Why I'm Leaving My Feminist Job

Straight out of college, I got my dream job with a national reproductive health organization.  I was coordinating all of our volunteer projects, working on special events and even dabbling in some public affairs work.  I phone banked for Obama, did an overhaul of our existing programs and implemented some new opportunities. I had the freedom to try new ideas and got paid to hang out with volunteers - the people who care the most about our mission.

And last week, less than 3 years after taking my dream job, I resigned. 

It wasn't an easy decision. Was the management perfect, the workplace drama free, and all of those other happy workplace things? Of course not, but that's not why I left. I left because...

• I have to leave to get the skills to come back.  Many non-profit organizations just don't have networks in place to move their talented young people up through the ranks.  We're still fighting older feminists to "prove ourselves" (see my post about what that's crap here).  There's no money to pay for conferences and classes, and the interest in mentoring young people just isn't there.  While there are certainly people who feel otherwise, they seem to be the exception, not the rule.
• I have to leave to avoid burn out.  Our colleagues in rape crisis centers and domestic violence prevention programs have learned something that we haven't - you have to take care of yourself so you can take care of others.  Walking through a picket line to get to work everyday takes its toll; not knowing if someone will call you a "baby-killer" when you introduce yourself - that just gets old.  The reproductive health movement hasn't built the same support network that other areas of feminist work have, and it's telling.  Do I think these protesters and anti-choicers are right, or are they making me less pro-choice? Of course not.  Does seeing them every single day take its toll? You better believe it.
• I can do more for the movement by not working there.  I have decided to stay with my organization as part of their Young Professionals group, and I can already see myself taking more risks and being willing to do more now that I'm a volunteer and not a staff person.  My whole identity isn't tied into this anymore, so when someone disagrees with me, it's easier to shrug it off.  In my new job, I'll be building my network in my community far beyond just the people whose main cause is reproductive health, which allows me to connect new people to the work. 
• It's someone else's turn. My job was awesome when I had just graduated from college, when I didn't even know how to act in a business meeting, when I didn't mind working 70 hours a week.  This job will make another young feminist incredibly happy, and s/he will be able to build on the work that I did, as I was able to build on the work that was done before me.  Our organizations need new ideas and fresh energy, and I could see myself losing that.  I care too much about the movement and the organization to let them suffer because the work was personally taking a toll on me.

My new position is working with a leadership development program for inner city youth.  Bringing a feminist prospective to this work will be important, as will all of the personal and professional opportunities this new job will provide me.  I'm grateful that I spent the first few years of my career where I did, but it's time for something new.