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Daily news & progressive opinion—funded by the people, not the corporations—delivered straight to your inbox.
History is protected by those who collect, preserve, and share the facts.
We are living through a period of profound uncertainty and systemic challenge—where erasure of truth and history is not only possible, but actively underway.
As a librarian, I bear witness not only to the crisis but to the opportunity: History is protected by those who collect, preserve, and share the facts, and the archive becomes a battleground where every saved photograph, flyer, email, playlist, program, and story is an act of resistance.
Let this be painfully clear: The future will only remember what is preserved today, and the choice is between standing by as stories are diluted or destroyed—or fighting for the record, for the archive, and for the truth with steady, everyday work that anyone can participate in. The war over narrative is here, and ownership of legacy cannot be outsourced, because no one else will know the names, dates, slang, inside jokes, or quiet heroism that define a community’s life.
Sometimes it feels like things are coming apart, and if attention is not paid now, stories—who people are and what has been seen—might disappear for good.
If the caring comes too late, the evidence may already be gone, which is why telling stories and saving the truth matters not just for now but for those who inherit the consequences and possibilities.
The old Jay Z line, “Nobody wins when the family feuds,” lands because silence inside a community becomes absent in the archive, which later becomes absent in the official story, in classrooms, policy, and memory itself.
Are we prepared to wake up only when it is too late, when the consequences directly affect our own families, our block, our congregation, our civic clubs, our schools?
Understand this: It is already impacting daily life, and the fight for story and legacy is happening right now, whether it is acknowledged or not.
History shows that those who seek to erase, distort, or control a people’s story often target libraries, archives, teachers, records, and public forums first.
Even in times of repression, clandestine diaries, underground newsletters, and quietly kept ledgers ensured truths could be reconstructed later, and that same imperative presses upon the present: Document clearly, share responsibly, preserve redundantly, and hold the line until silence cannot take root.
If the caring comes too late, the evidence may already be gone, which is why telling stories and saving the truth matters not just for now but for those who inherit the consequences and possibilities.
Some systems are actively reshaping what counts as “official,” especially where histories of self-defense, mutual aid, organizing, and everyday cultural brilliance live, and if those are not written down, recorded, and stored safely, they can be excluded from the record that shapes future understanding and power.
This is not about one person or one group—it is about building a durable, collective record that includes the messy parts, the small details, the contradictions, and the joy.
Recordkeepers, librarians, archivists, genealogists, teachers, artists, and elders carry a heavy responsibility, but this work is also neighborly, teachable, and doable at kitchen tables, barbershops, churches, community centers, and school hallways.
If there is one takeaway, it is this: If the future matters, start saving things now, even if imperfectly. Write the story, label the photo, date the flyer, back up the voice memo, and share what is known in forms that can travel, be understood, and be retrieved later.
Start small and steady: one labeled photo, one recorded memory, one folder that makes sense to someone else tomorrow, and one backup in a safe place, repeated week after week until a living archive appears.
Because nobody wins if silence is allowed to do the writing, and the time to act is right now so that the record stands, speaks, and protects those who come next.
Workers are reorganizing their workplaces, yes—and they’re also building something more. They’re pushing for deeper, systemic changes that go beyond just wages and benefits. They’re pushing for a culture of fairness, transparency, and collective power.
As we look to the future, the path forward is clearer than ever. The world of work is shifting, and with it the way we govern ourselves, care for each other, and build organizations. In this new era, our future is collective. The rise of worker-led organization—those where shared leadership and shared responsibility are the backbone of decision-making—is not a mere trend; it’s a transformation in how we understand power and community. The change has already begun, and the seeds planted in collective governance are sprouting in real time.
But for these models to thrive, they need commitment from all sides. It requires those at the top and those coming down from the top to be vocal in their support, to model the behaviors of shared power, and to make space for others to lead. Workers, too, need to lean in, both to do their jobs and to take responsibility for the whole. It’s uncomfortable at times—asking people to take ownership of something that isn’t just theirs but all of ours, and allowing leaders to step back and let others lead. But in this discomfort, growth happens. The challenges are real, but so are the possibilities. When we create spaces where everyone is invited to participate, to have a say, and to lead in their own way, it opens up a whole new world of possibility. It’s not just about fairness or equality; it’s about creating a better, more supportive way of working together. And we’re seeing this already in places like the nonprofit sector, where workers are pushing back against the “do more with less” mentality that has so often dominated our culture, even in social justice spaces.
Workers are reorganizing their workplaces, yes—and they’re also building something more. They’re pushing for deeper, systemic changes that go beyond just wages and benefits. They’re pushing for a culture of fairness, transparency, and collective power. The rise in worker-led governance models in the non-profit sector (along with a renewed surge in public-sector union organizing) is showing us that people are ready to reclaim power, not only in how much they’re paid or what benefits they receive, but in how decisions are made and how they’re treated. Nonprofits especially are looking at their internal structures and realizing that they need to change. It’s a slow, steady process, but it’s happening. Workers are taking control, demanding fair treatment, and saying, “We deserve better—and we can create it.” But as the great thought leader Audre Lorde reminds us, achieving real liberation takes more than a fight against oppression; it requires a thorough deconstruction and rebuilding of the systems that perpetuate it. The challenge here is not only to fix the problems we see but also to dismantle the structures of power that created them in the first place. This is why shifting from a strictly hierarchical, top-down system to one of participatory, collective governance isn’t just about equity and inclusion—it’s about the profound and necessary act of rebuilding how we work, how we lead, and how we treat one another. It’s about justice. We are not simply asking for better conditions within the old systems. We are evolving into something new.
