Liz Baxter

At work, two thoughts are top of my mind this week – creating a compassionate workplace, and hiring people with ‘lived experience.’ Both are terms that have been rising in mainstream media and both deserve some deeper discussion. 

This has been a tough couple of months for me and my family. I lost one of my sisters at the end of 2021, and lost my oldest brother in January, the day before we started our Partner Convening. This past week, I had two nephews in separate ICUs, one recovering from a stroke, and the other passing away. I’ve been struggling in some moments, and fully functional in others. I come from a large family, the fifth of six children. My parents had 22 grandchildren, and the great grandchildren list keeps growing. I grew up in poverty, and to this day I can’t imagine how my parents supported us all on my dad’s salary. (When he retired after 33 years working for the federal government, his salary was less than mine in my first year after college.) I’m trying to grapple with my older brother dying in the same time frame as one of our nephews. Our worlds and experiences are that different.   

My nephew struggled with addiction and alcohol, and yet, even as we knew he was burdening his physical self, we never imagined that his body would give out on him so young. I’m reminded of the book “The Body Keeps the Score.” My nephew carried years of accumulated physical and emotional trauma and even when he was ‘well,’ those years took a toll on his health and well-being. 

There was a recent opinion piece in the New York Times that has also been on my mind – When Someone You Love is Upset, Ask This One Question? It suggested asking “do you want to be helped, heard, or hugged?” I tried that with my team this week to see how it would play out. I shared about my two nephews, my brother facing a decision about taking his son off of life support and how that was weighing on me. I knew that they would feel sympathy for me and my family, empathy for what I’m going through, but I knew I didn’t want to tell them everything about my life and my family in that setting. They could not help me or my nephew with this pain, but they could surround me with compassion. Standing on a street corner in La Conner after a meeting, being hugged by five people who I know are also going through their own struggles, was medicine that I needed at that moment.

For our teams, I want to offer space where they can bring their whole selves to the table, but that doesn’t mean they have to share their whole stories with strangers or co-workers. Their lived experience is their own, and they get to choose if, how, and how much they want to share with others. My job is to create a space that allows them to feel safe in what they have to give on any given day. We all bring our experiences with us – family history, personal experiences, laughter, seriousness, and trauma. We don’t need a trauma-filled workspace, but we do need space that recognizes that my mood, my affect, my willingness to lean in, my attention span, my level of engagement that can and will be altered by things that my coworkers can’t see, and I may not want to bare all to them.  I want no assumptions made about why I am behaving in any certain way. Curiosity yes; judgment and assumptions no. Asking if there is anything I need, yes. Assuming I need to be fixed, no.

I share with colleagues that I’m always amazed at this emoji – 😂 – wondering if it is laughing while crying, or crying while laughing. It sounds silly, but when I am at my most vulnerable, some things can still bring me joy, or make me laugh. And when I am feeling joyful, parts of me still feel pain and tears at the underlying emotions that sit around our stories. It doesn’t mean that I am “fine” or that I’m “not fine.” I can be both at the same time. So if you stop me and ask me how I’m doing, my answer depends on how large of my own eco-system I’m responding from. “I’m doing well.” “Nanc and I are doing great.” “Our kids and their families are doing fine.” “I am grieving and suffering.” “My nephews lived really challenging lives, and we are all hurting around them.” All of those sentences can come forward at the same moment and all be true, and I never know which one will come forth first. At the same time people are being shot for knocking on doors, for pulling into a driveway, for rolling a basketball on a lawn. How can any of us be totally fine? It depends on how wide of a circle I’m responding from. 

A compassionate workplace would allow space for all of those, not because we need to pull a fire alarm, but in order to recognize that whole and amazing human beings can also be hurting, harmed, and living with things we are unaware of. Imagine a world where we can all be whole human beings and no one is trying to tell me a story with only one arc to it. It’s a lot of work, takes some trust and vulnerability, and it is totally possible.

In mid-February, former President Jimmy Carter opted for hospice care, and the media immediately began writing eulogies and obituaries, as if entering hospice means that death is imminent. In the statement from the family, “the decision was made after a series of short hospital stays.” It reminded me of my dad, who also chose hospice after a hospital stay where he realized that for him at 96, there was no cure for what was happening with his body. He wanted to be seen as a whole human being, and not as a patient who was dying. He wanted to live the rest of his life in peace, with family, in comfort, surrounded by caring individuals. He enrolled in hospice and lived for another 16 months. Eight years earlier my mom also chose hospice, but she had to advocate for it within her health system, and was so relieved after doing so. The reason she had to fight for it: her clinical team was afraid that she would give up her will to live if hospice was presented to her as an option.

I think sometimes we forget that being inside of a medical-treatment and cure-focused system is exhausting and takes its own toll on those who want a more peaceful arc to their lives. I’ve been thinking of the Carter family a lot this week, especially with the more recent news that the former president is ‘doing well’ in hospice, and I applaud their bravery in sending these messages out publicly.

How does this relate to North Sound ACH and its themes of belonging, targeted universalism, and equity? It is about how we belong to and with another, how we provide care and nourishment to each other, and how we make each person be seen in their total humanity, leaving space for our uniqueness and our commonality.

