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Voices, Courage, and Practices for a Shared Future

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Voices, Courage, and Practices for a Shared Future

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The Global Compassionate Women Project is a living exploration of how women across cultures, generations, and disciplines embody compassion—not as sentiment, but as action, courage, and commitment. At a time when the world is marked by division, ecological crisis, democratic fragility, and deep social wounds, this project asks a simple and urgent question:

What can we learn from women who have chosen compassion when it was difficult, costly, or countercultural—and how can we live those lessons now?

This project honors women not as distant heroes, but as teachers—women whose lives show us how compassion takes shape in real conditions: through listening, care, truth-telling, creativity, resistance, and repair.

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In this project, compassion is understood as a relational practice—the ability to see, feel with, and respond to suffering in ways that restore dignity and possibility. Compassion is not passive. It moves us:

from isolation to relationship

from silence to voice

from harm to repair

from despair to shared responsibility

Compassion shows up in many forms: in governance and classrooms, in song and poetry, in environmental stewardship, in peacebuilding, and in the daily acts that sustain community life.

A defining feature of the Global Compassionate Women Project is its commitment to translation—moving from admiration to application.

You are invited to engage through:

personal reflection and daily practices

intergenerational dialogue

community-based action

youth-led learning and leadership

music, poetry, and contemplative listening

circles of trust and shared inquiry

The goal is not to replicate any one woman’s life, but to activate compassion as a lived capacity in ourselves and in the places we belong.

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Women have long carried the work of care, continuity, and moral courage—often without recognition, protection, or power. Today, women and girls are also among those most affected by climate change, conflict, inequality, and displacement. And yet, across the globe, women continue to lead with imagination, resilience, and compassion.

This project does not suggest that compassion belongs only to women. Rather, it recognizes that women’s lived experiences offer essential wisdom for building a more humane and sustainable world—and that this wisdom must be named, shared, and practiced.

The Global Compassionate Women Project is not a static archive. It is a living, growing ecosystem shaped by stories, relationships, and collective learning.

We invite you to:

listen deeply

learn across difference

reflect honestly

practice compassion where you live

and help carry these lessons forward—especially with and for the next generation

In a world that often rewards speed, certainty, and domination, this project chooses another path: Attention. Relationship. Courage. Care. That path, again and again, has been walked—and sung—by compassionate women across the globe.

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The Global Compassionate Women Project is a living, collaborative gallery honoring women across the world—past and present—whose lives reflect compassion in action. We invite you to help grow this gallery.

Who Can Be Nominated?

You may submit:

A globally known woman or a lesser-known woman

A woman from any country, culture, or generation

An elder, a contemporary leader, or a young woman

Someone working locally or globally

Someone whose compassion is expressed through: environment & climate care, education & youth empowerment, peacebuilding & justice, health & healing, politics & civic life, music, art, poetry, or storytelling, community care or grassroots leadership

She may be someone you admire—or someone you know personally. When adding a post to the Padlet, please include as many of the following elements as you can. Short reflections are welcome—depth matters more than length. 1. Name (Who is she?), 2. Location / Cultural Context (Country, region, community, or cultural background (if known), 3. Why You See Her as a Compassionate Woman (In a few sentences: What drew you to her?, What challenge or injustice did she respond to?,Who or what did she care for?)

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Autumn Peltier speaks for those who cannot speak for themselves—water, future generations, and Indigenous knowledge systems long ignored or dismissed. From a young age, she has carried herself not as a symbol, but as a steward, reminding the world that water is not a commodity, but a living relative. Her leadership reframes environmental action as a moral responsibility rooted in relationship, ceremony, and care. In moments when global conversations about climate become abstract or technical, Autumn brings us back to what is essential: without clean water, there is no life.

“We can’t eat money or drink oil.”

Her Story: What Shaped Her

Autumn was raised within Anishinaabe teachings that understand water as sacred and women as traditional water carriers. From an early age, she witnessed the effects of water contamination on Indigenous communities across Canada—boil-water advisories, health impacts, and systemic neglect. Guided by her aunt, the late Josephine Mandamin—herself a respected water protector—Autumn learned that caring for water is both a spiritual responsibility and a form of leadership. Rather than inheriting despair, she inherited purpose.

What She Did

Became an international advocate for clean water while still a child

Addressed global leaders at international forums, including the United Nations

Challenged political leaders directly on their commitments to Indigenous communities

Served as Chief Water Commissioner for the Anishinabek Nation

Helped elevate Indigenous voices and knowledge systems in global climate conversations

She speaks calmly but firmly to power

She centers ceremony and relationship rather than confrontation

She consistently names the human and ecological cost of inaction

She carries ancestral wisdom into modern institutions without dilution

Lessons We Can Carry Forward

1. Care for the Earth is care for each other

2. Youth leadership is not preparation—it is participation

3. Indigenous knowledge is essential to global survival

4. Speaking gently does not mean speaking weakly

5. Responsibility grows from relationship, not authority

Living Her Legacy: Practices for Our Lives

Personal Practice

Learn where your water comes from. Offer one moment of gratitude each day for the water you use.

Relational Practice

Listen to Indigenous voices in your region. Learn whose land you live on and what water systems sustain your community.

Community Practice

Advocate for clean water access locally—especially for marginalized or Indigenous communities. Support organizations led by those most impacted.

Questions for Reflection or Dialogue

What would change if I treated water as a living relative?

How does my daily life depend on systems I rarely notice?

What responsibility do I have to future generations?

Where can youth voices be centered more fully in my community?

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Born to Iraqi immigrant parents—both physicians—Mona grew up with a deep sense of responsibility to community and an understanding of what it means to live with instability, displacement, and the consequences of failed governance. Her upbringing emphasized service, ethics, and speaking up for those without voice.

As a pediatrician in Flint, Michigan, she witnessed rising blood lead levels in children after the city’s water source was switched. When officials denied the problem, she relied on her training, her data, and her conscience.

Mona Hanna-Attisha matters because she showed the world what compassion looks like when it refuses to stay silent. As a pediatrician, she did what doctors are trained to do—protect children—but when evidence of lead poisoning in Flint’s water supply was ignored and dismissed, she took the extraordinary step of confronting political power with scientific truth. Her leadership reminds us that compassion is not only bedside care; it is moral courage in public, especially when vulnerable communities are at risk.

“I did my job as a doctor.”

What She Did

Led the research that revealed elevated lead levels in Flint children

Publicly released findings when government agencies denied the crisis

Endured attacks on her credibility while continuing to advocate for families

Helped catalyze national awareness of infrastructure injustice

Continues to work on long-term recovery, child development, and trauma-informed care

Mona did not become an activist by choice—activism became the necessary expression of care.

Costs, Challenges, and Tensions

Public scrutiny and political backlash

Threats to professional reputation

Emotional toll of witnessing preventable harm

Ongoing struggle for accountability and repair

Why this matters:
Compassion in systems often demands personal risk, especially from women who challenge authority.

Lessons We Can Carry Forward

1. Care sometimes requires confrontation

2. Expertise carries responsibility—not neutrality

3. Children’s health reflects social values

4. Truth is a form of compassion

5. Repair must be long-term, not symbolic

Living Her Legacy: Practices for Our Lives

A. Personal Practice

Pay attention to the systems that support your daily life—water, air, food, housing. Ask who is most vulnerable when they fail.

B. Relational Practice

Listen to community voices before official statements. Believe people when they describe harm.

C. Community Practice

Advocate for environmental and public health accountability. Support policies and organizations that protect children and marginalized communities.

Questions for Reflection or Dialogue

When does silence become harm?

How do professional ethics intersect with civic responsibility?

What would it mean to use my skills in service of the vulnerable?

Where is repair still unfinished in my community?

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Born into a modest rural family, Oum Kalthoum learned Qur’anic recitation from her father, a village imam. This early training shaped her mastery of language, breath, and emotional precision. As she moved from village performances to Cairo’s grand stages, she navigated class barriers, gender expectations, and artistic scrutiny—slowly becoming the most revered voice in the Arab world.

