Can hope really be a strategy?

With the right approach, yes. Why we can’t afford to be apathetic or lose hope for the future of social change in our communities.

 

I’ve been tired lately.

I’m not sure if you’ve heard or felt the same, but it seems a collective exhaustion has settled into our bones. The kind that comes from constantly watching the things you care about get torn apart, reassembled, and threatened again. The kind that creeps into your work, your conversations, even your optimism. 

If you’re reading this, I’m guessing you’ve felt it too.

I don’t need to repeat what’s been going on in the world lately or what the latest is with the U.S.-led trade wars and funding cuts. We all know it’s concerning. It’s exhausting and worrisome. I used to believe that if we worked harder, forged the right partnerships, and built the perfect theory of change, we could hold the line. But lately? I’ve had moments where I wasn’t sure. 

The news is relentless. The leadership is uncertain. And for those of us in the social purpose sector, we’re not just watching it happen; we’re living inside of it, every day. 

I’ve seen people I admire burn out and leave the work they’ve worked so hard to build. I’ve watched projects I poured my heart into get shelved for lack of funding. I’ve had moments where I wonder: Is this still working? Are we still making a difference?

And that’s when the voice of apathy starts to whisper. The one that tells you it’s too much. That the weight is too heavy. That maybe stepping back wouldn’t be giving up, but rather an act of survival.

The truth is simple: We can’t afford to let apathy take root. 

Apathy is a poison that spreads silently, making us feel powerless when we are anything but. I don’t want to survive like that. And I don’t think we were meant to. 

As the 2023 Connect Money Impact conference in Kelowna, BC, made clear, hope – the kind rooted in action and solidarity – is not naïve. It’s not fluffy. It’s not toxic positivity. It’s a tool. A strategy. A muscle we build together for resilience, action, and community building for long-term stability.

However, hope requires more than mere optimism. It requires work – diverse partnerships with funders, neighbours, and others traditionally left out of the conversation – and perhaps most importantly, community support.  

Hope, contrary to its reputation, is not comfortable. The work involved to stoke hope and make it viable is hard, requiring persistence and a willingness to push through incredible friction. And it’s meaningful and necessary. 

We often forget that it was people who built these systems and that it’s people who can change them, too. Most of all, it’s happening already in bold ways across the country; here are a few examples.

Hope In Inclusive Action: Participatory health care research

In Canadian healthcare, patients are often treated as data points – not decision-makers. But meaningful systems change starts when those most affected are not just consulted, but actively involved in shaping the very policy and research that impact their own lives.

That’s what Linxi Mytkolli, Director of Patient Engagement at Diabetes Canada, and her team set out to do through a virtual pilot program developed under Diabetes Action Canada’s patient-oriented research strategy. Her team built a first-of-its-kind approach that paid patient advocates to become equal partners in the research process – not just as reviewers, but as co-creators.

“We’re not building a table that has seats and room for [patients],” Mytkolli said, “so why don’t we re-build new ones instead?”

Over nine months, participants were trained in science communication and paired with mentors from research institutions and healthcare organizations. Together, they transformed complex academic research into accessible, community-rooted tools – from data guides to hands-on workshops – built for the people the research was meant to serve.

This wasn’t about simplifying research or information. It was a shift in power: from institution to individual, from theory to lived experience. And in a sector where the average timeline from research to policy is 17 years – often viewed as immovable, or hopeless – this program showed that when trust and co-ownership are prioritized, the system starts to move.

Hope in Decolonial Action: Restoring Leadership Through Language and Land

Too often, the social sector treats systems change as a policy or funding challenge – but the deeper work of transformation starts with how people relate to themselves, their culture, and their communities. That’s the kind of change IndigenEYEZ is focused on: rebuilding leadership from the inside out, grounded in Indigenous knowledge systems and land-based practice. 

Through immersive programs that combine cultural facilitation, land connection, and intergenerational mentorship, IndigenEYEZ supports participants in unlearning colonial mindsets and rebuilding a sense of identity and belonging. These shifts don’t stay personal – they influence how people lead, organize, and engage in systems change. 

Increasingly, diverse organizations – from school districts and social services to community foundations and professional associations – are turning to these approaches to challenge the status quo within their teams and reimagine what inclusive leadership can look like in practice.

