At the 2025 Charting Our Future conference, Dr. Tafona Ervin delivered a powerful opening address that met the moment with clarity, courage, and conviction. Acknowledging the weight of today’s political and social climate, Dr. Ervin challenged attendees to remember their collective power, even as commitments to diversity, equity, and inclusion face unprecedented backlash. Her message: True systems change is built in community, and the work of justice cannot, and will not, be silenced. Read her full remarks below.
It’s an honor to welcome you all to the fifth annual Charting Our Future conference.
This milestone feels different this year. Heavier.
When we launched this conference virtually in 2021, we were emerging from a year that shook the very foundation of our society.
A global pandemic.
Police brutality.
Racial injustice.
Deepening political division.
These crises collided, forcing a national reckoning. Organizations across every sector responded. They pledged commitments to anti-racism. They began the hard, necessary, and long-overdue work of embedding equity into their cultures, policies, and practices.
And yet, just five years later, we’re seeing those very commitments being rolled back. Under pressure and under threat, institutions are retreating. For many, sustaining their organization and protecting the livelihood of their staff means scaling back or abandoning the very DEI commitments they once championed.
We’re living in a time where the very idea of equity itself is under attack.
Where diversity and inclusion are weaponized into divisive rhetoric.
Where books that tell our stories are banned.
Where voices speaking truth to power are silenced.
Where protections for our most vulnerable are dismantled with the stroke of a pen.
But friends, this is not new.
Every generation has faced backlash for inching toward justice. For every step forward, there’s been a calculated attempt to make us doubt our progress, our purpose, and our power. To make us doubt what’s even possible.
Because that is their strategy:
To shock us.
To intimidate us.
To make us feel scattered, small, and powerless.
But we know better. We’ve seen this before. And every time, we rise stronger, more united, more determined. .
Looking around this room, what I see is powerful. And it’s powerful because of who is here today – nonprofit leaders, advocates, mentors, educators, students. You’re not just representing your organization. You’re representing something greater: the power of us.
Let me be clear, this is not just a tagline. It’s a declaration.
Because here in Tacoma…
In Spanaway…
In Lakewood…
In Puyallup…
In every afterschool program and school hallway…
We know what’s possible when communities lead.
When policies shift and fear spreads, something else rises:
A quiet courage.
A collective refusal.
A groundswell of coordinated action from people who refuse to lose.
We’ve taken righteous rage and transformed it into collective power. And in this moment, we cannot afford to retreat. We must remember who we are, how we got here, and what we are capable of together.
Yes, we are better together. But what often gets lost in the noise is how we work together.
The noise, real or manufactured, distracts us. It confuses and divides us. It pits us against each other. It forces us into a scarcity mindset and siloed strategies, threatening the very systems we’re trying to build.
Now don’t get me wrong, I am not suggesting that this moment doesn’t come with real consequences. It does.
We see families hiding.
We know layoffs are rising.
We feel the impacts of inflation compounding with every reckless decision made by this administration and the ones before it.
That’s not just noise. It’s real harm that we the people have to bear.
However, it’s also true that the chaos is being amplified. Fueled by misinformation, rushed advice, and contradicting guidance. And when we let that noise guide our actions, the communities we serve lose. And losing is not something we can afford.
As I approach a decade with the Foundation for Tacoma Students – an organization deeply rooted in my home, in the neighborhoods where my children play, and in the streets that my parents and their parents walked before us – I carry this work with urgency. Because the struggles we face today echo through generations. I’ve lived them as a student. I’ve watched them affect my children. And I refuse to let them define our future.
Backbone organizations like ours exist to align. To help us stay rooted in our shared goals, even as the ground beneath us shifts.
Because true leadership isn’t confined to one voice. Leadership, in its most powerful form, is many voices moving in unison, with integrity, committed to something bigger than ourselves.
True systems change doesn’t trickle down. It rises up from community. It’s built in relationships, rooted in trust, and supported by collective strength.
We must be both pragmatic and principled. Adaptive, yet unwavering in our values. The true test of our commitment is not when the path is clear, but when it isn’t.
And we at the Foundation are not exempt to this. Like many of you, we took on too much during the pandemic. We overextended. We lost our convening power. But we are regrounding ourselves. And what we know is that our students are not just a line item. Our work is not charity. It’s justice.
I want you to imagine for a moment a place where every displaced child is met with open hearts and open doors. Where the trauma they carry is met with love, not labels. That’s what Amara and Hopesparks are building every day.
Or imagine young people finding purpose and belonging, not just in the classroom, but after school as well. That’s what Beyond the Bell is creating.
Now imagine a community where mentors don’t just guide youth through school, but walk with them through life. That’s the commitment Friends of the Children makes.
Imagine a place where every student’s story begins with possibility, not poverty. That’s what Palmer Scholars believes in.
Imagine a future where mental health isn’t a luxury, but a lifeline.
That’s what Kids Mental Health Pierce County is pushing forward.
This is what happens when community steps in. When organizations don’t just coexist. They collaborate and build a web of support so strong, no child can fall through the cracks.
That’s the world we’re building. And that’s the Power of Us.
The resistance isn’t only at the Capitol. It’s right here…in places like Bethell Schools, where a centralized hub supports students when no other services are available.
It’s at Franklin Pierce, where refugee families are embraced when the government says they should be deported for just living peacefully.
It’s at Mt. Tahoma, where community partners show up with pop-up FAFSA support, offering students and their families personalized support.
It’s in the shared service agreements between organizations like Tacoma Arts Live, Greentrike, Boys & Girls Club and YMCA, building more coordinated expanded learning systems.
And It’s also in organizations like ours, building infrastructure to scale what works, turning public investments into lasting impact.
So during a time where we are forced to believe we must hide our truth and jeopardize our collaborative efforts to help every child achieve success, I say to you all. Let’s go underground. Give them their passive front-facing language.
Forego naming DEI to appease those who know nothing about mission driven work.
Rewrite your mission statement if you must. But behind the curtain, let’s build something unstoppable.
A modern-day underground education movement. One Harriet would be proud of.
And let’s do so knowing that the very communities we serve – already burdened by the system – don’t need to worry about yet another thing that they have no capacity to take on.
Yes, we are being tested and targeted. But we’ve been here before. And every time, we’ve innovated, adapted, and led.
Let us do it again!
Let us shift culture.
Let us rewrite the narrative.
Let us build, fail, learn, and try again.
Let us be bold. Let us be relentless.
Let us be us.
The power of us lives in the stories we share, the risks we take, and the bridges we build. It thrives in our joint advocacy, in our practical solutions, and in the creative ways we move resources where they’re needed most.
The power of us must also be restored. Through joy, community, and through rest.
Let this space be one of restoration. A place to breathe, to be seen, to pour into each other and refuel. Because when we’re at our best, our kids get our best.
So I leave you with this:
Lean in.
Stay focused.
Keep investing in what matters most:
our youth,
our communities,
and each other.
