocean cannot be boiled – or at least, we’re not ready to be the ones who try. So this year is all about consistent and deliberate actions, however small they may be.

Consistent and deliberate action in 2021 looks like this:
• Weekly #Crusadurday posts with recommended targeted actions to build up a following of participants.
• Twice-monthly posts here to establish the Carnot brand and voice and create a body of work upon which our real-world actions will be based.
• Sponsor 4-6 events this year with Friends of Carnot, which could include a book club, fundraising activities, letter-writing, and match-campaigns. (If you have ideas, please send them to cory at carnotfund dot org!)
• Evaluate at least 10 prospective angel investments for the Carnot portfolio.

Power with purpose. Power and purpose. Power through purpose.

Let’s get to work.

In 2020, I lost track of days of the week and my brain was convinced that every day was Thursday. But in August, Andrew suggested that we introduce a new day: Crusadurday (I go back and forth about whether it should be Crusadurday or Crusaturday but since we’re emphasizing the “crusading” part of this wombo, I’m hereafter sticking with the former).

One of the ways in which this year has changed me was the profound – and painful – confrontation with how much I had let good intentions and strongly-held beliefs stand in for meaningful action. I had a new lens on the fact that good intentions are not just woefully inadequate, but in fact often act as a barrier to change, either by lulling a person (me, in this case) into a false sense of complacency and/or serving to convince someone that they’ve done a lot more than they actually have to create change. It’s the privileged version of “thoughts and prayers” – an empty, quasi-sincere contribution that is not, in fact, enough. In revisiting my own past approach and assessing how I’d do better (which is to say do more), I simultaneously was overwhelmed and consoled by how many ways I could do more, big and small.

If we all did one small thing to advance the mission – whatever mission(s) we care about – instead of just wringing hands or liking posts or ranting into a like-minded echo chamber about the latest injustice you read about in news (things I still do, by the way), the impact would be huge. Not could be – would be. Because I know I’m not alone in needing to close the gap between intentions and actions. 

And that’s the point of Crusadurday: one day a week (at least) to take specific, meaningful action for causes that matter to you and in ways that are right-sized to you and your life. Activities can include:

• Calling an elected official about a bill or topic that you want them to act on (for instance)
• Organizing a food or clothing drive at your school or place of employment (suggestion)
• Joining a weekly march or protest (for example)
• Signing up to be a mentor (option)
• Volunteering if you’re healthy enough to do so (idea)
• Buying groceries for a family in need (like this)
• Donating to organizations you support, ideally on a recurring basis, as much as fits your budget (one suggestion)
• Adding your name to a petition in between voting in elections because your voice always matters (lots of starting points)

Asked in an interview about how all of the variables that could impact the outcome of the 2012 presidential election, Barack Obama’s former campaign manager, David Axelrod responded,

“All we can do is everything we can do.”

#Crusadurday is our day to make sure that we are making good on just that. If we do, it might just be enough.

In a recent event hosted by the women’s network Chief, the inimitable Mindy Kaling shared the following anecdote:

“I hated being the diversity hire on “The Office,” which is what I was when I was hired. That was literally my title, and the other writers knew it. I was a Staff Writer, but I was also the Diversity Hire for NBC Universal. They had a program — which is a great program, I wouldn’t have this job if it wasn’t for it — but I was also embarrassed because everybody on the staff knew that my salary was covered by NBC Universal because I was diverse. 

It’s a weird thing — to feel so lucky to have gotten the job, and also weirdly like, “Great, I beat out every other minority for this one spot.” I was the only woman, and the only minority in the writing staff for the first two years of the show. And it was because I was “free.” I hated it, but I had to dig myself out of that hole, because I owe my entire career to that experience, too. I’ve realized that it was a gift, and I should have just felt so proud to have been the one person who was chosen.”

This is a conundrum for a lot of “firsts” or “onlys” – the mix of pride, frustration, and hyper-awareness of your singularity whether it’s in a meeting or a team or a workplace. It can be both a blessing and/or a curse and it’s easier for some to manage than others. Kaling’s ultimate conclusion that it was a gift and that she should be proud of that achievement is laudable if potentially hard to emanate. But without the first, there can’t be a second and a third and a fourth. 

That said, there’s ample evidence to show this kind of tokenism rarely leads to true shifts in a group (I use “group” here as an encompassing term) dynamic, thus keeping that group stuck in its insular structure and therefore limiting the kind of creativity and innovation that occurs when a group is in fact widely representative. In research by Frances Frei and Anne Morriss, they found that companies that hire and retain diverse talent will be more competitive in their markets in the next 5 years. The framework is strikingly simple. In the authors’ words:

“Diversity doesn’t automatically confer advantages in decision-making. In fact, if diverse teams aren’t managed actively for inclusion, they can underperform homogenous ones. That’s because shared knowledge is key in decision-making, and diverse teams, by definition, start out with less of it. But if you create conditions of trust that allow diverse team members to bring their unique perspectives and experiences to the table, you can expand the amount of knowledge your team can access—and create an unbeatable advantage.”

Organizations of all shapes and sizes need to invest in people of diverse backgrounds, profiles, demographics, and experiences, not because it’s the “right” thing to do (it is) but because it’s the right thing for the organization. We need to move past feeling good about ourselves for selecting one Mindy Kaling and instead create space and belonging for a room full of them – of us all.

It’s fitting that my mom was the one to alert me to Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s death. My mom who, in ways small and large, taught me to be someone who understands that what you do is less important than how you do it and for what reasons. 

I admit: RBG passing sent me into a spiral immediately. I was numb for about an hour and then Andrew said, almost off-hand, “I’m just sorry that she didn’t have a chance to rest,” at which point, I melted down entirely. The idea that someone so remarkable could spend almost a century advocating for others, especially women, and then die while so much of that progress is being torn apart and undermined crushed me. I felt so tired, so overwhelmed, so defeated. 

In the week since, I’ve been boosted by those around me (as is almost always the case) – a video of a colleague’s middle school-aged kids and their friends writing in chalk on the sidewalk “Remember to vote” and “The future is in your hands;” a long conversation with a dear friend who always inspires me and puts everything in perspective; a fortuitous sign at a local shop reminding me, “Don’t lose hope.” I listened to a podcast interview with Professor Kristin Neff, who explained that a key aspect of self-compassion is the yin and yang of sitting with your pain (or feelings more generally) and identifying ways to respond. Carnot’s mission is rooted in this very concept: to be clear-eyed about things as they are while creating actions to move forward. 

Neff also talks about the value of rage. Women are so often criticized for being too emotional. In fact, it’s quite common for anyone without power to have their entirely just, entirely rational anger dismissed out of hand by those in power – and in fact used to invalidate the very reasons they (we) are angry at all (see: anyone talking about looters instead of protesters). It’s a vicious cycle and Neff argues that anger channeled toward causes of social justice are not just right but essential.

I am angry. I am frustrated. I am disgusted. And yet, those feelings are the ones that keep me from falling into despair or worse – apathy. Rage is serving as a countervailing weight to a news cycle, a year, a society that relentlessly pulls in a direction of defeat.

With Carnot, we aspire to fulfill RBG’s exhortation to “Fight for the things that you care about, but do it in a way that will lead others to join you.” We’re fighting. Join us.