She lived through Egypt’s struggle for independence and the rise of Arab nationalism, and her music became inseparable from the emotional life of the region.

Oum Kalthoum matters because her voice carried collective emotion—grief, longing, devotion, resilience—across borders, classes, and generations. In times of colonialism, war, political upheaval, and social change, she offered something rare and essential: a shared emotional language. Her concerts were not entertainment alone; they were communal rituals where millions listened together, breathed together, and felt less alone. Through song, she practiced compassion as presence, dignity, and emotional truth.

“My voice is the soul of my people

What She Did

Became the most influential singer in the Arab-speaking world

Transformed classical Arabic poetry into shared emotional experience

Used her platform to support national causes and post-war rebuilding

Created monthly radio concerts that brought millions into simultaneous listening

Elevated Arabic language, poetry, and music as sources of dignity and unity

Oum Kalthoum did not rush emotion—she allowed people to stay with it until it softened. Her compassion was slow, expansive, and deeply relational.

Costs, Challenges, and Tensions

Enormous public pressure and expectation

A life lived largely in service to collective identity

Navigating politics while remaining an artist

Limited private life under constant public gaze

Why this matters:
Compassion that holds millions can come at the cost of personal freedom.

Lessons We Can Carry Forward

1. Shared listening builds community

2. Slowness can be a form of care

3. Beauty sustains people through hardship

4. Language and culture are vessels of dignity

5. Emotion deserves time, not suppression

Living Her Legacy: Practices for Our Lives

A. Personal Practice

Listen to a piece of music without multitasking. Stay with it longer than feels comfortable.

B. Relational Practice

Create space for others to express grief or longing without rushing them toward solutions.

C. Community Practice

Host a shared listening or storytelling circle where emotion is welcomed—not managed.

Questions for Reflection or Dialogue

What happens when we allow emotion to unfold slowly?

Where in my life do I rush past feeling?

How can shared cultural experiences foster compassion?

What does collective healing sound like today?

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Born into a working-class family in Italy, Modotti migrated as a teenager, laboring in factories before becoming an artist. In Mexico in the 1920s—amid post-revolutionary ferment—she found a home for her political conscience and artistic vision. Influenced by muralists, poets, and organizers, she turned from pictorial art toward photography that named social reality. Her life unfolded across borders and conflicts: Mexico, exile, the Spanish Civil War. Again and again, she chose solidarity over safety.

“I consider myself a photographer, nothing more.”

Tina Modotti matters because she insisted that art belongs to the people—and that beauty and justice are not opposites. Through photography, political organizing, and international solidarity, she used her life to stand with workers, women, the poor, and the displaced.

Modotti practiced compassion as clear seeing: she refused sentimentality and instead offered images that honored dignity, labor, and collective struggle. Her work asks us not just to feel—but to take responsibility.

What She Did

Created photographic work centering workers, women, Indigenous people, and everyday labor

Rejected aestheticism detached from social reality

Participated in anti-fascist and humanitarian efforts during the Spanish Civil War

Used her skills—logistical, artistic, organizational—in service of collective causes

Helped redefine photography as a tool of social conscience

Modotti did not document suffering from afar—she stood inside it, accountable to the people she portrayed.

The Compassion Practice at the Heart of Her Work

Primary practices: Witnessing, Solidarity, Truth-telling without ornament

Her compassion was unsentimental, embodied, and political.

Costs, Challenges, and Tensions

Surveillance, exile, and political persecution

Loss of artistic career stability

Erasure and misrepresentation after her death

A life lived largely without personal comfort

Lessons We Can Carry Forward

1. Art can be a form of service

2. Seeing clearly is an ethical act

3. Dignity does not need decoration

4. Solidarity crosses borders

5. Humility strengthens commitment

Living Her Legacy: Practices for Our Lives

A. Personal Practice

Notice the labor behind everyday life—food, clothing, transport—and acknowledge it with gratitude and respect.

B. Relational Practice

Listen to workers’ stories without interruption or interpretation. Let people name their own experience.

C. Community Practice

Support artists, journalists, and organizers who center marginalized voices and tell difficult truths.

Questions for Reflection or Dialogue

What does it mean to witness without exploiting?

How can creativity serve justice today?

What am I willing to give up for what I believe?

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Born into a family shaped by India’s independence movement and Gandhian philosophy, Ela Bhatt grew up with a deep respect for nonviolence, self-reliance, and collective action. Trained as a lawyer, she initially worked with textile unions, where she encountered women whose labor fell outside formal definitions of “work.”

Rather than trying to fit these women into existing systems, Bhatt asked a radical question: What if the system itself is wrong?

“Poverty is the worst form of violence.”

Ela Bhatt matters because she redefined compassion as economic dignity. At a time when millions of women’s labor was invisible—home-based workers, street vendors, agricultural laborers—Bhatt insisted that compassion must include rights, income, and voice. She did not frame poor women as recipients of charity, but as workers, leaders, and agents of change. Through her life’s work, she showed that compassion becomes transformative when it reshapes systems so people can sustain themselves with dignity.

What She Did

Founded the Self-Employed Women’s Association (SEWA) in 1972

Organized millions of informal-sector women workers across India

Helped create cooperatives, banks, childcare systems, and health services

Advocated internationally for recognition of informal labor

Demonstrated that economic justice and nonviolence can coexist

Bhatt did not “empower” women—she organized conditions in which women empowered themselves.

Costs, Challenges, and Tensions

Resistance from formal labor institutions

Skepticism from policymakers and economists

The slow pace of structural change

Constant negotiation between idealism and pragmatism

Compassion that changes systems requires long-term commitment, not quick wins.

Lessons We Can Carry Forward

1. Economic dignity is a human right

2. Listening is a leadership skill

3. Cooperation builds resilience

4. Informal work is real work

5. Sustainable change grows from the grassroots

Living Her Legacy: Practices for Our Lives

A. Personal Practice

Learn whose labor sustains your daily life—food workers, caregivers, cleaners—and acknowledge it with respect.

B. Relational Practice

Support cooperatives, mutual aid networks, and worker-led initiatives in your community.

C. Community Practice

Advocate for policies that recognize and protect informal and care-based labor, especially for women.

Questions for Reflection or Dialogue

Who does invisible work in my community?

How does economic insecurity limit compassion?

What would cooperation look like instead of competition?

How can dignity be built into systems, not just intentions?

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Hindou Oumarou Ibrahim matters because she brings the wisdom of the land into the halls of global power. A leader from the Mbororo pastoralist community, she has become one of the most respected voices linking climate change, Indigenous rights, and peace. Hindou reminds the world that climate crisis is not only an environmental issue—it is a human, cultural, and moral crisis. Her compassion is rooted in relationship: to land, water, animals, and communities whose survival depends on them.

“Indigenous peoples are not victims of climate change—we are solutions.”

Hindou grew up in Chad, a country deeply affected by desertification, drought, and conflict over shrinking natural resources. As a member of the Mbororo people—nomadic pastoralists whose lives depend on seasonal migration—she learned early how environmental degradation fuels displacement and violence. Rather than separating tradition from modernity, Hindou chose to translate Indigenous knowledge into global language, ensuring that those most affected by climate change are heard where decisions are made.

What She Did

Co-founded the Association for Indigenous Women and Peoples of Chad (AFPAT)

Advocated for Indigenous inclusion at the United Nations and international climate forums

Led participatory mapping projects that integrate Indigenous knowledge with modern science

Spoke globally on the links between climate change, conflict, and migration

Elevated the leadership of Indigenous women in climate solutions

Hindou does not argue against science—she expands it.

