Joy Is Survival: Leading with Light in Heavy Times

The last few years have been heavy.

Political polarization. Cultural backlash. Social progress rolling back in real time. It has been challenging to navigate the heaviness and grief without it impacting my mental health. I know I am not alone in this experience of carrying the trauma of all that has unfolded in our world while still finding the courage to show up every day to lead with inclusion and impact.

It is hard to pinpoint one specific moment that pushed me over the edge, but the last few months of 2025 were among the most draining and trauma inducing of my 20 plus year career. When the Supreme Court of the United States issued decisions that signaled government sanctioned racism could once again shape opportunity and access, it felt terrifying. We were watching hard won progress unravel before our eyes, and it was brutal.

When ICE invaded Chicago and my son was suddenly afraid to take the bus home or walk the same streets he learned to walk on because he realized his skin color could place him in a risky and frightening situation he had been watching unfold on YouTube and television, I felt sick to my stomach. When my students came to class carrying fear in their bodies because they were scared for the safety and stability of their families and themselves, it was gut wrenching. When that fear became reality and two of my students were forced to become breadwinners overnight and take on very adult responsibilities like securing lawyers and supporting their siblings after their fathers were taken by ICE, it was unbearable.

I will never forget the sorrow, confusion, and terror in the eyes of my predominantly Latine students. I will never forget the emotions and tears I could not hold back during my lectures. The hopelessness was suffocating, and the realization that there are forces larger than any one of us and that we could not fix what was and still is unfolding was defeating. It was and is a lot to hold. It is a lot to carry.

But I had no choice except to carry this weight and move forward. I decided to move forward by intentionally seeking moments of joy to help me survive the despair. Those moments of joy gave me the energy, hope, and strength I needed to continue living out my purpose and leading with impact.

This experience taught me that inclusive leadership does not ask us to deny the weight of the world. It asks us to face it. If we only carry the grief, we will collapse under it. There were moments when I felt guilty, selfish, even irresponsible for seeking and experiencing joy while injustice and suffering were pervasive. But I learned that we cannot live in a constant state of urgency and outrage. Joy is not selfish. It is how we survive.

Joy is not a distraction from the work of inclusion and liberation.
Joy is not denial.
Joy is resistance.

Inclusive leadership requires emotional endurance. It requires nervous system regulation. It requires hope. It requires joy.

For me, joy looks like dancing as if nobody is watching at the Early Birds dance club. It looks like cheering on my boys at their basketball games. It looks like building the South Asian Solidarity Movement and being in community with people who believe in collective liberation. It looks like live music vibrating through my body. It looks like cuddling up to my 96 year old grandmother while I still can. It looks like watching the sunset, stargazing, and remembering that the world still holds beauty.

Enjoying a beautiful sunset in my ancestral homeland of Kerala, India.

These are not indulgences. They are restoration.

Joy nourishes our spirits. It restores depleted energy. It reminds us what we are fighting for in the first place: connection, dignity, belonging, beauty, possibility.

What I have learned is that grief and joy can coexist. Even in heavy seasons, we are still allowed to feel alive. The work of inclusion, liberation, and justice is not sustained by burnout. It is sustained by people who know how to return to themselves, by leaders who understand that joy fuels courage, and by communities that remember how to celebrate even as they organize.

If you are feeling the weight of the world right now, do not be afraid to lean into joy. Do not buy into the narrative that your commitment to inclusion requires you to live in a constant state of urgency, distress, and outrage.

You are allowed to laugh. You are allowed to dance. You are allowed to rest. You are allowed to feel joy.

Joy is what gives us the strength to keep building the world we deserve. Seeking joy during times of despair is not selfish. It is survival. And it ensures that the work continues.