Reader,

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Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about how to balance community care with self-preservation.

Because here’s what keeps coming up:

Someone emails asking if I know of a healer, or a training, or a resource, and I pause.

I want to help. I do want to help.

That’s who I am. That’s who many of us are.

But also:
I can feel that tiny pull of hesitation.

Because to respond—to curate, to think, to connect the dots—is labor.

Often unpaid (emotional) labor.

And then the spiral begins:
If I don’t respond, am I withholding community care?
If I do respond, am I betraying my boundaries?
Where’s the line between solidarity and self-sacrifice?

The truth is… there isn’t one clear answer.

I’m still figuring it out, too.

This is the messy middle of decolonial practice.

Where our desire for connection meets the need for rest.

Where the impulse to show up bumps against the reality of our capacity.

It’s not the fault of the person asking.

They just want to know. They’re reaching out for guidance, for belonging, for resources.

But it’s also true that, even well-intentioned requests create more labor (or harm in some cases.)

Because they land on the inboxes of people who are already carrying too much.

Let’s name the real culprits here:

💥 Oppression, that teaches us that asking and giving must always happen within hierarchies.

🎓 Grad school, that conditions us to perform “professionalism” within white, Western frameworks—sprinkled with a dash of cultural competency and called liberation. Therefore, I need to know more, and more, and more.

💸 Capitalism, that whispers “Buy the next course. Earn the next certificate.”

😣 Perfectionism, that sneaks in and says, “You’re not doing enough to be a good ally.”

None of this is your fault.

But all of it shapes how we relate to each other.

What if instead of trying to get it right,

we tried to stay in right relationship?

What if sometimes the most decolonial response is:

“I don’t have the bandwidth right now, but here’s one public resource I trust.”

Or even,

“I can’t help directly, but I hope you find what you need.”

Because this too is care…. (and it is my honestest wish that you find what you’re looking for)

It’s honest care.

Care that models capacity.

Care that resists the capitalist script of overextension and extraction.

We can still build community while honoring our limits.

We can still be generous without being consumed.

We can still help—but not at the expense of ourselves.

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Reflection Prompts

• When someone asks you for help or resources, what’s your first instinct—to give or to pause?
• What messages from grad school, capitalism, or perfectionism still shape your idea of being a “good helper”?
• What would it look like to help in a way that also honors your energy and time?
• How can you model boundaried care for your clients and peers?

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🌿

If this reflection stirred something in you—if you’re craving more space to pause, to wrestle gently with questions about reciprocity, community, and decolonial practice—then you’ll find that space inside my paid newsletter The Practice of Liberation.

It’s where I share what doesn’t fit into social media posts: the tender, nuanced, and evolving work of living liberation every day.

It’s also a space rooted in reciprocity—your support helps keep this work resourced, spacious, and sustainable.

The Practice of Liberation is a space for therapist, healers, and space holders who want more depth, integrity, and connection in how they show up—and less performance, perfectionism, and pressure to always get it right, but still remain in right relationship.

The doors open on Monday. Be on the lookout for the email and the link to join.

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In community,

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Silvana @ Decolonize Your Practice​

PS. If someone forwarded this newsletter to you, you can subscribe here.

PPS. You can read previous Liberatory Letters here.

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⬆️ Let's connect!