Costs, Challenges, and Tensions

Representing communities historically excluded from power

Navigating global institutions not designed for Indigenous voices

Carrying the urgency of climate crisis alongside cultural responsibility

Balancing local accountability with international visibility

Lessons We Can Carry Forward

1. Those closest to the problem often hold the solutions

2. Climate justice is inseparable from human dignity

3. Listening is a form of leadership

4. Peace depends on ecological balance

5. Women are essential climate negotiators

Living Her Legacy: Practices for Our Lives

A. Personal Practice

Learn whose land you live on and how climate change affects your local ecosystem.

B. Relational Practice

Listen to Indigenous and frontline voices before forming opinions on climate solutions.

C. Community Practice

Support policies and initiatives that include Indigenous leadership in environmental decision-making.

Questions for Reflection or Dialogue

Who bears the greatest cost of climate change in my region?

What knowledge systems do we undervalue?

How can environmental care prevent conflict?

What does climate compassion look like where I live?

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Raised in the Himalayan foothills, Vandana Shiva grew up with a deep relationship to forests, rivers, and subsistence farming. Trained as a physicist, she initially worked in systems theory, but soon recognized that dominant economic and scientific models excluded ecological wisdom and human costs.

Rather than choosing between science and tradition, she chose to challenge the assumptions of both, insisting that Indigenous knowledge, women’s labor, and biodiversity are essential forms of intelligence.

“The future of food is a future of care.”

Vandana Shiva matters because she reframed environmentalism as a question of life, dignity, and democracy. Long before climate change became mainstream, she warned that industrial agriculture, seed monopolies, and extractive economics were forms of violence—against the Earth and against the poor. Her compassion is rooted in the protection of seed, soil, water, and small farmers, especially women, who sustain life yet are most often marginalized.

What She Did

Founded Navdanya, a seed-saving and biodiversity movement

Helped protect thousands of native seed varieties across India

Challenged corporate control of seeds, water, and food systems

Advocated globally for food sovereignty and ecological justice

Elevated women farmers as custodians of life and resilience

Shiva does not treat nature as a resource—she treats it as a living system with rights.

Costs, Challenges, and Tensions

Strong opposition from corporate and political interests

Criticism for uncompromising positions

Navigating polarized debates on science and technology

Carrying the weight of long-term ecological urgency

Lessons We Can Carry Forward

1. Caring for the Earth is a political act

2. Biodiversity is a form of resilience

3. Women are central to food security

4. Local knowledge matters

5. Resistance can be rooted in love, not anger

Living Her Legacy: Practices for Our Lives

A. Personal Practice

Learn where your food comes from. Choose foods that support soil health and local farmers when possible.

B. Relational Practice

Listen to farmers, gardeners, and Indigenous food keepers. Treat food knowledge as wisdom.

C. Community Practice

Support seed libraries, community gardens, and policies that protect small-scale agriculture and biodiversity.

Questions for Reflection or Dialogue

Who controls the food I eat?

What systems benefit when diversity is erased?

How is care expressed through farming and food?

What does food justice look like in my community?

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The daughter of Cuban immigrants, Esther Salas grew up with a deep respect for hard work, fairness, and public service. Rising through the legal profession, she became the first Latina federal judge in New Jersey. Her career reflected a commitment to justice rooted in humility and discipline. In 2020, her life changed forever when an assailant targeted her family, killing her 20-year-old son and seriously injuring her husband. Faced with grief that could have silenced her, Judge Salas chose instead to speak for safety, accountability, and reform.

Judge Esther Salas matters because she embodies compassion forged in unimaginable loss—and transformed into public courage. After the tragic murder of her son, Daniel Anderl, in a targeted attack at her home, Judge Salas chose a path that few could imagine: she stepped forward to protect others. Rather than retreating into private grief, she turned pain into advocacy, working tirelessly to strengthen judicial security and to prevent gun violence. Her life testifies that compassion is not passive—it is the choice to protect life, even when one’s own heart is broken.

What She Did

Became a leading advocate for judicial security reform

Helped advance bipartisan legislation protecting judges and their families

Spoke publicly about gun violence and extremist threats

Founded the Daniel Anderl Judicial Security and Privacy Project

Modeled ethical leadership grounded in restraint and dignity

Judge Salas did not allow grief to become vengeance—she shaped it into protection for others.

Costs, Challenges, and Tensions

Living with permanent personal loss

Public visibility during grief

Navigating polarized debates on gun violence

Balancing judicial neutrality with moral responsibility

Compassion in public life often asks people to carry private pain in service of the common good.

Lessons We Can Carry Forward

1. Grief can be transformed into protection

2. Justice requires courage beyond the courtroom

3. Safety is a collective responsibility

4. Advocacy can be calm and principled

5. Love can shape law

Living Her Legacy: Practices for Our Lives

A. Personal Practice

Engage thoughtfully in conversations about safety and responsibility. Choose care over outrage.

B. Relational Practice

Support those who have experienced loss without rushing them toward “closure.”

C. Community Practice

Advocate for policies that protect public servants, educators, and communities from violence.

Questions for Reflection or Dialogue

How do we respond to violence without becoming hardened?

What does responsible citizenship require of us?

How can law reflect compassion?

What protections do those who serve the public deserve?

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Vanessa grew up in Uganda, where climate change is not theoretical—it shows up as floods, droughts, food insecurity, and displacement. Witnessing these impacts firsthand, she began organizing school strikes for climate in Kampala, often standing alone in the early days. Her global recognition surged after a moment of erasure—when her image was cropped out of a widely circulated photo of climate activists at a major international event. Rather than retreat, Vanessa named the injustice publicly, turning personal harm into a broader call for representation and equity.

“The climate crisis has always been about injustice.”

Vanessa Nakate matters because she insists that climate compassion must be inclusive—or it is not compassion at all. As one of Africa’s most visible climate justice advocates, she has challenged a global environmental movement that often centers voices from the Global North while sidelining those on the frontlines of climate harm. Vanessa reframes climate action as a matter of justice, visibility, and care for future generations, especially for communities already experiencing loss.

What She Did

Founded Rise Up Movement, amplifying African climate voices

Organized climate strikes and advocacy campaigns in Uganda

Spoke at major global forums, including COP gatherings and the UN

Advocated for climate finance and adaptation for frontline communities

Authored A Bigger Picture, articulating climate justice through lived experience

Vanessa does not ask for inclusion as charity—she demands it as justice.

Costs, Challenges, and Tensions

Public scrutiny and online harassment

Emotional labor of representing an entire continent

Navigating global spaces shaped by power imbalance

Carrying urgency alongside hope

Compassion that names injustice often invites resistance.

Lessons We Can Carry Forward

1. Visibility is a form of justice

2. Climate change is not equally caused or experienced

3. Youth leadership is present, not future

4. Speaking truth reshapes movements

5. Solidarity must be intentional

Living Her Legacy: Practices for Our Lives

A. Personal Practice

Learn whose voices are missing from conversations you care about—and why.

B. Relational Practice

Amplify voices from frontline communities rather than speaking over them.

C. Community Practice

Advocate for climate solutions that include adaptation funding and local leadership.

Questions for Reflection or Dialogue

Who is most affected by climate change where I live?

Whose voices are absent from decision-making spaces?

What does repair look like across borders?

How can visibility become a form of care?

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Born in Vienna to a Jewish family, Riane Eisler survived the rise of Nazism and fled Austria as a child. Early exposure to authoritarian violence shaped her lifelong question: Why do some societies become violent while others foster care and creativity?

Trained in law and deeply engaged with history, anthropology, and social science, Eisler began to see patterns across civilizations—patterns that challenged the assumption that domination is “human nature.”

Riane Eisler matters because she gave the world a new map of human possibility. At a time when domination—of people, nature, and power—was treated as inevitable, Eisler offered a radically compassionate alternative: the Partnership Model. Her work does not simply critique violence and hierarchy; it shows how societies can be reorganized around mutual respect, care, and shared responsibility. Eisler’s compassion is systemic—it asks not only how we treat one another, but how our institutions reward or punish care itself.