Imagine if we could do that in all facets of our lives, not just the final days, but every day? If those themes of caring, without thinking of cures, could extend to our policies around housing, employment, food security, immigration, transportation, health, and yes – even health care. If we can bridge themes of leading with belonging, humanity and love, we can accomplish so much more than by crafting more boxes, eligibility criteria, and rules that allow some people access while denying access to others.

Our histories differ, our current situations differ, and our access to meeting our vital needs differ. What we hold in common is our humanity, the fact that we are here and part of the fabric of our communities, and we will not heal if we allow portions of that fabric to continue to fray. For us to create a space where all belong, we must truly see and welcome everyone in the common space.

Be well,

The past twenty-four hours have brought snow, hail, rain, bright blue sky and tremendous winds. It must be getting close to spring, right?  

We held the first in-person partner convening in three years in January, and it was a mix of emotions – joy, passion, camaraderie, frustration, and challenge to do better and take more actions. New relationships were made, and I’ve already heard of small groups that are continuing to meet since their ‘open space’ discussions. We have almost twenty project submissions that have been submitted so far, and the Regional Projects Investments Support Committee (formerly called the Review Committee) is eager to start reviewing and approving them to move forward. 

For the past six years, one of the largest responsibilities that North Sound ACH has undertaken is a partnership with the Washington Health Care Authority (HCA) to carry out its Medicaid Transformation Project – a federal waiver that allowed initiatives to flourish and grow to advance the health and well-being of people on Medicaid. It was an incentive-based agreement, and there were things that each region had to demonstrate in order to earn dollars for the region. And oddly, while the work is completed and there are no more deliverables, we will not receive the last of North Sound’s earnings until mid/late 2024.

That leaves us with unprecedented opportunities to imagine how we can invest dollars to advance equitable well-being across the region. That’s what we have been seeking from you in reporting, surveys, zoom discussions, and the partner convenings. Who could have envisioned that we’d be hearing demands to acknowledge historic and current oppression and harm, and learning a salsa dance in the hallway? Laughing at the joy of seeing people in real life, and feeling the discomfort of painful truths that must be learned and recognized. I have lived my life ‘in-between’ – visible and invisible, marginalized and in seats of privilege, access to leaders with power and had my voice muted. What we are asking members of the network to take part in will not happen in any single meeting. Movements rarely do. But I believe it will continue to grow, as we find space for those who are impatient and those who are so new they don’t know what the impatience is about. We can have joy and lean into discomfort in the same day, the same hour, the same meetings. We must. And, as we build trust and relationship it will become more clear just how far we can move this work forward. 

Another thing that the end of the (first) Medicaid waiver does for us, is provide a period of transition. Internally things are changing at North Sound ACH, and we will announce some of those changes in the upcoming newsletter. New and emerging leaders are stepping into roles that have been crafted because of your input. In the second quarter, we will be hosting a convening of DEI leads from across the Network (if interested, please fill out this survey), and planning for a region-wide Community Health Worker convening. 

I appreciate each and every person who shares their ideas with me and our team, even when you think we don’t want to hear what you’re saying – we do; and we incorporate what we learn into our upcoming planning. Throughout my career I’ve often said “I don’t need another someone just like me; I need someone who brings other perspectives, other experiences, other purviews – how else can I learn what I haven’t seen?” That’s what our team does, what you add to us and to each other, and I hope you will continue on this journey as we continue to make this region one where all feel they belong. 

Be well, 

We build on the strengths of all in the community and amplify their voices, stepping back so that nothing is in the way of communities making the best decisions they can within their own networks.”

“We have intentionally sunsetted structures that do not meet the needs of the next generation, and have invested resources to build what will meet their future needs.” 

“The concept of ‘eligibility’ disappears from our lexicon.

That’s what I wrote on my radical re-imagination post-its – I want that world for my grandson and whatever his future brings. Maybe it isn’t radical enough, but our dreams morph and stretch depending on the mind’s work that day. 

As we internally debrief about the convening, the notion of exhaling has been stuck in my mind. I learned it while preparing for the birth of my oldest, but didn’t understand it until I was in the process of delivery. And for 41 years (yes, the age of my oldest), I come back to that time and time again. It is during an exhale that we can navigate when we’re in pain, when we’ve pulled a muscle, or experiencing a spasm. Inhaling provides oxygen and blood flow, and exhaling provides a period of ease.  

Our team decided to re-enter the universe of in-person meetings, believing that creative brainstorming is better when we’re in rooms together. We have optimized the heck out of Zoom, and we haven’t seen the last zoom call, but there’s a different feeling of having a call with someone you’ve just met versus a handshake or a hug in person. We’re just so glad to not be as reliant on technology. There is something magical, for lack of a better word, that occurs when I can turn to a person next to me, or while walking the hall, or grabbing food, with curiosity, asking questions to learn more.  

We talked about trust over those two days but in reality, it is harder to trust when we don’t have relationships with each other. The intention of both two days was to connect us, introduce us, and ignite/re-ignite relationships with each other. 