However, it’s not easy work. Like hope, it requires vulnerability, humility, and the courage to sit with discomfort – including sitting with our own biases. That might look like pausing a program to reflect on whose voices are missing, or reshaping decision-making tables so lived experience isn’t just included but centred. 

Discomfort shows up when we slow down, unlearn, and let go of control – but that’s often where the real shift begins. It’s what allows us to question the models we’ve inherited, shift language, rebuild trust, and do the deeper work of systems change.

“Because when we shift our language, we shift our stories,” says IndigenEYEZ Program Director Kelly Terbasket. “And when we shift our stories, we reclaim our power to build a hopeful, inclusive, and resilient social economy.”

Hope In Influential Action: Redirecting (and distributing) narrative power

Many agree that funding too often goes toward organizations that define or speak on behalf of communities and their challenges, rather than investing in community members directly.

Can we move capital towards ownership, democratize narrative power, and drive community healing at the same time? The answer is yes. 

Surabhi Jain, former Executive Director at the Workforce Funder Collaborative, created a partnership with The Philanthropist to strengthen workforce development and dedication to recognizing voices not often included in traditional media. Through funding and support from the Workforce Funder Collaborative, The Philanthropist launched a 2023 fellowship for Indigenous and Black writers ages 18-30 to share their perspectives on the future of work – a real example of capital being redirected towards supporting community-led storytelling and media ownership. 

“The reason we did this was because we wanted Black and Indigenous voices to represent what was happening in their communities,” explained Jain. “We wanted their lived experience to come through which oftentimes is represented by White people because journalism is fairly White. So, this was our attempt at bringing voices of people that are closest to the issue to light.”

Other organizations taking a democratizing approach to storytelling include Canada Life, which supports the Transformation Storytelling Fellowship in partnership with Community Foundations Canada. This fellowship supports young changemakers in shaping systems change by equipping them to tell powerful, equity-centred stories from their own lived experiences. The program is designed to amplify underrepresented voices too often missing from mainstream media and foster intergenerational dialogue around social impact leadership and community. 

Kat Cadungog, the 2025 Transformation Storytelling Fellow, hopes to “explore new narratives that challenge the status quo and question the mental models that underpin the ‘business as usual’ mindset.” Through this fellowship, fellows like Cadungog are given full autonomy to explore and publish topics that matter to them, trusted with real influence about how the sector’s story is, and should be, told.

Hope In Community Action: Regenerating Land, and Hope, in the Sahel

Systems change doesn’t have to be complicated. In fact, we often overthink it. What if solving the world’s toughest challenges, like hunger, started with regular people working together, using what they already have? 

Aaron McRann, CEO of Community Foundation of the South Okanagan Similkameen, posed this question after seeing a community-owned technique transforming food security in Niger. 

As part of the Great Green Wall initiative in the African Sahel, five villages came together to restore a nearly five-square-mile block of land using a simple but profound solution: the “half moon” technique – crescent-shaped basins dug by hand to capture and retain scarce desert rainwater during seasons of drought. Over time, the community took it upon themselves and planted 500 trees, spread 20 tonnes of grass seed, and, most importantly, began repairing soil and restoring local ecosystems. Half a million people are now feeding themselves – not because a global system changed, but because communities did.

As McRann put it, “What if regular people, leading regular lives, are empowered to find local solutions rather than counting on some genius tech bro billionaire to fix things for them?”

And the best part is: It’s astoundingly simple.

Don’t Let Apathy Rob You of Hope 

I’m sure other changemakers beyond Mytkolli, Terbasket, Jain, Cadungog, and McRann can help you shift apathy into motivation. It’s people and stories like these that encourage us all to remember that today isn’t the day to let apathy get in our way, or worse, become a collective crisis. 

It’s time to reject the narrative that we are a fragile sector always teetering on the edge. We are builders, protectors, and innovators of stability. And if we know that, then so should everyone we’re building for and with.

I love Canada’s collective rallying cry, encouraging us all to have our elbows up. While we’re preparing and bracing against challenges, it’s equally important not to lose sight of the future and the vision for social change. 

So like Pete Bombaci, CEO of GenWell, said at Future of Good’s latest Changemaker Wellbeing Summit: “Elbows up, but heads up, too.”

That way, you can see who else is fighting alongside you.