What She Did

Authored The Chalice and the Blade, reshaping understanding of cultural evolution

Developed the Partnership–Domination Continuum, used worldwide

Founded the Center for Partnership Systems

Advanced Caring Economics, reframing how societies value caregiving

Influenced education, economics, peace studies, and social policy globally

Eisler didn’t ask how to fix broken systems—she asked why we built them that way in the first place.

Costs, Challenges, and Tensions

Resistance from traditional academic and economic institutions

Mischaracterization as “idealistic” rather than empirical

Long timelines required for cultural change

Challenging deeply ingrained gender and power norms

Why this matters:
Compassion that challenges foundational assumptions often meets invisibility before acceptance.

Lessons We Can Carry Forward

1. Systems shape behavior more than individual morality

2. Caring labor is essential infrastructure

3. Violence is cultural—not inevitable

4. Gender equity is central to peace

5. Compassion must be built into institutions

Living Her Legacy: Practices for Our Lives

A. Personal Practice

Notice how care shows up in your daily life—and how often it goes unrecognized.

B. Relational Practice

Practice “power with” rather than “power over” in families, teams, and communities.

C. Community Practice

Support policies that value caregiving, education, health, and environmental stewardship.

Questions for Reflection or Dialogue

Where do domination patterns show up in my own life?

How might systems be redesigned to support care?

What would an economy built around well-being look like?

How does partnership change leadership?

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Trained as a lawyer, Razan Zaitouneh began her work long before the Syrian uprising, documenting human rights abuses under the Assad regime. She believed deeply in nonviolence, rule of law, and accountability—not as abstract ideals, but as protections for real people.

When the Syrian revolution began, Razan chose to stay. As conditions worsened, she continued to document abuses by all sides, including opposition militias—an act of integrity that made her increasingly vulnerable. In 2013, she and three colleagues were abducted in Douma. Their fate remains unknown.

Razan Zaitouneh matters because she embodied compassion without illusion. In the face of brutal repression, war, and extremism, she refused to abandon her belief in universal human dignity. Razan did not take up arms. She took up truth, law, and love for the ordinary lives caught in violence. Her work reminds us that compassion is not naïve—it is often practiced at great personal risk, with no guarantee of safety or recognition.

She stood for the idea that every life counts, regardless of political affiliation, religion, or allegiance.

“We are not numbers. We are human beings.”

What She Did

Documented human rights violations under authoritarian rule

Co-founded the Violations Documentation Center in Syria (VDC)

Advocated for detainees, disappeared persons, and civilians

Insisted on ethical consistency—condemning abuses regardless of perpetrator

Modeled nonviolent resistance grounded in law and humanity

Razan believed that justice must be universal—or it is not justice at all.

Her compassion was clear-eyed, principled, and fearless.

Costs, Challenges, and Tensions

Constant threat from state and non-state actors

Isolation within polarized movements

Living without safety, visibility, or institutional protection

Ultimate disappearance—her voice forcibly silenced

Some forms of compassion are so threatening to power that they are erased.

Lessons We Can Carry Forward

1. Compassion does not pick sides—it picks people

2. Truth is a form of protection, even when it fails to protect the truth-teller

3. Nonviolence requires extraordinary courage

4. Integrity matters most when it costs the most

5. Remembering the disappeared is an ethical act

Living Her Legacy: Practices for Our Lives

A. Personal Practice

Learn the names and stories behind conflicts. Resist abstraction.

B. Relational Practice

Refuse language that dehumanizes any group. Practice moral consistency.

C. Community Practice

Support human rights defenders, journalists, and legal advocates working under threat.

Questions for Reflection or Dialogue

What truths are hardest to tell in my own context?

Who is rendered invisible by power?

What responsibility do we have to remember the disappeared?

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Joan Halifax’s early life included deep exposure to impermanence and loss, shaping her interest in death, ritual, and the human response to suffering. Trained in anthropology, she worked with Indigenous communities and studied shamanic traditions before turning toward Zen Buddhism as a formal path.

Her long partnership with Zen teacher Bernie Glassman and her own ordination as a Zen priest grounded her insight in disciplined practice. Over time, she became especially concerned with how caregivers—doctors, nurses, chaplains, activists, and social servants—are shaped, strained, and sometimes broken by their work.

“Compassion is not a relationship between the healer and the wounded. It’s a relationship between equals.”

Roshi Joan Halifax matters because she has spent her life walking toward suffering rather than away from it—with steadiness, humility, and care. A Zen Buddhist teacher, anthropologist, and pioneer in hospice and palliative care, Halifax has shaped how compassion is understood not as sentiment, but as a trainable, embodied practice. Her work speaks directly to moments of death, grief, burnout, moral injury, and social fracture, offering a path of compassion that is resilient, ethical, and grounded.

What She Did

Founded Upaya Zen Center in New Mexico

Pioneered training programs in end-of-life care, hospice, and compassionate presence

Developed frameworks for understanding empathic distress and moral injury

Integrated contemplative practice with neuroscience, ethics, and social engagement

Mentored generations of caregivers, activists, and spiritual leaders

Key insight:
Halifax taught that compassion must include wisdom, boundaries, and courage—or it collapses into burnout.

Her compassion is steady, spacious, and disciplined.

Costs, Challenges, and Tensions

Working continually at the edge of death and grief

Naming limits in cultures that demand constant giving

Challenging romanticized ideas of compassion

Holding spiritual authority with humility

Why this matters:
Compassion without wisdom can wound the one who offers it.

Lessons We Can Carry Forward

1. Compassion can be trained

2. Presence is often more healing than action

3. Boundaries protect compassion

4. Suffering deserves dignity, not avoidance

5. Caregivers must also be cared for

Living Her Legacy: Practices for Our Lives

A. Personal Practice

Notice when empathy becomes overwhelm. Pause, breathe, and reconnect to the body.

B. Relational Practice

Practice listening without trying to fix or advise.

C. Community Practice

Create spaces—circles, pauses, rituals—where grief and exhaustion can be named safely.

Questions for Reflection or Dialogue

How do I respond to suffering—avoid, fix, or stay?

Where do I need stronger boundaries?

What practices help me return to center?

How can compassion be sustainable?

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The turning point in Valarie Kaur’s life came in the aftermath of the September 11 attacks, when a Sikh American man, Balbir Singh Sodhi, was murdered in an act of hate. Kaur was still a teenager. Instead of retreating into fear or silence, she chose to tell stories—traveling across the United States to document the experiences of communities targeted by hate.

Her journey braided together law, theology, storytelling, and organizing. Ordained as a Sikh minister and trained as a civil rights lawyer, she learned to speak across difference—naming pain while refusing dehumanization.

“Revolutionary love is the call of our times.”

Valarie Kaur matters because she reframes compassion as a public, courageous act—not a private feeling. At a time of deep polarization, racial violence, and democratic strain, Kaur calls people toward what she names “revolutionary love”: a love that insists on dignity for others, for opponents, and for oneself. Her work shows that compassion is not passive—it is a force that bends history toward justice.

What She Did

Founded the Revolutionary Love Project

Led national campaigns addressing hate crimes and civil rights

Authored See No Stranger, a manifesto for revolutionary love

Helped shape post–9/11 civil rights advocacy for Sikh, Muslim, and South Asian communities

Trained leaders and communities in love as a public ethic

Kaur insists that loving your opponent does not mean agreeing with them—it means refusing to let hatred define you.

Costs, Challenges, and Tensions

Standing in public spaces shaped by hostility and backlash

Holding grief without becoming hardened

Loving across deep ideological divides

Carrying expectations placed on women of color as moral bridges

Why this matters:
Compassion that enters politics must be resilient—or it will be crushed.

Lessons We Can Carry Forward

1. Love can be practiced as a discipline

2. Storytelling humanizes what fear tries to erase

3. Grief can fuel justice rather than despair

4. Democracy requires moral courage

5. Compassion includes love for oneself

Living Her Legacy: Practices for Our Lives

A. Personal Practice

Ask daily: How can I practice love toward myself today?