But let’s be real: it’s not going to happen overnight. It takes time—at least three to five years of sustained effort—for real transformation to occur within an organization. And we can’t expect perfection from the start. Transforming how we work, how we lead, and how we make decisions is a long-term investment. It takes time, patience, and a willingness to be uncomfortable. It takes experimenting, making mistakes, learning from them, and trying again. The kind of collective governance we dream of doesn’t happen in one big leap; it happens through incremental progress. We start with small changes, perhaps by creating a new decision-making process in a team, or introducing a regular meeting for everyone to voice their concerns. It’s in the small, intentional shifts that we begin to build something bigger.
This is our generation’s work: to create organizations that are efficient and serve an immediate need while also being holistic and human-centered—organizations where everyone has a voice and every person feels empowered and accountable.
I’ve seen this up close. When I was part of Pangea Legal Services, we took a step toward formalized co-governance, and it was far from easy. At first, I found myself reluctant to relinquish control and let others take the lead, especially when I thought I knew better. I had to learn to trust others, reconcile my ego, lean back, and allow mistakes to happen. But over time we saw how much stronger we became. When leadership was shared and decisions were made collectively, we found new ways of doing things—sometimes better ways than I could have imagined. And the results were there: The year after I left, my colleagues continued to thrive and raised millions of dollars in new, unrestricted funding—an extraordinary achievement for a twenty-person nonprofit, especially after a founder transition. We continually proved to ourselves that this model works, and it was because we made the decision to embrace collective leadership, even when it was hard.
When we look to history for guidance, we can see how seemingly small and thoughtful actions have led to enormous change. In the 1960s, the Black Panther Party launched its Free Breakfast for Children program, not as a temporary fix but as a way to meet basic needs and challenge systemic inequalities. What began as free school breakfasts in local communities eventually inspired state-wide programs and national policies. Meaningful change often starts small—one organization, one community, one movement at a time. If we want to transform the future, we have to start where we are and build from there. We have to live the change we want to see now. We have the power to create the future we envision; the key is to begin practicing it every day in our workplaces, our homes, and our communities.
This is our generation’s work: to create organizations that are efficient and serve an immediate need while also being holistic and human-centered—organizations where everyone has a voice and every person feels empowered and accountable. We will create spaces where workers can lead and decision-making is shared, and we will build systems that reflect our deepest values of care, respect, and justice. This vision is not a distant dream. It’s happening now, and each of us has a role to play.
So where do we begin? There are as many starting points as there are individuals and organizations, but one thing is clear: We begin with values and points of unity. We ground ourselves in shared values, we build relationships, and we create what we can with what we have. We don’t wait for the perfect conditions. And in this practice, in this steady, deliberate work of transforming our workplaces from the inside out, we create a future that reflects our highest aspirations.
Change starts with the choices we make and the values we commit to embodying. Each time we prioritize collaboration over competition, equity over expediency, and care over control, we lay the groundwork for something transformative. As these principles take root in our actions and relationships, the change deepens and expands, offering not just a new way of working but a new way of being together. We may not have all the answers yet, but we have the capacity to shape the future. And that future is collective.
From The Future Is Collective by Niloufar Khonsari, published by North Atlantic Books, copyright © 2025 by Niloufar Khonsari. Reprinted by permission of North Atlantic Books.
Mamdani’s win comes as youth voter registration is climbing across the board. And it’s not because anyone suddenly handed us hope; it’s because we’ve been forced to create it for ourselves.
As someone who’ll soon join those ranks of “first-time voters,” witnessing 33‑year‑old Democrat Socialist Zohran Mamdani defeat a seasoned political heavyweight like Andrew Cuomo feels revolutionary. Watching what’s happening right now—watching young people turn their disillusionment into infrastructure, their rage into organizing—makes it clear: The next generation is coming in hot.
The numbers say it all. According to the Financial Times, 52% of voters under 45 backed Mamdani. Cuomo only got 18%. A remarkable age gap, it’s a generation breaking up the political status quo. And what’s even more staggering? So many of Mamdani’s voters were casting a ballot for the very first time.
We’ve been told for years that young people don’t vote. That we’re apathetic, distracted, too caught up in our phones to care about policy. But this election shattered that myth. The campaigns were built on grassroots energy. To mobilize voters, especially newbies, Mamdani’s team organized over 46,000 volunteers and knocked on more than 1 million doors. And, the people showed up like their lives depended on it—because in so many ways, they do. Youth voter registration is climbing across the board. And it’s not because anyone suddenly handed us hope; it’s because we’ve been forced to create it for ourselves.
So to my fellow future voters, my peers who are just now stepping into the political arena: This is our moment!
Our generation was raised on crisis. Climate collapse. School shootings. Incredibly normalized economic anxiety. We don’t remember a world before mass surveillance, before “once-in-a-century” storms became routine. So, we’re pushing for better with everything we’ve got.
Mamdani’s campaign won because it was real. He spoke in a language of inclusion that we understand. His unapologetic support of human rights and liberation for all, including the Palestinians, resonated with us. His promises—affordable housing, public transit, community-owned groceries—speak directly to the world we’re inheriting. The one we’re expected to fix.
All of this is happening against the backdrop of Donald Trump’s presidency, which continues to cast a long, toxic shadow. But even his chaos doesn’t scare us as much as apathy does. Because what scares me, more than another four years of extremism, is the possibility that people will sit this one out. That they’ll believe the lie that nothing ever changes. That the game is rigged. But Mamdani’s win proves otherwise. When we organize, we win. When we show up, we matter. And we are showing up as strategists and leaders.
So to my fellow future voters, my peers who are just now stepping into the political arena: This is our moment! We are deliberate. We are strategic. You don’t have to be a politician to change the game. You just have to show up, again and again, until they can’t ignore you anymore.