The Care Deficit:

How Activism Replicates the Harm It Fights

There’s a story I keep thinking about. The leader of an activist group stepped back after a hard loss. She was tired. She had young children needing extra care, and the weight of it all was heavy. Instead of her community asking, “How can we hold you up?” she was quietly pushed out. The reason given? She wasn’t “active” enough.

This isn’t just about one person or one group. It’s about a pattern many of us have seen: spaces that call themselves movements, but function like machines. They measure commitment in rallies attended, hours logged, and tasks checked off. If you slow down( because of illness, grief, parenthood, or simply to breathe) you have a problem to be solved. Or removed.

The truth is, movements aren’t sustained by output. They’re sustained by people. And people aren’t relentless. They’re human. They need to be fed, rested, heard, and held. When we forget that, we don’t just lose good organizers. We replicate the very systems we claim to fight.

What does that look like?

Urgency over care: “The cause can’t wait!” (But if your people collapse, neither can the cause.)

Individualism over community: “If you can’t keep up, step aside.” (Instead of: “What do you need?” How can we share this load?”)

Perfectionism over grace: “We must always be active, always be strong.” (No room for struggle, doubt, or healing.)

Either/or thinking: “We’re an activist group, not a community.” (As if caring for each other distracts from the work, rather than being the foundation of it.)

These choices are not neutral. They mirror the values of white supremacy culture: extractive, transactional, and punitive. They demand we amputate parts of ourselves to fit into the movement. Then wonder why the movement feels sterile, fragile, or exclusive.

The people in your group who are suggesting this need to be addressed. Real solidarity begins when we see each other as whole beings. It looks like:

Checking in, not just checking tasks. “How are you really? What’s heavy right now?”

Honoring capacity. Parents, disabled folks, caregivers, and those weathering storms aren’t “less committed.” They’re experts in resilience. Center them.

Sharing labor. Meals for sick comrades. Childcare during meetings. Despite the exhaustion.

Refusing to abandon our wounded. If someone falls, we circle closer.

This is the work.

Demanding disability justice means creating spaces where disabled bodies can lead. Fighting capitalism means refusing to treat people as disposable. Practicing anti-racism means valuing care over productivity.

There are groups out there getting this right. Spaces where “community” isn’t a buzzword but a practice. Where showing up with your whole, tired, imperfect self is welcomed. Where the goal isn’t just to win a campaign, but to keep each other alive, tender, and whole while we do it.

Because liberation is the way we walk together now so that we can all cross that line together. ❤️