B. Relational Practice

Listen for the story beneath someone’s fear.

C. Community Practice

Create spaces where grief, rage, and hope can coexist—safely and honestly.

Questions for Reflection or Dialogue

Who feels like a “stranger” to me—and why?

How does love challenge my comfort?

What grief am I carrying that needs voice?

How might compassion reshape civic life?

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Raised in England and later making her home in the United States, Winspear grew up in the shadow of World War II—surrounded by stories of loss, resilience, and unspoken trauma. Her early career included work in academia and publishing, but it was through fiction that she found her true calling: giving voice to the emotional and ethical lives shaped by history.

“Healing is possible, even when the wounds are deep.”

Her protagonist, Maisie Dobbs—a psychologist and investigator—reflects Winspear’s own fascination with how people endure, make meaning, and repair their lives after devastation.

Jacqueline Winspear matters because she uses story as a vehicle for compassion, ethical inquiry, and healing across generations. Through her acclaimed Maisie Dobbs series and other works, she invites readers to sit with grief, moral complexity, and the long aftermath of war—without sensationalism, judgment, or despair. Winspear reminds us that compassion is often practiced in listening, remembering, and choosing decency in small but consequential ways.

What She Did

Created the Maisie Dobbs series, spanning World War I through World War II

Centered trauma, grief, and recovery in popular historical fiction

Brought psychological insight and ethical reflection into the mystery genre

Explored themes of pacifism, class, conscience, and moral responsibility

Helped normalize conversations about war’s emotional toll

Key insight:
Winspear shows that compassion does not erase pain—it accompanies it with care.

Costs, Challenges, and Tensions

Writing about trauma without exploiting it

Resisting commercial pressure to sensationalize violence

Holding space for ambiguity in a polarized world

Letting silence and restraint do narrative work

Why this matters:
Compassionate storytelling requires patience—and trust in the reader’s humanity.

Lessons We Can Carry Forward

1. Listening is an ethical act

2. Healing unfolds over time

3. Stories can repair what history breaks

4. Compassion thrives in attention to detail

5. Ordinary lives deserve dignity

Living Her Legacy: Practices for Our Lives

A. Personal Practice

Practice listening without interrupting or fixing—especially to stories of pain.

B. Relational Practice

Ask, “What has this person lived through?” before judging.

C. Community Practice

Support arts, libraries, and storytelling spaces that preserve memory and foster empathy.

Questions for Reflection or Dialogue

Whose stories are missing from our shared history?

How does unresolved grief shape behavior?

What role can art play in healing collective trauma?

How do we honor suffering without becoming consumed by it?

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Born in the Yazidi village of Kocho in northern Iraq, Nadia Murad’s life changed when ISIS militants attacked her community. Many of her family members were killed. She was taken captive and endured months of abuse before escaping.

Rather than retreating into anonymity, she chose public testimony—speaking before the United Nations and global forums. Her courage re-centered conversations around sexual violence as a weapon of war.

Nadia Murad matters because she transformed unimaginable suffering into a global call for justice. A survivor of ISIS captivity and sexual slavery during the 2014 genocide against the Yazidi people, Murad refused to allow her story—or the suffering of her community—to disappear into silence.

Her compassion is fierce and clear: she speaks not only for herself but for those still missing, still displaced, still silenced. She demonstrates that compassion does not require forgetting harm—it requires insisting that harm be named and addressed.

“We must tell the world what happened. Not for revenge, but for justice.”

What She Did

Testified before the UN Security Council

Became a leading advocate against conflict-related sexual violence

Co-founded Nadia’s Initiative, supporting survivors and rebuilding Yazidi communities

Won the Nobel Peace Prize (2018)

Advanced legal recognition of genocide and accountability for perpetrators

Key insight:
Murad insists that justice is not abstract—it is about restoring dignity to survivors and rebuilding communities.

Costs, Challenges, and Tensions

Reliving trauma through public testimony

Carrying symbolic weight as a representative of her people

Navigating global politics around accountability

Balancing personal healing with public advocacy

Why this matters:
Compassion born from survival often demands extraordinary resilience.

Lessons We Can Carry Forward

1. Justice is a form of compassion

2. Survivors deserve voice and leadership

3. Naming harm prevents erasure

4. Community rebuilding is part of healing

5. Courage can grow from devastation

Living Her Legacy: Practices for Our Lives

A. Personal Practice

Listen carefully to survivor narratives without skepticism or interruption.

B. Relational Practice

Challenge language that minimizes or dismisses violence.

C. Community Practice

Support organizations working to end sexual violence and assist displaced communities.

Questions for Reflection or Dialogue

How do we move from sympathy to accountability?

What responsibilities follow testimony?

How can justice and compassion coexist?

What does community rebuilding require?

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Born in Mexico City and raised in Veracruz, Natalia grew up immersed in music, movement, and Mexican folk traditions. Her mother, a music educator, shaped her understanding of art as a lived, embodied practice—not performance alone.

After early success in pop music, Lafourcade experienced artistic burnout and personal loss. Rather than retreat, she turned inward—and backward—toward traditional Mexican song forms. This pivot transformed her work into something quieter, deeper, and more grounded, marking a lifelong commitment to cultural memory and emotional truth.

“Music is a way of healing, of remembering who we are.”

Natalia Lafourcade matters because she uses music as an act of care—for memory, for identity, and for the fragile inner lives of people navigating a wounded world. Her work embodies compassion through gentleness rather than spectacle, through listening rather than proclamation. In an era of noise, her voice returns us to roots, ancestry, land, and love—and reminds us that cultural preservation is itself a compassionate act.

What She Did

Revitalized Mexican folk and regional music traditions

Created albums honoring Latin American songbooks (Musas, Un Canto por México)

Used her platform to support earthquake relief and cultural preservation

Elevated elders, traditional musicians, and marginalized voices

Demonstrated artistic humility by stepping aside to let traditions speak

Key insight:
Lafourcade treats music not as ownership—but as stewardship.

Costs, Challenges, and Tensions

Resisting commercial pressure toward spectacle

Choosing slowness in a fast industry

Carrying cultural responsibility with humility

Navigating vulnerability in public life

Why this matters:
Compassionate art often requires restraint—and courage to remain gentle.

Lessons We Can Carry Forward

1. Gentleness is a strength

2. Cultural memory heals

3. Listening is creative

4. Art can repair fractures

5. Beauty belongs to community

Living Her Legacy: Practices for Our Lives

A. Personal Practice

Listen to music from your ancestors or homeland—without multitasking.

B. Relational Practice

Ask elders about songs, stories, and traditions that shaped them.

C. Community Practice

Support local artists and cultural preservation projects rooted in place.

Questions for Reflection or Dialogue

What music connects me to my roots?

How does culture carry compassion?

What traditions am I responsible for passing on?

Where does listening invite healing?

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Zlata was just eleven years old when war engulfed Bosnia. The siege of Sarajevo cut off electricity, water, schooling, and safety. In the midst of shelling and uncertainty, she turned to writing—naming her diary “Mimmy,” after Anne Frank’s diary. Writing became survival. It preserved her inner life when outer structures collapsed.

Eventually evacuated to safety, she carried her story forward—not as spectacle, but as responsibility.

“I am just an ordinary girl.”

Zlata Filipović matters because she gave the world a child’s-eye view of war—and refused to let that perspective be dismissed as small. During the siege of Sarajevo, she began writing a diary. That diary, later published as Zlata’s Diary, became an international testament to how conflict fractures ordinary life.

Her compassion lies in humanizing war without glorifying it. She wrote about fear, hunger, friendships, longing, and lost normalcy—reminding readers that war is not strategy or ideology. It is childhood interrupted.

