Continuity Is the Work We Keep Avoiding
I’ve been thinking about how change actually happens.
Not the loud kind.
Not the viral kind.
But the slow, structural kind, the kind that asks something of us when no one is watching.
Over the last year, I’ve unlearned a lot.
Not dramatically. Steadily.
I’ve unlearned that awareness alone is enough.
That naming harm equals disrupting it.
That good intentions don’t hold when pressure arrives.
What holds under pressure is practice.
Because when discomfort shows up, when silence feels easier, when the cost feels real, when staying would require courage, intention disappears unless it’s been trained into something sturdier.
That’s the difference between knowing and being accountable.
And this is where a lot of people feel stuck right now.
Not because they don’t care.
But because the ground itself feels unstable.
When pressure increases, reality starts to wobble
There’s a myth that lives at the turn of the year.
That something resets.
That we get a clean slate.
That harm pauses while we rest.
But nothing reset.
The systems didn’t pause.
The structures didn’t soften.
The conditions that produce harm didn’t take a holiday.
And strangely, that’s not discouraging.
It’s grounding.
Because if nothing resets, then the work doesn’t rely on motivation, declarations or the performance of “doing better this year.”
It relies on continuity.
Over the past year, I’ve been paying attention to how change actually happens, not in theory, but in bodies, families, workplaces and communities.
Here’s what I’ve learned:
Most harm doesn’t survive because people don’t know.
It survives because knowing collapses under pressure.
When it’s inconvenient.
When it costs something.
When silence feels easier than disruption.
That’s where intention disappears.
And that’s why awareness alone has never been enough.
What holds is practice.
Practice is what remains when:
you’re tired
you’re unsure
you feel exposed
you’d rather retreat
Practice doesn’t ask you to reinvent yourself.
It asks you to stay.
Silence is structural
This is especially true for us, white people.
White exceptionalism teaches us that once we see something, we’re done.
That insight equals innocence.
That being “one of the good ones” exempts us from ongoing responsibility.
But accountability doesn’t work like that.
It’s not a moment.
And the truth many people avoid is this:
Silence isn’t neutral.
It’s structural.
It’s how systems reproduce themselves, quietly, efficiently, without needing overt cruelty.
If you’re feeling unsettled rather than energised at the start of this year, hear this clearly:
You’re not behind.
You’re not failing.
You’re noticing something real.
And noticing is where responsibility begins, not where it ends.
Grounding instead of spiralling
Something that’s coming up quietly, again and again, is how pressure feels before people have language for it.
When protest is reframed as threat.
When language becomes policed.
When dissent is treated as disruption rather than duty.
People don’t just lose rights.
They lose orientation.
Historically, systems of repression don’t rely only on force.
They rely on confusion, isolation and self-doubt.
On people second-guessing themselves.
On communities feeling fragmented rather than connected.
That destabilisation doesn’t mean you’re “imagining things.”
But it also doesn’t mean you are personally being targeted.
Both can be true at the same time.
What we’re living through doesn’t require conspiracy to explain it.
It requires structural honesty.
This is why grounding matters so much right now.
Not denial.
Not panic.
Grounding.
Staying connected to others.
Keeping your body regulated.
Checking information carefully.
Refusing to let awareness turn into fear instead of responsibility.
Because systems tighten most effectively when people retreat into isolation or spiral into overwhelm.
And the answer to that has never been silence.
It’s been steady accountability.
Accountability is not punishment, it’s relief
This is the part that often gets missed.
Accountability isn’t about self-flagellation.
It isn’t about being perfect.
It isn’t about performing certainty in uncertain times.
It’s about refusing to disappear when things get uncomfortable.
It’s about staying present.
Staying connected.
Staying responsible.
That’s why I’m building the Stay Accountable Membership.
Not as a course to “complete.”
Not as a badge of being “one of the good ones.”
But as a grounded space for white people who are ready to:
move beyond awareness into practice
stay accountable without shame
unlearn patterns that reassert themselves under pressure
do this work with others, not in isolation
This isn’t about reacting to every crisis.
It’s about building the capacity to remain ethical when pressure increases.
If that resonates, you can join the Stay Accountable Membership waitlist now.
No urgency.
No performance.
Just a place to land.
If you’re interested in finding out more about the Stay Accountable Memmbership, click here.
