The Strategy of Disruption: Staying Grounded in a World on Fire

One drop. One choice. That’s all it takes to interrupt the burn.

We’re not just watching the news. We’re being dragged through it, headline after headline, each one more chaotic, cruel, or absurd than the last. But if it feels like too much to process, that’s not an accident. It’s the point.

The strategy isn’t subtle. Flood the public square with outrage. Ignite so many fires that focus becomes impossible. Exhaust people’s capacity to care or act. When everything is urgent, nothing is clear. And when nothing is clear, power moves in the shadows.

But understanding the tactic gives us power back. This isn’t just about any one event. It’s about the pattern. And in that pattern, we find the real danger: not just what’s being done, but how it’s being done. If we want to protect what matters, we have to stop chasing the sparks and start recognizing the fire. That means choosing our battles. Standing up where it counts. And helping each other stay grounded, alert, and ready.

This Is Not Normal. And That’s the Point

At some point, we stop asking how we got here and start adjusting to the idea that here is just how it is. That’s the slow, dangerous effect of normalization. Not a single, sweeping event, but a steady drip of distortion until the absurd becomes expected, and the unethical becomes administrative.

But this isn’t just a cultural slide. It’s a tactic.

Flood the zone with noise. Blur the line between incompetence and cruelty. Make each new overreach feel only slightly worse than the last. And while everyone’s trying to catch up, you make your moves.

Manipulate the stock market to benefit allies. Upend longstanding NGOs. Launch tariffs like a game of whack-a-mole. Fire those who resist. Round up international students, even those from top universities, and send them back. Exclude the press, then call it freedom. Frame dissent as un-American, while stripping away what actually makes America free.

All of this under the banner of greatness.

But America isn’t great when its people are terrified. When its scholars are exiled. When its truth-tellers are silenced. When its institutions are repurposed to punish.

This isn’t just chaos. It’s choreography. And if we don’t name the rhythm, we’ll dance straight into the collapse pretending it’s order.

Choose Your Battles, But Don’t Sit Them Out

You don’t have to chase every headline. In fact, you shouldn’t.

That’s part of the trap. Flood the field with fires until everyone’s too scattered to hold ground. Exhaust people with a constant need to respond so they never get to rebuild. And in that burnout, power consolidates quietly.

But choosing your battles isn’t surrender. It’s strategy.

It means asking: Where can I make an impact? What deserves my voice, my time, my energy—not just today, but consistently? What fight aligns with the values I refuse to compromise?

Because there is strength in focus. In sustained, intentional action. And there’s danger in spreading so thin that you mistake awareness for effectiveness.

It’s easy to get pulled into the stream of outrage and feel like you’re doing something just by being angry. But the work now isn’t reactive. It’s deliberate. Rooted. Disciplined.

Pick your battles. Build coalitions. Show up where it counts. Let your choices be loud. Not because you shouted, but because you meant it.

And when those choices start to land, when you hit the pressure points, they’ll try to make you doubt your power. That’s when you double down. That’s when you go strategic.

Stay Frosty, And Act with Precision

There’s a difference between being alert and being reactive. Between spiraling in outrage and standing in clarity. Right now, the chaos is by design, but so is the response.

We need to move beyond fire drills and toward firewalls.

Start with the press. A free press is the lifeline of democracy, and when reporters are uninvited or removed, that’s not a logistical choice but an assault on truth. Communities can speak, but without press amplification, the reach is limited. Restoring media access, protecting journalists, and demanding transparency are non-negotiable.

Next, pressure must rise. Not just on the usual political targets, but on the silent ones. The elected officials and appointees who’ve chosen complicity through fear. Whether they agree with what's happening or are simply too afraid to push back, the message must be clear: the people put you there, and the people can remove you, too.

The same pressure belongs in the judiciary. Judges who are not politically compromised must be louder, clearer, more public about the status of cases and what they’re prepared to do if rulings are ignored. Silence is not virtue. It’s abandonment.

And the Department of Government Efficiency may sound like a cure. But efficiency without ethics is brutality in disguise. DOGE must be held accountable, not just as an institution, but as an ideology that justifies harm in the name of function.

If you're one of the few still inside the system, someone with access, leverage, or a platform, this part is for you. You’ve waited for the right moment to push back. If you’re ready to stand up, this is your script. Use it:

“Tonight, I’m not going to pretend that the system is working as it should. I’m not going to ask you to place faith in institutions that have been gutted, repurposed, or silenced. I won’t insult you with promises of accountability from the very people who’ve chosen to serve power over principle.