What She Did

Published Zlata’s Diary, documenting life during the Bosnian War

Became a global advocate for children affected by conflict

Edited Stolen Voices, amplifying diaries of young people in war zones

Helped shift public awareness toward the lived experience of civilians

Continued work in human rights and international affairs

Key insight:
Zlata did not write to be famous. She wrote to be heard—and to ensure others were heard too.

Costs, Challenges, and Tensions

Growing up under global scrutiny

Reliving trauma through publication

Carrying the symbolic weight of representing war-affected children

Balancing personal healing with public expectation

Why this matters:
Child witnesses often become accidental moral messengers.

Lessons We Can Carry Forward

1. Writing is a form of survival

2. Youth voices are not secondary—they are essential

3. Ordinary life deserves protection

4. Memory can resist erasure

5. Bearing witness is an act of compassion

Living Her Legacy: Practices for Our Lives

A. Personal Practice

Keep a journal. Record moments that matter, especially during difficulty.

B. Relational Practice

Listen seriously when young people speak about injustice.

C. Community Practice

Support education and storytelling programs for children affected by conflict.

Questions for Reflection or Dialogue

How do wars look different through a child’s eyes?

What stories from my own childhood shaped my values?

How do we protect young voices in crisis?

What responsibilities come with witnessing?

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Born in Los Angeles to Nigerian and Mauritian parents, Zuriel showed early curiosity about global affairs. At age 9, she began producing documentaries focused on Africa’s development and youth opportunity. Instead of waiting to “grow up,” she stepped into rooms often closed to young people — interviewing presidents and global leaders. What distinguishes her work is not simply access, but her tone: thoughtful, prepared, respectful, persistent.

Zuriel Oduwole matters because she demonstrates that age is not a limitation to impact. Beginning as a child filmmaker interviewing African heads of state, she transformed curiosity into advocacy. Her work centers girls’ education as a foundation for peace, prosperity, and democratic stability.

Her compassion is expressed through dialogue rather than confrontation, and through visibility rather than accusation. She invites leaders — presidents, policymakers, elders — into conversation about opportunity for girls, believing that progress grows through respectful engagement.

“When you educate a girl, you uplift a nation.”

What She Did

Conducted interviews with numerous African presidents and global leaders

Produced documentaries spotlighting African development and youth potential

Advocated for girls’ education reforms and commitments

Participated in diplomatic conversations at the UN and international forums

Encouraged dialogue between governments and youth communities

Key insight:
Zuriel does not wait for permission to care. She prepares, shows up, and asks thoughtful questions.

Costs, Challenges, and Tensions

Navigating adult power structures as a young woman

Representing African youth on global platforms

Balancing media attention with substance

Carrying expectations placed on young leaders

Why this matters:
Youth compassion is often underestimated — until it becomes undeniable.

Lessons We Can Carry Forward

1. Preparation strengthens courage

2. Dialogue can shift policy

3. Youth voices belong at decision-making tables

4. Education is foundational to peace

5. Representation matters

Living Her Legacy: Practices for Our Lives

A. Personal Practice

Encourage and mentor young leaders in your community.

B. Relational Practice

Invite youth into real conversations — not symbolic roles.

C. Community Practice

Support policies and initiatives that prioritize girls’ education and equitable access.

Questions for Reflection or Dialogue

Where are youth voices missing?

What barriers still limit girls’ access to education?

How can diplomacy begin with listening?

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Born on the Piapot First Nation in Saskatchewan and later adopted and raised in Massachusetts, Buffy grew up between Indigenous and non-Indigenous worlds. As a young woman in the 1960s folk revival, she quickly gained recognition—but also scrutiny—because she insisted on singing about colonialism, Vietnam, and systemic injustice.

Experiencing both erasure and platform gave her a sharp awareness of narrative power. Rather than allowing others to define Indigenous identity, she chose to tell her own story—and to amplify others.

Buffy Sainte-Marie matters because she expanded the moral imagination of popular music. Long before “Indigenous rights” entered mainstream discourse, she was singing about land theft, broken treaties, war, and the cost of violence. She did not soften the truth to make it comfortable. Instead, she paired fierce clarity with extraordinary musical range—folk, rock, electronic experimentation—proving that compassion is not sentimentality. It is courage in melody. Her voice has carried generations through protest, healing, and cultural renewal. She reminds us that art can confront injustice without abandoning tenderness.

“We are not myths of the past—we are living peoples.”

What She Did

Wrote and performed “Universal Soldier,” an anti-war anthem adopted globally

Brought Indigenous realities into mainstream media

Used television platforms like Sesame Street to normalize Indigenous presence

Advocated for Indigenous education and community self-determination

Key insight:
She did not wait for institutions to change—she inserted truth directly into them.

Costs, Challenges, and Tensions

Blacklisting from U.S. radio during the Vietnam War era

Political backlash

Ongoing public scrutiny

Complex conversations about identity and representation in later years

These tensions invite deeper dialogue: compassion does not make one immune from controversy. In fact, it often attracts it.

Why this matters:
Compassion requires resilience when truth disrupts comfort.

Lessons We Can Carry Forward

1. Art can be an instrument of justice.

2. Naming harm is part of healing.

3. Cultural survival is an act of love.

4. Courage and creativity can coexist.

5. You can challenge systems while remaining rooted in community.

Living Her Legacy: Practices for Our Lives

A. Personal Practice

Choose one injustice you care about and learn its history deeply before speaking about it.

B. Relational Practice

Support Indigenous or marginalized artists in your community—attend, share, uplift.

C. Community Practice

Host a listening circle where music becomes the starting point for dialogue about history and healing.

Questions for Reflection or Dialogue

When have I stayed silent to remain comfortable?

What stories need to be reclaimed where I live?

How can creativity strengthen courage?

Where does truth-telling feel risky—and necessary?

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Jacinda Ardern became globally recognized for modeling a form of leadership rooted in empathy, steadiness, and moral clarity. Her response to the 2019 Christchurch mosque attacks demonstrated a rare fusion of grief, solidarity, and decisive action.

She did not simply offer condolences — she wore a headscarf in solidarity with Muslim communities, met families face-to-face, and spoke the names of the victims. Her words, “They are us,” reframed the tragedy as a shared human wound rather than a division.

Her leadership during the COVID-19 pandemic was similarly marked by calm transparency, frequent direct communication with citizens, and a focus on collective responsibility.

Defining Moment of Compassion

Christchurch Mosque Attacks (March 15, 2019)

Immediate gun law reform passed within weeks

Refused to publicly name the perpetrator

Centered the dignity and belonging of the Muslim community

Emphasized unity over fear

This moment reshaped global expectations of what compassionate political leadership can look like.

Core Compassion Practices She Embodied

Empathy without weakness

Swift policy action rooted in values

Transparent communication

Inclusive language (“We are one”)

Moral courage in moments of crisis

“One of the criticisms I’ve faced over the years is that I’m not aggressive enough or assertive enough — or maybe somehow, because I’m empathetic, that means I’m weak. I totally rebel against that. I refuse to believe that you cannot be both compassionate and strong.”

What We Can Learn

Compassion is not softness — it is strength with conscience.

From Ardern we learn:

Leadership requires emotional presence

Words shape public consciousness

Belonging can be a political value

Policy and empathy must move together

Bringing Her Work into Our Lives

You don’t have to be Prime Minister to practice this model.

Use inclusive language in community conflict

Center those most affected when harm occurs

Communicate transparently in leadership roles

Act swiftly when values are threatened

Practice empathy in decision-making

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adrienne maree brown was born in 1978 in El Paso, Texas, and grew up in a military family that moved frequently. She later settled in Detroit, Michigan, a city that deeply shaped her political imagination and community-based organizing work.

She studied political science and was influenced early on by Black feminist thought, abolitionist organizing, and science fiction — especially the work of Octavia Butler. Her career evolved through grassroots organizing, facilitation training, and leadership development within social justice movements, including work with the Ruckus Society and various movement-building networks.

