Reflections from Our First Equity Institute: Growing in the Greenhouse

We held our first Equity Institute last January, and I’m still sitting with all that it surfaced for me. There were moments of pride and moments of deep discomfort. Moments of love, awareness, guilt, and unintentional harm. I left the space wondering: What did we get right? What did we miss? And where do we need to grow?

Those questions aren’t easy, especially when you care deeply, when this work isn’t just professional, but personal. As a person of color, I carry this work in my bones. I believe in it. I need it. So recognizing that we may have missed the mark left me feeling ashamed. Ashamed and embarrassed.

One of the hardest truths I’ve had to face is that not all voices were heard or honored, mine included. I entered the room as a polished professional, a poised host of the institute, just as I’ve done many times before. This space was meant to hold light, vulnerability, and community. Yet at first, I didn’t step forward as a storyteller, a code switcher, or a carrier of legacy. In a space designed for equity, where every voice should matter, it was painful to realize that some stories were elevated while others remained at the margins. There were many opportunities to share, and the voices of the dominant culture filled the space. Eventually, I found my way back to the voice I needed to bring, not just that of a facilitator, but one layered with identity, experience, and truth that too often go unseen.

Looking back, I can see how we prioritized our schedule agenda and the learning of some participants over the wholeness of the room. The structure moved us forward, but not always in the direction that was needed. There were moments when the energy shifted, when someone’s body language changed, or when a story cracked the surface of something deeper. These were invitations to pause, to make space, to tend. But instead, we kept moving. We honored the timeline, not the tension. We protected the pacing, not the people. That’s not the kind of space I want to cultivate. That’s not the kind of leader I want to be.

In equity work, creating space for all voices isn’t a goal to strive for later. It’s the baseline. And when that doesn’t happen, it leaves a mark. It did for me.

So I paused. Let it breathe. Let myself feel it. Reflected.

Honestly, I wanted to step away, distance myself from the work, and keep myself safe. The brain does that, I get it. Stress response, right? But after some much-needed time to reflect, I realized retreating wouldn’t create the change we need to see in our schools, our organization, or the world. So, I did what I do best. I made a plan. I made a plan to move into action.

Learning is a process. And if I’ve learned anything, it’s that when you have the chance to do this work with people who care about you and about the mission, it deepens everything. We call that the greenhouse. A greenhouse is a place where people come around you with intention, where growth is encouraged through trust, compassion, and care. It’s where you’re seen, supported, and stretched. For me, that greenhouse has been Neural Education, a community that has helped me grow in both confidence and purpose.

So we’re going back to the soil! Rethinking how we hold space. Being more intentional about how we show up for everyone. This work isn’t clean or easy. But it’s necessary. And I’m here for it.

Bouncing back is necessary. Challenges will come, but giving up isn’t the answer. We learn, adapt, and keep moving forward. The work is too important, and the change we want to see is worth the effort. And because of that, we’ll be back in July! Ready to grow, ready to build, and ready to keep showing up with full hearts and fresh energy. We can’t wait to see what we’ll create together next.

Thank you to everyone who came with open hearts. Your honesty made us better. And because of you, I’m growing.

In the greenhouse. With care. With love. With purpose.

Sophia