In our Healing Justice work at EJUSA, we have created a sacred space for survivors, victims’ family members, service providers, and those impacted by the justice system, who work to build safety and change national conversations around violence, trauma, and healing.
Modeling the Kindred Collective Model, we are creating our conditions for wellness and resilience across the movements we touch. The selfless sacrifices of our movement leaders don’t come without a cost. We often sacrifice our mental and physical wellness in the process of caring for others. Cultivating these spaces allows us, as advocates, to care for our most vulnerable, our healers. It’s our responsibility to support ourselves. Collectively we hurt, collectively we heal. To help us breathe, recharge, and refill our individual cups.
In my previous role, supporting our Trauma and Healing Network, I would check in with our partners, and each call mirrored the same troubling theme…exhaustion and depletion. All acknowledge their unhealthy commitment to the work and do not prioritize their wellness as they move towards burnout. Mentally and often physically, they were drained from the stresses of carrying the trauma of their communities. Their dedication to supporting their communities at the cost of their well-being seemed fractured. So, who saves the superhero in our spaces? We do. Community shows up for community; that’s safety, wellness, and our type of care.
It started with a simple vision. We didn’t have a big budget, so we led with our hearts. The first retreat we organized was cobbled together with whatever resources we could muster. Investment in our care was our priority. We retreated with our partners with a “relaxing workload” and thought we hit the mark. With laid-back sessions like “PJ’s and Productivity and Poolside Chat,” we changed the atmosphere and setting but met to discuss “the work.” We showed up as organizers instead of caretakers. Our partners told us, “We love the environment, but we don’t need an agenda—we are tired, and we just need to rest.” We heard them. We were putting superheroes in the classroom, asking them to continue to save the world instead of arming them with the tools to save themselves. They wanted fellowship, healing, care, and intentional time together. It was time to pivot.
We finally understood the assignment. We adjusted and built a retreat that was centered on care. The need for some therapeutic support was obvious and requested, so we prioritized and infused therapeutic care into our framework. We incorporated meditation for mindfulness, culinary healing, and tea parties for wellness, embracing ancestral holistic approaches of care by teaching the benefits of essential oils and creating candles and bath salts for care in our spaces. All in fellowship, all in community with one another. Together, the vision grew.
When we retreat, we’re not just resting; we’re learning. Our spaces are a resource. I call it “workshopping our healing”—every moment is a chance to learn how to care for ourselves, and that knowledge becomes a tool we take with us to refuel and share with our partners. I remember the first time Herman Lindsey, a death row exoneree who now leads Witness to Innocence, attended one of our retreats. Initially, he was a little skeptical: “All this lovey-dovey stuff isn’t for me.” But by the end, he had cultivated a collection of teas for his health and he shared the benefits of the meditation sessions embedded in the agenda.These are the moments where healing happens—when you’re surrounded by community, learning and creating resources, taking care of yourself, and realizing that you’re not alone.That’s the magic of these spaces—they meet you where you are and give you what you didn’t even know you needed.
This work is a journey, and we’re just getting started. As we continue to , we’re learning more and more about what it means to care for our community of caretakers. We’re not just organizing events; we’re creating lifelines for individuals who are doing the heavy lifting in the fight for justice.. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that healing isn’t a one-time thing. It’s ongoing. It’s a commitment. And it’s something we must continue to invest in as we prioritize care—not just for others, but for ourselves.
Healing work is personal. It’s emotional. And it’s hard. But it’s also beautiful. Every time we hold space for our partners, we remind them that they matter—that their healing and wellness matters. And in turn, we remind ourselves of the same. Now that’s justice, that’s healing justice.
Stay tuned for more information and stories about our healing justice work in 2025!