Over time, she became known not just as an organizer but as a theorist of movement — someone who translates lived organizing experience into accessible frameworks that communities can apply.

Her book Emergent Strategy (2017) brought systems thinking, complexity science, and ecological metaphors into activist spaces. Pleasure Activism (2019) challenged burnout-driven organizing and invited movements to root themselves in joy, embodiment, and wholeness.

Today, she is widely regarded as one of the leading voices in transformative justice, relational organizing, and visionary political imagination.

adrienne maree brown has redefined what compassionate activism can look like in the 21st century. Rather than centering resistance alone, she focuses on transformation — asking how we build the world we long for while dismantling harm.

She frames social change as a living system — something that grows organically through relationships, adaptation, trust, and care. Her work insists that movements must be sustainable, joyful, and rooted in love if they are to endure.

Defining Contributions

Author of Emergent Strategy: Shaping Change, Changing Worlds

Author of Pleasure Activism: The Politics of Feeling Good

Co-editor of Octavia’s Brood

Longtime facilitator in Black feminist and abolitionist spaces

Advocate for transformative justice practices that move beyond punishment toward healing

Lessons for the Compassionate Global Women Project

Compassion must be structural, not only personal

Sustainability is a moral commitment

Joy is not a distraction from justice — it is fuel

Change grows from relationships, not domination

The future must be imagined before it can be built

She embodies Compassion as Emergent Practice — living change now rather than waiting for permission.

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Stacey Abrams emerged as a national figure after her 2018 run for Governor of Georgia. Following a narrowly contested race marked by widespread concerns about voter suppression, she chose not to retreat—but to build.

Rather than framing her loss as personal defeat, she reframed it as a structural issue: millions of eligible citizens were not fully participating in democracy due to barriers, confusion, purges of voter rolls, and lack of access.

Her compassionate lens asked:
Who is not being heard? Who is being discouraged? Who is being excluded?

Compassion in Action

Abrams’ compassion is not sentimental—it is structural.

She co-founded organizations designed to increase voter registration, protect ballot access, and educate citizens about their rights. Through Fair Fight Action, she challenged systemic inequities in elections and mobilized grassroots networks.

Her work contributed significantly to increased voter participation in Georgia in 2020 and 2021, shifting national political landscapes.

Compassion, in her model, means:

Expanding access

Removing barriers

Building systems that allow every voice to count

Refusing to give up on participation

She often emphasizes that democracy is not self-sustaining—it requires care.

Voice & Thought Leadership

Abrams is also an author. In Our Time Is Now, she writes:

“Democracy only works when we work for it.”

Her writing blends policy with moral clarity. She speaks about hope not as naïveté, but as discipline. She insists that engagement is an act of belief in one another. She frames civic participation as an expression of dignity.

Lessons from Stacey Abrams

1. Compassion Can Be Structural
It is not only about kindness—it can mean redesigning systems to ensure fairness.

2. Losing Is Not the End
Setbacks can become catalysts for larger transformation.

3. Participation Is a Moral Act
Helping people register to vote, understand policy, and engage in civic life is an act of respect.

4. Hope Is a Strategy
Hope must be organized.

Practices We Can Adopt

For the Compassionate Global Women project, here are ways participants might embody aspects of her work:

Host a community conversation about civic engagement

Educate others on voting procedures in your region

Identify barriers in your local system and work to reduce them

Encourage youth participation in governance

Treat disagreement not as enmity, but as democratic process

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When Sanna Marin became Prime Minister in December 2019, Finland was already known for strong social systems. Within months, she faced the COVID-19 pandemic, geopolitical instability in Europe, and later, Finland’s historic decision to join NATO following Russia’s invasion of Ukraine.

She led during global uncertainty—balancing public health, social trust, security, and democratic values.

Her leadership reflected a Nordic model grounded in:

Collective responsibility

Transparency

Institutional trust

Social safety nets

Compassion in Action

Marin’s approach to compassion was expressed through governance structures.

Pandemic Response:
Finland implemented early public health measures paired with economic protections. Her administration emphasized protecting vulnerable populations while sustaining public trust through clear communication.

Gender Equity:
Her cabinet in 2019 included several women party leaders—a powerful symbol of generational and gender transformation in governance.

Climate Commitment:
Finland advanced ambitious carbon neutrality goals under her leadership, framing environmental stewardship as a responsibility to future generations.

Compassion, in Marin’s model, meant:

Protecting social cohesion

Ensuring access to healthcare and education

Defending democratic institutions

Acting with future-oriented responsibility

Voice & Leadership Style

Marin has spoken often about dignity in public life:

“Politics is about making choices that shape people’s everyday lives.”

Her communication style was direct, calm, and pragmatic. Even amid intense public scrutiny—including debates over work-life balance and social expectations of women leaders—she remained firm in asserting that leadership need not erase humanity.

Her presence expanded the imagination of who can lead.

Personal Narrative

Marin grew up in a same-sex household—raised by her mother and her mother’s partner at a time when such families were not widely accepted in Finland. She has spoken openly about how that experience shaped her understanding of inclusion and equality.

Lessons from Sanna Marin

1. Compassion Is Institutional
Strong public systems can embody collective care.

2. Representation Expands Possibility
Leadership diversity changes national narratives.

3. Trust Is Earned Through Transparency
Clear communication strengthens democracy.

4. Future Generations Are Stakeholders
Climate and social policy must include those not yet born.

Practices We Can Adopt

For the Compassionate Global Women project:

Advocate for transparent communication in local leadership

Support policies that protect vulnerable populations

Encourage young women to pursue public service

Engage in climate-conscious practices that reflect intergenerational care

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Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie emerged as a powerful literary voice exploring identity, migration, race, gender, memory, and postcolonial history. Raised in Nigeria and educated in both Nigeria and the United States, she writes from the tension—and richness—of multiple worlds.

Her work revisits the Biafran War in Half of a Yellow Sun, explores transnational identity in Americanah, and critiques narrow narratives in her landmark TED Talk.

Her central concern:
Who gets to tell the story? And whose humanity is flattened when only one story is told?

Compassion in Action

Adichie’s compassion is narrative compassion. She invites readers into lives they may never otherwise encounter. She does not sentimentalize suffering; instead, she restores complexity.

In her TED Talk, she says:

“The single story creates stereotypes, and the problem with stereotypes is not that they are untrue, but that they are incomplete.”

Through literature and public speech, she practices compassion by:

Expanding imagination

Challenging assumptions

Restoring dignity to marginalized voices

Encouraging intellectual humility

Feminism and Moral Clarity

In We Should All Be Feminists, she reframes feminism not as ideology, but as fairness:

“We teach girls shame… and we do not teach boys the same.”

Her feminism is grounded in cultural nuance. She insists that equality need not erase cultural identity. Instead, she advocates for reimagining norms that limit human flourishing.

Lessons from Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

1. Expand the Story
Seek complexity before judgment.

2. Language Shapes Reality
Words can either narrow or widen our moral imagination.

3. Representation Matters
Seeing oneself reflected in literature affirms dignity.

4. Compassion Requires Curiosity
Ask: What don’t I yet understand?

Practices We Can Adopt

Host a “Many Stories” discussion circle—invite participants to share stories of identity

Read literature from outside your own cultural background

Examine where you may be holding a “single story” about a group

Encourage youth to tell their own narratives through writing or media

Reflection Questions

1. What assumptions do I hold that may be incomplete?

2. How do the stories I consume shape my worldview?

3. Who in my community is not being heard fully?

4. How can storytelling become an act of compassion?

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Ilhan Omar’s early life was shaped by civil war in Somalia. Her family fled the conflict, spending years in a refugee camp in Kenya before being resettled in the United States.

She grew up in Minnesota—eventually representing the same community in Congress. Her story reframes public narratives about refugees:
From displacement to leadership.
From survival to civic stewardship.

Her life itself challenges “single stories” about migration, identity, and belonging.

Compassion in Action

Omar’s compassion emerges from lived experience.

