I'm so angry. I’m angry at the kind of leadership that mistakes photo ops for policy. The kind that bulldozes encampments and calls it progress. The kind that builds fences instead of relationships. The kind that wins votes in the margins of the city and none of its central core. I live in and am very invested in Minneapolis. Every election cycle they promise compassion, coordination, and housing as a human right. What we get instead are press releases, vetoes, and fences aro

Nearly a decade ago, I was her first supervisor in her first professional job. She was bright, SO nervous, funny, and already sharper than she realized. I remember thinking this one is going to change things. And she did. We’ve stayed in orbit ever since, working in similar circles, pushing for (and against) many of the same things. Over time the dynamic shifted. She no longer needed guidance. She needed someone to see her clearly, to ask the right questions at the right time

Some days, supervision feels less like leadership and more like triage. The budget is gone. Not tight , not under review . Gone. And still my team shows up with hearts too big for that balance sheet, asking how we can stretch, share, or save something for the families who trust us. They want to give everything. They always do. And I’m the one who has to say no. Or think creatively. Or beg, borrow, and barter for donated diapers, gift cards, or snacks. We spend so much energy

The community I work with is full of parents doing the impossible math of survival. Balancing school, work, parenting, and the daily demands of capitalism. My program budget is gone. It’s been gone. But we’re finding a way through because that’s what people do when they care about each other. Still, the need keeps rising. Prices keep climbing. And the supports that were barely keeping families above water are being pulled away due to an impasse over whether we should provide