Six years ago, I began my role as the Director of California at SEARAC. We were still learning about COVID-19, finding our communities at risk of rising hate and violence, and adjusting to the new normal of a pandemic. Prior to this, I spent most of my career working in nonprofits and regularly worked 60 hours a week, took late night calls, and sacrificed my weekends. I believed that burnout and emotional taxation was just part of the commitment to social justice.
SEARAC taught me that this was directly opposed to values of equity, justice, and community care. Dominant culture conditions us to believe that urgency, hierarchies, overworking, productiveness, and sacrifice are positive things to aspire to–ideologies that have long profited off communities of color and marginalized identities. I realized that growing up, immigrant and refugee communities were reinforcing these harmful notions in order to assimilate and survive. Raised by a single parent, I only saw my dad on weekends while he was gone most days as a long-haul truck driver trying to make ends meet. My family, neighbors, teachers, and surrounding communities consistently demonstrated that “laziness” was bad. Despite the oppression of our ancestors, we learned that productivity and efficiency were part of the “American Dream.”
During my early tenure at SEARAC, I was the only staff doing our state-level advocacy. I hit the ground running as rapid response and community needs were heightened during this unprecedented time. I worked long hours, adapted to changing demands, did not request time off, and continued my fast-paced approach in this line of work. There was so much to do. Everything felt like a priority.
At some point, my body couldn’t keep up. Work was no longer enough to numb decades of constant stress. In public one day, I suddenly fell to the ground and couldn’t breathe; I thought I was dying. Later I learned that it was a panic attack.
While I was on an intensive mental health journey, SEARAC began to implement the four-day work week. Like many of my colleagues, I was hesitant and uncomfortable. There were many questions and doubts. How will we do the work? How will we be accountable to the community?
Turns out taking Fridays off was an integral part of my healing, but it took persistence and practice. I didn’t know what to do with myself in the beginning. Then as the weeks and months went by, I started to build Friday rituals–going to morning yoga, journaling at the park, visiting my grandma, painting outside, and cooking nourishing meals. I started to live slowly and savored time with loved ones. With time, I processed how different experiences have impacted and shaped me. I learned how to listen to my body and find inner peace. I did things for joy without a need to accomplish anything. After some time, I came back to work on Mondays feeling more ready and capable. There was more space to think clearly and make balanced decisions. As a team, I noticed we were better at showing up and focusing on our strengths, listening to others and providing support, and gaining clearer victories and wins. We seemed less exhausted, less suffocated, and more energized, more hopeful.
At the end of last year, I took a three-month sabbatical. Leading up to it, I felt the lingering feelings of doubt and hesitance like early discussions about the four-day work week. But deep inside, I knew I needed a break. 2025 was a trying year. I had evacuated a wildfire, cared for an injured and incapacitated partner, traveled heavily for work, moved homes, and dealt with several family and financial emergencies. My cup was empty.
During my sabbatical, I learned to let go. I paused on reading the news. I embraced rest even when others questioned me in social settings. I woke up most mornings without a plan, waiting to see where the day would take me. I freed myself from the idea of a “productive sabbatical.” I spent a lot of time in nature by myself. I planned to hike often, but to my own surprise, I would just sit by the lake for hours. Sometimes I read, sometimes I painted, sometimes I journaled, sometimes I chatted with strangers, but most times I was just present and taking in all the senses around me.
In the months since my sabbatical, a lot has happened in the world. It is easy to be consumed by the urgency and demands that dominant culture instills in us. Fear and violence are ravaging our communities; it is everywhere around us. But we’ve been here before and so have the generations before us. We continue to fight for belonging, humanity, equity and justice. We continue to act radically on how we sustain this work and live up to our values.
It isn’t easy and old habits die hard. Our bodies remember. But there is beauty to active resistance.
Mandy Diêc is SEARAC’s California Deputy Director
To learn more about SEARAC’s wellness policies, read our blog post from 2022, Creating a Culture of Community Care.
For more blogs in this year’s WorkPlace Wellness Anniversary series, see:
- Quyen Dinh: Five Years of Revolutionary Community Care
- Phoebe Tran: A Season of Yes
- Katrina Dizon Mariategue: Care in Practice: How 10 Years of Sustainable Workplace Policies Makes All the Difference