We had some times that felt tense. Issues were raised about radical imagining, challenging us to go deeper and further. Tension that caused some in the room to hold their breath, anxious about what would happen next. What we didn’t do well was to collectively exhale, allow the tension to sit, learn from it, and figure out how to navigate the next steps. We can get better at that.

Organizations are used to having deliverables, outcomes; an agenda, a syllabus, and tools that they can take home at the end of a conference, ready to file away or share with others. Our hope – is that the tools you took home were a name, contact information, and an idea for a future collaborative project or partnership(s). 

Because the richness of North Sound ACH is you, our team, board, partner organizations, and further extensions into communities. We have built a strong team, ready to help you amplify and grow your work and impact. Our board sets the organization’s direction by stating a purpose for our existence – to create a just and inclusive culture and the necessary conditions for all community members to thrive.  

We’re looking for ways to directly connect where you see needs and how the ACH leverages available resources, and how we look for additional resources to bring to the table. 

I was reflecting on Van Kuno’s comment about how people see her as always being very “calm and zen.” Many people see me in a similar way – this gentle, calm elder. You don’t often get to see the idealist, impatient, and tenacious Liz. I have spent my career at the intersections of policy and practice, between traditional decision-makers and people who are most impacted, between formal and academic language, and plain language. I’ve spent many a day as an activist and advocate, and these days as a bridge builder.

We won’t think ‘outside the box’ unless we recognize how easy it is to accept current structures and paradigms as givens and immovable, without realizing that we’re assuming they must stay in place (perpetuating their existence). It is always good to get those reminders and not seize up but to also exhale.

I was very grateful to be in space with you all, I picked up a lot of ideas in small discussions with those I haven’t seen in a long while, and from others who I met for the first time. 

I hope you all took the time to complete our post-convening survey. Being the first time in-person in three years, we want to hear from you before we plan subsequent sessions. We look forward to sharing future space with you to dream, heal, and brainstorm solutions that build new constructs and legacies. 

Glad to be on this journey with you –

I’ve been reflecting on steps forward and setbacks, the ebb and flow of actions and impact. We are impatient when we see injustice, and at the same time steadfast and tenacious about social justice issues. I understand both sides and experience both sets of emotions within myself.

Watching the news this week as the President signed the Respect for Marriage Act was a bit surreal to be honest. Not because it wasn’t important to me as a member of the LGBTQIA+ community, but because as a woman of color, and a child of an interracial marriage, seeing this bill also protect interracial marriage impacted me emotionally. Fifty-five years after the Supreme Court decision prohibited states from banning interracial marriage (Loving v Virginia), our Congress has passed a law to protect people like me, my parents, and my children. Fifty-five years. How could I not realize that there was no law on the books protecting interracial marriage?

We are on a long journey, and I hear Martin Luther King Jr.’s voice say, “The arc of the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice.” I believe it, and some days are harder than others to be patient.

At the 1993 march, being in the nation’s capital with a million people from the LGBTQIA+ community was indescribable. It wasn’t just the march – it was being in restaurants, on the metro, in museums and parks; we were everywhere and it was the norm, not the exception. We saw each other and saw ourselves in each other’s eyes. It has been 29 years since that march, yet I still feel the memories as part of one million people seeking one thing – to be seen and have the same legal rights as others. The Respect for Marriage Act is profound, yet, I’m uneasy that interracial marriage was included in the bill so quietly – not talked about by the media during the congressional debate or during the signing ceremony. 

On April 25, 1993 I joined the “March on Washington for Lesbian, Gay and Bi Equal Rights and Liberation” and the bracelet I wore still sits on a table. The National Park Service estimated that more than one million marchers were present. This has been on my mind because of our recent trip to Phoenix with colleagues for Facing Race, a conference held for the first time since 2018 by Race Forward. Being in community with thousands of people who share something in common is really powerful, and several people (staff and partners) have commented on it to me since our return to the Northwest – it was amazing to be surrounded by people of color. 

So many of us are at intersections in our lives; I hope you can spend some time thinking on that for yourselves, and the next time we meet in person. I am a descendent of two amazing and loving families who put me where I am today – originally from Africa, France, Panama and more. My family lived in poverty, but I didn’t realize it until I got my first job after college, when I earned more than my father did when he retired after 33 years working for the federal government. There is no single word or affinity group that would encompass the whole of who I am. I imagine that is true for so many of us.

As North Sound ACH sees its future, we are having conversations that range from radical imagination to radical love. Without acknowledging past harm we cannot get to ways of healing, and we believe we can get there if belonging (radical love) is included in our framework. I imagine it sounds kind of out there, but if we believe we are connected and interdependent on each other, what else could bind us but love?

That is the magic in the approach we’re taking, and yet it isn’t radical or magical at all. We will create new structures, ready to take the place of current structures that keep community members from thriving. One of our recent panelists asked, “What will be in place the day after we dismantle structures that perpetuate systemic racism?” As I think about the work of 2023 and beyond, I can’t think of a better question to kick us off in the new year. I am grateful to the amazing team I’m honored to work with, a fantastic board that leaves room for our work, and partners who serve and care for community members every day. Thank you for all you do.