But I will say this: even compromised systems still contain people of conscience. Whistleblowers. Inspectors general. Data analysts. Civil servants who’ve quietly resisted by documenting, delaying, refusing to break the law. If you are one of them, now is the time to act. Release the memos. Flag the discrepancies. Expose the abuses. If they’ve buried the truth, dig it up and bring it to light. We will protect you.

For the public: don’t wait for the government to save itself. Start building your own firewalls. Digitally, that means encrypting communication, verifying sources, and breaking the cycle of clickbait and misinformation. Civically, it means connecting offline. Strengthening local networks that can’t be shut down with a switch or silenced by a single platform ban.

And morally? It means refusing to look away. Because that’s how it all starts. Someone looks away. And then someone else. And then it’s too late.

We are not helpless. But we are responsible. When the institutions fall silent, the people must speak louder. And we must be smarter. Fiercer. Unafraid to call a lie a lie, even when it’s dressed in bureaucracy and draped in the flag.”

The Way Through

The goal isn’t just to survive the storm. It’s to remember who we are in the midst of it, and who we choose to become on the other side.

What we’re witnessing isn’t just dysfunction. It’s a calculated unraveling. And yet, our response can’t simply be to unravel in return. If disruption is the strategy, then intentionality is our counterweight.

We don’t win by mirroring the noise. We win by refusing to be shaped by it. That means choosing our words, our actions, and our battles with precision. It means focusing not just on outrage, but on outcomes. Not just on what we oppose, but on what we protect and build.

And most of all, it means holding fast to truth. Not just facts, but moral clarity. Integrity. Memory. Vision.

Because the fight now is not only for laws or headlines. It’s for the very idea of a just society. One that doesn’t erase the vulnerable to preserve power. One that doesn't weaponize silence or efficiency or fear.

So don’t get lost in the flood. Don’t let them turn your fire into fog.

Stand clear. Speak deliberately. Move with purpose. And help others do the same.

The way through is forward, but only if we walk it together, eyes wide open.

What You Can Do

You don’t need a title to take a stand. You need clarity, courage, and a plan.

• Protect and amplify the truth. Support independent journalism. Share verified stories. Push back against disinformation, even when it’s uncomfortable.

• Apply pressure where it matters. Call out silence in elected officials, school boards, judges, even university presidents. If they fear the administration more than they fear betraying the people, remind them who they answer to.

• Track the law, not just the noise. Alarm is valid. So is legal process. Follow and amplify the status of key lawsuits and court rulings. Bring visibility to what’s actually being challenged, what’s being upheld, and where decisions are being ignored.

• Support whistleblowers. Whether through legal defense funds, signal boosts, or platforms that share their stories. These people take risks so the truth survives. Don’t let them stand alone.

• Build local firewalls. Organize town halls. Strengthen mutual aid. Show up for community. Not just in protest, but in presence.

• Stay alert, but stay human. Read. Rest. Reconnect. This is a long game, and despair is part of the strategy. Don’t give them your burnout.

You don’t have to be an expert or insider to be an informed participant. You just have to be paying attention, and willing to refuse silence when it matters. That’s how it starts.

We walk forward together. Eyes wide open.

Leading Without Apology

Discernment doesn’t trend. But it’s the foundation of honest leadership.

When approval becomes the reward for silence

We tell young people—especially girls—to be open. To share. To listen. To be willing to consider other points of view. On the surface, that’s not bad advice. But what happens when the call for openness becomes a performance? Or worse, a tool of manipulation?

In my work—from Girls Ignited and The Power of 100 Girls to global efforts with the UN and World Bank—I’ve seen how deeply this messaging shapes young people, especially girls. And not just in the U.S. Girls around the world are watching, often looking to the West for cues about what leadership, empowerment, and possibility look like. That’s why it matters so much that we model true strength—not the kind wrapped in constant likability, but the kind grounded in clarity, discernment, and self-trust.

I’ve watched the opposite happen online, especially among influencers, brand-builders, and those who make their living cultivating a following. There’s a certain script: radical positivity, emotional vulnerability at just the right moments, and a curated openness that rewards likability over truth. For girls and young women watching—and contorting themselves to fit that model—it can be quietly devastating.

Because here’s what doesn’t get said: not all perspectives deserve equal space. Not every disagreement is rooted in good faith. And not every boundary is a refusal to grow. Discernment is the word that holds it all—curiosity with boundaries, openness with wisdom.

But discernment doesn’t trend. And complexity doesn’t go viral.

Not sorry. And not performing.

So what spreads instead? The idea that disagreement is failure. That pushback is harshness. That true belonging means being endlessly understanding, even when it costs you your truth.

