Blog by Sumana Harihareswara, Changeset founder
If You Don't Know What To Do
Recently, at the outreach table I run, I asked a guy what he's concerned about. He talked about an issue that's breaking his heart. I asked what actions he's taking on that issue, and he said he didn't know what to do -- what he could do that would actually make a difference.
He said that my response helped him, so I figured I'd share it here, and add some thoughts.
First, I mentioned a local organization he could volunteer with, and a specific thing they do and why. He shared more about his concerns and why their approach doesn't quite line up with what he thinks is most important.
So then I asked him whether he knew the phrase "theory of change." He didn't. I gave him the explanation I've written here a few times before (Wikimedia and the late Aaron Swartz also summarized it).
Then I gave an example. Let's say you're concerned about gender diversity in computer science; you notice a big imbalance currently, and you believe that in a future with representation that better reflects the world we live in, the tools we make will better suit all of us and empower all of us more equally.
What specific work might help us get closer to that future?
Complex problems often have multiple causes, and different people and groups often need to work on those different causes. So, in this example, one group might point out the importance of gender equality in early childhood education, and focus its work on that. Another might say: mid-career scholars get published unequally because of the sexist impact of various factors, so we have an initiative to offer free academic editing services to gender-marginalized scholars.
But what should you work on?
Different people might be better suited to different work, considering their existing strengths and temperament. Of course people can learn new skills, but temperament is harder to adapt. If you really like working with small children, maybe teaching young children is a good way for you to contribute to addressing gender diversity in science and tech. If you prefer quiet analytical work, then helping with editing research drafts might be a better choice.
So: if you care a lot about an issue, look into different groups who are working on it. Figure out each one's theory of change. Some will explicitly state it somewhere, and some won't but you can make your own assessment. Ask yourself: do you agree with them? Does the group's theory of change match your understanding of the problem and plausible ways to address it?
Then, ask yourself: what are you good at? What skills, relationships, knowledge, temperament, etc. do you bring? Given that, is there a good way for you to join and help with what this group is doing?
At the very least, this offers a framework for evaluating and pursuing action, instead of just thinking "I don't know what to do about this."
The guy was very receptive, and said this felt sensible -- it's a good approach to take in life in general, he said, adding that it seemed like this isn't something a lot of activists talk about.
So I said: we do talk about it amongst ourselves, and in grant proposals, and so on. But, when talking with the general public, activists often need to streamline our message to get it across, and boil it down to "WE NEED TO DO [X] TO SOLVE PROBLEM [Y]!" Which is true, but they often don't have room to add the nuance footnote saying, "And, this is only one part of a multipronged strategy pursued simultaneously by a wide range of other groups, all of which are important but perhaps on different timescales."
And he found that helpful too.
Later, I thought about the meta-work of finding a niche to work in. Sometimes it takes some trial and error, finding activities that are feasible and sustainable (including emotionally) as well as effective (even in a small way). It's important to really notice the "hey, this nourishes me" feeling, along with the "hey, doing this is making a difference" data and the "hey, I'm better at this than the median person who tries" data.
That last one can be tough to internalize, for those of us reflexively wary of getting arrogant. Recently, in my own head, I've been using the metaphor that I'm "tall" at things.
That is: If I were the tallest person in a group, I'd be the one who helps grab things off high shelves. And that would be fine, as long as it's not All The Time, and other people don't just take me for granted. And probably there would be other things that other people are particularly good at, better than the rest of us, and the little favors we do would all balance out.
(Here in the USA in 2025, I am much more often the shortest person in the group. I am used to it. The idea of being physically tall feels more science fictional to me than living on the moon. Yet many of you walk among us! What a brilliant tapestry constitutes our shared world.)
There are some activities that I am .... it often feels uncomfortable to say that I'm good at them. But I seem to be able to consider myself "tall" at them. That is, I seem to have the ability to do them more easily than the other people I'm around can. How much of that is nature and how much is nurture? What's skill and what's temperament? And am I objectively good at those activities? Those are interesting questions for contemplation, but if the moment calls for action, I can avoid getting snagged by definitions, and the mismatch between interior feelings and shared reality, and so on by instead thinking that I am "tall" at them -- for whatever combination of reasons, those shelves seem easy for me to reach, relative to how the other folks in the group feel.
Example: initiating group social things. I am unintimidated by the prospect of, say, throwing a note up on a social media platform to say: let's get together at this particular date and time! Or, for that matter, blogging, and public speaking, and starting and running an outreach table, and some other activities that carry some risk of public criticism, or of finding that no one shows up to be audience or to be the other part of the conversation.
One big useful effect of this new "tall" framing is: I can feel less frustrated when other people have a hard time following my lead, and I can accept that I'm going to be one of the people in this group who carries a disproportionate amount of the load for particular activities. (As long as I don't get super fixed-mindset about it I think it's fine. Carol Dweck, tell me if I'm wrong!) I can set up scaffolding, I can teach, etc., but also I can accept that most people just can't or won't do those things. And: it makes it easier for me to accept that other people are particularly "tall" at some things I struggle with, and that we can all contribute and help each other out, and that's why a movement isn't just one person!
We are all in this together. Hope this helps.
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