Right Now is the Right Time for Hope

There's a mayoral race in Seattle this year. I'm just watching it because it's a fascinating distraction from the dumpster fire that is the decline of Democracy in the United States. Anyway, the current mayor is quoted as saying: "This is not the time for hope. Passion and great ideas and inexperience is just not going to get us there. Trump will walk all over a person without experience, period." And I get what he is saying -- mainly because he wants to be re-elected. AND -- Hope and Experience aren't mutually exclusive. Hope is not naïve. It’s not denial. Hope is a discipline — a practice we return to, especially when the world feels heavy.

These days, it’s easy to feel disillusioned. The systems many of us have dedicated our lives to transforming are slow to change. Progress often feels fragile, reversible, or performative. And for those of us working in equity and justice, the constant push against resistance can leave us tired, cynical, or numb.

But I keep coming back to this: Right now is the right time for hope.

If Not Now, When?

There’s a myth that we need to wait until conditions are ideal to feel hopeful — until funding stabilizes, leadership shifts, or systems catch up. But hope doesn’t come after the struggle. It emerges from it.

At the EEC, I often found myself saying, “Once we get through this phase, things will get easier.” But what I eventually learned was that every phase of building, sustaining, or sunsetting an organization is complex. The work doesn’t get easier — we just get clearer about why we keep showing up. This summer was one of the most painful seasons of my life. Looking at the organization diminish. Telling my team that I didn't know how we were going to survive. Realizing all of this was happening not because of poor planning on our part but because of DOGE-like actions on behalf of a state public agency. Every morning was an exercise in Hope over Anxiety. Hope over Depression. Hope.

"Maybe today they release our funds." "Maybe today we'll get good news about that grant." "Maybe today racism in education will end and we can close because the work is done." "Maybe today...." Hope (and rage but that's for another blog) kept me getting out of bed most days.

Hope isn’t something that waits for better days. It’s what creates them.

If Not Us, Who?

Hope is not passive. It’s not about sitting still and wishing things were different. Hope is active — it’s the decision to keep creating, keep connecting, and keep believing that what we do matters.

Every act of care, every courageous conversation, every commitment to integrity in our leadership is an act of hope. When we show up — even when we’re tired, even when the path forward is unclear — we make it possible for others to believe that change is still worth working for.

When I think about all the people I’ve worked alongside — parents, educators, advocates, and leaders — I see that hope is contagious. It spreads quietly through action, through showing up, through saying: I still believe in us.

Choosing Hope as Practice

Hope is a practice of presence. It asks us to notice what is still possible, even when the path feels uncertain. It asks us to anchor in community and vision, even when systems disappoint us.

Right now — in the midst of complexity, loss, and rebuilding — is exactly the right time for hope. Because hope reminds us that we are not finished. The story isn’t over. And we are still capable of creating something better, together.

If not now, when? If not us, who? Let’s keep choosing hope — not as a feeling, but as a way forward.