May 2025
by Angel Villalobos, ETB Co-Director

The Ground Beneath the Whiplash*

It’s been just over 100 days since everything shifted—again. Not for the first time, but with a heaviness that feels familiar in a way it shouldn’t. We know what this is. It’s a familiar cycle—racism at the root, playing out through the same tactics, just more aggressive now and with even less pretense.

To stay grounded, I’ve been returning to the voices of those who came before me—especially my family, who’ve lived through their own versions of this. I think about their stories as immigrants—how they had to fight to survive in a country that treated their existence as a threat. I’m reminded that none of this is new, and none of it is happening in isolation.

Lately, I’ve felt it not just around me but in me—in how I process, how I focus, how I move through the day. I can feel it settling into my body—not as a standalone experience, but as a clue. A signal. A way of naming the pressure that’s been building and the state of constant adaptation we’ve all been pushed into.

That awareness is what moved me—literally. I found myself stuck at my desk, unable to start anything or remember why I’d even opened my laptop. So I moved—just into my plant room. But the shift was intentional. I needed a space that felt open, alive, connected. A space that could remind me to breathe, to slow down, to reorient.

And it did. The plants, the light, the quiet—all of it gave me just enough room to return to myself and to the work in front of me. That pause reminded me of what I’ve been leaning into lately: grounding practices and the spaces that help me hear what my body is holding and how I’m really doing.

That shift was sparked by my colleague Melissa Smith, MS (she/her) who recently shared about somatic practices in one of our team spaces. Her words helped me reconnect with a way of being I’d known before but had drifted from in the overwhelm. And that remembering opened the door to other practices I’ve been returning to—writing by hand when my thoughts feel scattered, changing my environment to reset, logging off when I’ve hit my limit.

These aren’t self-care tips for a slide deck. They’re what’s kept me from shutting down completely. They’ve helped me stay present in this work—and stay present with the people I do it with. And maybe most importantly, they’ve reminded me that sustainability isn’t a luxury or a future goal—it’s something we need now.

Melissa’s space reminded me that the feelings I was carrying weren’t mine alone. That what I was experiencing wasn’t isolation—it was connection, clouded by overwhelm. Grounding didn’t just help me make it through; it reminded me that I’m part of something bigger. And in that remembering, there’s power. There’s a way forward.

So here we are.
Pushing back against the whiplash, building ground with every step.

In the overwhelm, what helps you come back to yourself and stay connected to the collective strength it takes to keep moving forward?

*We use the word whiplash with intention. It speaks to the sudden, disorienting impacts of systemic violence—and we recognize it may also echo deeper historical traumas, particularly for Black communities. That resonance is not accidental. While today’s harms may look different, they continue a legacy of control, punishment, and forced adaptation. We offer this language with care and respect, holding both its poetic weight and the histories it may call forth.