This is not empowerment. It’s erasure.

I believe we have a responsibility to the next generation—not to push them into more uncertainty or shame, but to help free them from the contradiction. The contradiction of being told they’re powerful, while being rewarded for silence. The contradiction of being told to lead, while being punished for setting limits. The contradiction of being praised for being open, when what’s really being asked is to be palatable.

We don’t need more palatable. We need more real.

And realness means sometimes saying no. Sometimes drawing a line. Sometimes refusing to perform connection when what’s needed is clarity.

That’s the kind of openness I want to model. Not the kind that makes everyone comfortable, but the kind that makes everyone honest.

This is why initiatives like Girls Ignited and The Power of 100 Girls exist. It’s why I wrote So You Want to Be a Youth Leader —not to hand young people a script, but to create space for them to lead as whole people. Not hollowed out by approval, but rooted in clarity, courage, and connection. Because real leadership doesn’t require you to shrink. It asks you to show up—with discernment, with voice, and without apology.

Accolades Fatigue: Balancing Gratitude and Staying True to Your Purpose

Accolades are an inspiring affirmation of hard work, dedication, and impact. But for some, frequent recognition can bring a sense of weight, a feeling I call “accolades fatigue.” While I’m deeply honored each time I’m recognized, there’s a complex balance between gratitude and the drive to stay true to my purpose: sparking others to step up and engage in meaningful change. I hope that sharing my journey might resonate with others who feel a similar tension.

With each accolade comes an assumption—sometimes unspoken—that being “accomplished” means consistently excelling, without the ups and downs that define any true path to success. People may assume that being recognized for achievements means there’s little room for missteps, yet it’s often through setbacks and failures that true growth happens. I’ve learned that these experiences are essential stepping stones, even if they aren’t always part of the public story.

For me, the weight of recognition isn’t about imposter syndrome, but rather about the expectations it sets and the assumptions that follow. It’s a reminder that achievements are one part of a larger, sometimes messier, journey. I’ve learned that acknowledging this truth is important—not just for myself but for others who may see themselves in my story.

Expressing gratitude without sounding insincere or overly humble is a challenge. I want to honor the recognition from those who have awarded me, and I’m genuinely thankful. At the same time, it’s important to me that accolades don’t overshadow the work itself. Sometimes, talking about “accolades fatigue” feels like walking a tightrope; I don’t want to come across as ungrateful or complaining. Yet acknowledging it helps me to remain genuine and balanced, and hopefully, it reassures others that they don’t need to measure themselves by accolades alone.

My true passion lies in seeing others take action, engage in their communities, and create their own impact. For me, this is the real reward—knowing that something I’ve done might inspire someone else to contribute in meaningful ways. Recognition can sometimes shift the focus, making it feel like the spotlight is more on me than on the causes I care about. By returning to what drives me, I keep the focus on impact, encouraging others to pursue their passions and be changemakers in their own right.

As an introvert and someone who is neurodivergent, public recognition comes with unique challenges. I often prefer to keep a low profile, though I push myself to speak out because I believe it can spark positive change. This internal tension—between wanting to stay behind the scenes and stepping forward to make a difference—is something I continually navigate. It’s not always comfortable, but I hope that by sharing this aspect, others might feel empowered to honor their own needs while still embracing their call to contribute.

Success isn’t a straight line. I’ve found that embracing the full journey—the achievements and the setbacks—brings a richness to my work that accolades alone can’t capture. By acknowledging both the highlights and the struggles, I’m able to stay grounded, focused on what truly matters, and open to learning. Each experience is a step toward deeper growth, and it’s this ongoing journey that I hope others will feel inspired to embrace as well.

For those who might feel fatigued by seeing others’ accolades, it’s often because the celebration overshadows the story behind it. Sharing the journey—failures, lessons, and purpose—brings out the humanity in these accomplishments, making them feel more relatable and less about self-promotion. I understand that constant praise can seem repetitive. My goal, however, isn’t to accumulate accolades but to spark impact. Each recognition is a step toward a greater purpose, not just a notch on the belt. These moments, though I’m often hesitant to share them, inspire my work and drive to help others. I invite you to envision the impact beyond the personal spotlight not only regarding me, but your own milestones.

Accolades are a gift, but they don’t define the purpose or passion behind the work. My hope is to balance gratitude with authenticity, keeping the focus on what truly matters: inspiring others to find and pursue their own passions, make a difference, and create positive change in their communities. For those who experience similar feelings, I encourage you to honor both the recognition and the journey. After all, it’s the quiet moments, the meaningful contributions, and the people we inspire along the way that ultimately define our impact.