There's a particular kind of exhaustion that doesn't show up in a job description. It lives in the moment you realize you're the only person who can fix a specific problem that will take the rest of your week. It arrives quietly when you realize you're less an executive director and more the first paid person your organization has ever had. You're not just carrying a title, but an entirely new era for your community. This is what many new executive directors are walking into. And for a long time, they've been walking into it alone.
A year ago, Equality Federation hosted what was then called the New Executive Director (ED) Intensive. A two-day convening for leaders new to the executive director role or just new to our state partner network. Instead of a traditional rundown of the essentials, we shifted the framing: what would happen if we created a space to talk honestly about what it takes to sustain yourself when everything around you is demanding more than you have? A month ago, I brought that same cohort back together virtually. No agenda beyond reflection. What they shared changed how we think about this work. It’s even inspired a name change! Formerly known as the New ED Intensive, this program has evolved to become the ED Sustainability Intensive. Because getting to the role is only the beginning. Staying whole inside of it is the real work.
When I asked what they wished someone had told them before year one, the answers came quickly. Several leaders spoke about the significant capacity often required during organizational transitions, highlighting the unseen labor spent in their first months unearthing past decisions and addressing the gaps. Others named the pressure to expand programs immediately, before building the infrastructure to hold them. "Don't expand a project or program before you instill the redundancy of the project beforehand." Simple in theory. Catastrophic when ignored. Some shared the quiet toll of stepping into historically white or cisgender roles as QTBIPOC leaders and navigating microaggressions on every front. When racial, gender, and disability justice is not intentionally practiced, the cost lands on our bodies and minds. And multiple leaders named the board dynamic. A common theme explored was a disconnect between leadership sustainability and the expectation of output, despite often constrained or nonexistent resources. When proactive efforts to nourish organizational health and prevent staff burnout are minimized, organizations risk reproducing the capitalistic practice of putting productivity over people, which fundamentally contradicts the values and goals of our movement.
It's a particular kind of loneliness, realizing the institution you lead may not be the one that sustains you. So I asked the question that had been sitting underneath everything: who has become your community? Your foundation, as you've grown through this role? The answers: An executive coach. A Signal group chat. A fellow ED who became a resource-sharing partner. A community of Black peers in a predominantly white region. Family. Partners who make sure phones get put away at home. And for at least one person: I don't think I've found it just yet.
What surprised me the most was how many leaders pointed to each other as the answer. Folks who were strangers (or just acquaintances) a year ago are now part of each other's foundation. That didn't happen because we scheduled it. It happened because trust was built slowly and honestly over a shared year of hard things. Adrienne maree brown said it best: [relationships] move at the speed of trust. And this cohort spent a year earning it.
In a reflection near the end of the session, one attendee shared, “I really could not connect with joy last year. But since the ED Intensive, I have been able to find a lot more time to prioritize myself and my well-being. Thinking less and being more.” I have to say, when I think of what sustainable leadership means at its core, this is it. This is why this space matters. And it’s why we will keep investing in it.
The ED Sustainability Intensive works not because we have all the answers, but because we create a container where leaders can find each other. Where someone can admit to imposter syndrome in a room full of peers. Where a person can say, “I haven't found my community yet” and be received, not fixed. An executive director's work is isolating by design. This program exists to interrupt that isolation and explicitly name that the health of a leader and the health of an organization are not separate. They are inextricably linked. The leaders in this cohort are proof. A year out, they are more grounded, more boundaried, and more connected than when we started. Their organizations are stronger because they are. That's the data point. That's the case. And it's one we intend to keep building.
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