The Lonely Road of Equity Leadership

Lessons from My Time at the EEC

I never wanted to be "in leadership". While from the outside it looked amazing to be the one to call the shots, have people do the work, and meet with V.I.P.'s, it also looked lonely as hell. In 2012, there weren't many people in my circle "doing equity work" that could mentor me or even warn me about what I was going to stumble into. Equity leadership is hard. Really hard. And it can be lonely. I learned this deeply during my time leading the Equity in Education Center (EEC).

When you commit to equity work, you are committing to holding multiple truths at once: the vision of a just world, the reality of systemic barriers, and the weight of the people and communities who rely on you to navigate both. At the EEC, I carried that weight every day. Some days it felt empowering; other days, it felt crushing.

The Weight of Responsibility

Leading an equity-focused organization often means carrying the hopes, dreams, and frustrations of your community on your shoulders. Every decision — from staffing to budgeting to program design — is laden with consequences. At the EEC, I constantly wrestled with the tension between what was possible and what was necessary. I wanted to serve families and staff with integrity, but I was also navigating financial realities, systemic inequities, and institutional pressures that were often invisible to the outside world.

The Loneliness of Leadership

Equity leadership can be isolating. You see patterns of inequity that others don’t want to see, or that are inconvenient to confront. At times, the hardest decisions had to be made alone. Letting go of programs or staff, for example, was a responsibility I carried without fanfare or applause. These moments were painful, not because I didn’t have support — I had a dedicated team and a committed community — but because the weight of accountability often feels like it can only be carried internally.

Facing the Internal Struggle

The external challenges mirrored my internal ones: self-doubt, fear of failure, grief over the loss of things I loved, and the constant push-pull between hope and despair. Sunsetting programs, letting people go because funding lapsed or -- more painfully -- they just weren't the right fit for the programs, or stepping back from initiatives I had poured myself into was emotionally exhausting. It was a reminder that leadership is as much about loss as it is about creation — about making choices that feel ethically right even when they hurt.

Lessons Learned

Through this struggle, several truths became clear:

• Courage is quiet. Equity leadership often requires making choices no one else understands. These decisions may feel invisible, but they are transformative.

• Reflection is essential. Without consistent mirror work — the hard, honest reflection on our own biases, fears, and motivations — it’s easy to burn out or inadvertently replicate the systems we are trying to dismantle.

• Community matters. Leadership can feel lonely, but connection sustains us. Mentors, peers, and allies are not optional; they are essential for resilience and perspective.
  

An Invitation to Other Leaders

Equity leadership is not for the faint of heart. It asks you to sit with discomfort, to hold contradictions, and to face the loneliness that often comes with responsibility. But it is also deeply necessary. Your struggle is real. Your care is meaningful. And your work — even in the quiet, unseen moments — is building the foundation for a more just world.

If you are walking this road, know this: you are not alone in your experience, even when it feels solitary. The work you do, the reflection you practice, and the courage you muster matter more than you realize.

Equity leadership is not easy. It is, however, profoundly worth it.