Three Lessons From 2020 That We All Can Bring To 2021

A global pandemic. Autocratic threats to democracy. A coast-to-coast demand to end racism coupled with nationwide police riots. A world on fire.

Many others have made this point before me, but it’s worth repeating: whether you are in your 20s or your 80s, 2020 has been one of the most challenging years of our lives. By demonstrating just how fragile the social compact is between civic responsibility and individual freedom, 2020 has immersed us in a long, unending existential crisis.

As a brown man with an Arabic name who has been racially profiled by the TSA, police, and random strangers more times than I can count, I am familiar with existential crises. For me, stasis is illusive, and order and chaos are two sides of the same coin.

But in my professional life as the president and CEO of a nonprofit human service organization, living in a state of existential angst is not an option. The work must get done.

Here are three lessons from 2020 that I’ll be using in 2021 to keep the angst at bay.

Existential angst can—and must—be harnessed for change.

The COVID-19 pandemic has laid bare racial inequities in health care, government services, education, and business. This is a crisis that we cannot afford to waste. It’s not enough to rail against the injustice, or despair at the prospect for real progress. If we learn nothing else from 2020, let it be that we need to lean into the suffering and open ourselves to new learning and possibilities.

A return to normal should not be our goal in 2021. Our aim should be making sure we never go back to business as usual. There is a long tradition in this country—fueled by racist ‘welfare queen’ tropes—of making it as difficult as possible for people to receive benefits to which they are entitled. One example is that up until this past May, families that purchase groceries with money from the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) could not use their debit cards online. In response to overwhelming pandemic-related hunger, the US Department of Agriculture issued a waiver permitting families to use their SNAP debit cards for online food purchases at outlets like Amazon and Wal-Mart that offer food staples at lower prices than what can be found in neighborhood grocery stores.

The idea of using SNAP debit cards for online grocery shopping isn’t a new one. What’s new was the opportunity to implement it. Is it morally repugnant that it took a global pandemic to bring online grocery shopping to SNAP EBT debit card holders? Yes. Is there a better cure for existential angst than choosing to be prepared to take advantage of opportunity? No.

Exercise your power.

This fall, a frequent topic of conversation among friends and colleagues were the extraordinary efforts underway to suppress the votes of Black Indigenous People of Color (BIPOC). When I learned about a nationwide effort among business and nonprofit leaders to make November 3, Election Day, a paid holiday, I brought the idea to my company, where everyone quickly got behind it. In October, we let our staff know that they would have the day off, no questions asked. We did this to ensure that our team had the time and flexibility to vote and to support voter turnout efforts. We publicized our decision to make Election Day a paid holiday on our social media channels. We shared information on how to register to vote, find your polling location, and prepare a mail-in ballot.

While none of us as individuals has the power to stop voter suppression, that does not mean we are powerless to fight it. Each of us has some degree of power to make things better, and we should never pass on the opportunity to exercise it.

Bear witness.

Rates of COVID-19 infections and fatalities are disproportionately high in BIPOC communities. Over half of people in jail have not been convicted of a crime; they are there because they do not have the money to post bail. Fewer than five percent of youth in foster care will earn a bachelor’s degree, and up to 40 percent will eventually experience homelessness.

Transformational change in our systems of health care, criminal justice, and human services is possible. But we must start by bearing witness to the truth that opportunity is unevenly distributed, many children and adults experience life-altering hardship through no fault of their own, and our local, state, and federal governments wield tremendous power to make things better—or worse.

This past year has brought heartbreak and loss. But in our collective responses to COVID-19, police violence, and illiberalism, we have also witnessed determination, grit, poise, tenderness, and humility.

That’s what I’m bringing to 2021.

Shaheer Mustafa is president and CEO of HopeWell, Inc., one of New England’s leading providers of intensive foster care and residential support services for adults with disabilities.