Immigrant Advocacy:
She has consistently advocated for refugee rights and humane immigration policy, drawing from her own journey.

Human Rights Focus:
Her foreign policy positions often emphasize civilian protection, accountability, and international human rights.

Community-Based Leadership:
Before Congress, she served in the Minnesota House of Representatives, building strong ties with local communities and grassroots organizations.

Courage and Public Scrutiny

Omar’s tenure has not been without controversy or intense public scrutiny. As a visible Muslim woman in American politics—often wearing a hijab—she has faced disproportionate criticism and hostility.

Her response has frequently emphasized democratic process and constitutional rights. She continues to speak about representation as essential to democracy:

“We are Americans. And we belong.”

Lessons from Ilhan Omar

1. Lived Experience Matters in Policy
Personal history can inform public service.

2. Representation Expands Democracy
Visibility can transform possibility for others.

3. Compassion Requires Courage
Speaking up for unpopular or marginalized communities demands resilience.

4. Belonging Is Foundational
Democracy depends on inclusion.

Practices We Can Adopt

Host interfaith or intercultural dialogues in your community

Support refugee or immigrant resettlement initiatives

Learn the stories of displaced persons in your region

Encourage youth from marginalized communities to explore civic engagement

Reflection Questions

1. How do my assumptions about “belonging” shape my worldview?

2. Who in my community feels unseen or unheard?

3. How can I advocate for policies grounded in dignity?

4. What does courage look like in public life?

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When Mary Robinson was elected President of Ireland in 1990, she transformed what had been largely a ceremonial office into a platform for inclusion and global engagement.

She described herself as representing “the women of Ireland”—a symbolic shift in national identity. During her presidency, she opened the official residence to marginalized groups, diaspora communities, and activists.

Later, as UN High Commissioner for Human Rights, she worked in some of the most complex global crises of the late 20th century, advocating for universal human dignity amid political resistance.

Compassion in Action

Robinson’s compassion is principled and systemic.

Human Rights Advocacy:
She reframed human rights not as abstract legalism but as lived reality—focusing on those most vulnerable to injustice.

Climate Justice Leadership:
Later in life, she became a leading voice linking climate change with human rights. She emphasized that climate impacts fall disproportionately on the poorest communities, especially women.

Her message:
Climate action is not only environmental—it is moral.

Voice and Moral Clarity

Mary Robinson is known for calm authority and ethical precision. She often speaks of the need for:

“A just transition” — ensuring that climate and economic reforms protect workers and vulnerable communities.

She calls for leadership rooted in empathy, responsibility, and long-term vision.

Lessons from Mary Robinson

1. Leadership Can Redefine Institutions
Offices become transformative when infused with purpose.

2. Justice Is Interconnected
Human rights, climate, gender equity, and democracy are not separate silos.

3. Moral Courage Requires Calm Persistence
Compassion does not shout—it steadies.

4. The Global and Local Are Linked
Climate justice begins in communities but requires global cooperation.

Practices We Can Adopt

For the Compassionate Global Women project:

Host a dialogue on climate justice and human dignity

Explore how local environmental action connects to global equity

Advocate for policies that protect vulnerable communities

Cultivate calm, values-based leadership in your own circles

Reflection Questions

1. Where do I see climate impacts intersecting with human vulnerability?

2. How can institutions I belong to become more inclusive?

3. What does moral courage look like in my context?

4. How do justice and compassion intertwine in my work?

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Xiye Bastida’s activism was shaped by lived experience. Her hometown in Mexico was severely impacted by flooding linked to climate change. Shortly thereafter, her family relocated to New York City. Rather than separating environmental science from cultural identity, Bastida integrates Indigenous worldview into climate advocacy. She emphasizes that environmental protection is not only scientific—it is relational.

Her perspective asks:

How do we restore balance between humans and Earth?

Compassion in Action

Bastida’s compassion is intergenerational and Earth-centered.

Youth Leadership:
She became a leading organizer of climate strikes in New York City, mobilizing thousands of young people.

Indigenous Wisdom:
She speaks about the importance of Indigenous communities as protectors of biodiversity and ecological balance.

Policy Engagement:
She has addressed global forums, including the United Nations, calling for bold climate action grounded in justice.

Voice and Presence

Bastida speaks with clarity and calm urgency. She often reminds audiences that climate justice is deeply connected to racial, economic, and gender justice.

Her message reflects:

We are not separate from nature. We are nature.

She frames activism as both protest and ceremony—an act of love for the Earth.

Lessons from Xiye Bastida

1. Youth Are Present Leaders, Not Future Ones
Young people deserve decision-making power now.

2. Indigenous Knowledge Is Essential
Ancient wisdom and modern science must collaborate.

3. Climate Justice Is Human Justice
Environmental policy must center equity.

4. Hope Is Collective Action
Community transforms anxiety into movement.

Practices We Can Adopt

For the Compassionate Global Women project:

Invite youth to co-design environmental initiatives

Learn about Indigenous ecological teachings in your region

Reduce local environmental impact with measurable goals

Hold intergenerational climate dialogues

Reflection Questions

1. How does my lifestyle impact future generations?

2. What ancestral or cultural wisdom informs my relationship with the Earth?

3. Are youth voices meaningfully included in decision-making?

4. How can activism become an act of compassion rather than anger?

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Claire Babineaux-Fontenot is a visionary leader and tireless advocate dedicated to combating hunger and strengthening communities across the United States. Her career reflects a deep and enduring commitment to social justice, rooted in the belief that access to food is a fundamental human right and that compassionate leadership must address both immediate needs and the systemic causes of poverty and food insecurity.

Since 2018, Babineaux-Fontenot has served as the Chief Executive Officer of Feeding America, the nation’s largest hunger-relief organization and one of the largest charities in the United States. Feeding America operates a nationwide network of food banks, statewide food bank associations, food pantries, and meal programs that collectively serve tens of millions of individuals and families each year.

Under Claire’s leadership, Feeding America has expanded its reach and strengthened its network at a critical moment in history. During the global COVID-19 pandemic, when hunger rates rose dramatically, she helped guide the organization through unprecedented challenges. Her leadership enabled the network to mobilize quickly, expand food distribution, strengthen logistical capacity, and provide millions of additional meals to families experiencing hardship.

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et Babineaux-Fontenot’s vision extends far beyond emergency food assistance. She has championed a comprehensive strategy that addresses the root causes of hunger, recognizing that food insecurity is often intertwined with economic inequality, systemic barriers, and public policy challenges. Her approach emphasizes collaboration—working alongside corporations, community organizations, farmers, and government agencies to create sustainable and equitable food systems.

Through strategic partnerships, increased fundraising, and operational innovation, Feeding America has significantly improved access to fresh, nutritious, and culturally relevant food for communities across the country. Claire’s leadership reflects a compassionate understanding that dignity matters: people deserve not only enough food, but food that nourishes their health, culture, and well-being.

Babineaux-Fontenot’s work reminds us that compassion is not only an individual virtue but also a collective responsibility. By strengthening networks of care and cooperation, she demonstrates how compassionate leadership can mobilize entire communities to address injustice and restore dignity to those who are most vulnerable.

Lessons in Compassionate Leadership

Claire Babineaux-Fontenot’s work offers several powerful lessons:

Compassion must address systems.
Meeting immediate needs is essential, but lasting compassion seeks to transform the conditions that create suffering.

Collaboration multiplies impact.
Ending hunger requires partnerships across sectors—community groups, businesses, governments, and citizens working together.

Dignity matters.
Providing food is not simply about calories; it is about respect, cultural understanding, and human dignity.

Leadership is service.
True leadership listens to communities and works alongside them rather than imposing solutions from above.

Reflection Questions

How can communities ensure that access to food is treated as a human right?

What partnerships are necessary to eliminate hunger locally and globally?

How can compassion shape policies that address poverty and inequality?

What role can individuals play in strengthening food justice movements?