Words Matter
The Weight & Wonder of Language in Healing and Systems Change
In our work toward recovery, equity, and systemic transformation, we often use words that carry both hope and harm. Terms like resilience, vulnerability, empowerment, healing are common in clinical, educational, and community settings — framed as goals, strengths, or paths toward healing. But these words don’t live in a vacuum. They arise from specific cultural, historical, and personal contexts.
For some, resilience might evoke pride — surviving what felt unsurvivable. For others, it may sting — a reminder of the chronic stress, lack of support, or trauma they were forced to endure in systems that failed them.
We believe language matters. Words shape how we see ourselves and each other. They can connect or isolate, uplift or invisibilize. This newsletter invites a critical and compassionate look at the complex terrain of some of these “big” words — honoring their potential while naming their limits.
re·sil·ience
/rəˈzilēəns/
Common Definition: The capacity to recover quickly from difficulties; toughness.
Why It’s Celebrated:
Resilience is often praised as a strength — the ability to bounce back after adversity. It reflects endurance, adaptability, and courage. It can be empowering to recognize one’s own survival and capacity to move forward.
Why It’s Complicated:
Resilience is often romanticized in ways that erase the harm that made it necessary. When systems expect individuals to be endlessly resilient, it can justify neglect, ignore injustice, and shift blame onto those struggling. There’s also privilege in being allowed to heal — not everyone has access to the time, safety, or support needed to rebuild.
What We Might Say Instead or In Addition:
“No one should have to be this resilient.”
“Let’s build systems that don’t require people to constantly bounce back from harm.”
“Resilience is powerful — and so is rest, grief, and rage.”
vul·ner·a·bil·i·ty
/ˌvəln(ə)rəˈbilədē/
Common Definition: The quality or state of being exposed to the possibility of being harmed, either physically or emotionally.
Why It’s Celebrated:
Vulnerability is increasingly seen as a strength — the willingness to be open, honest, and emotionally present. In therapeutic and relational contexts, it can build trust and deep connection.
Why It’s Complicated: Not everyone can afford to be vulnerable safely. For people navigating racism, poverty, ableism, or trauma, vulnerability may carry serious risk. Encouraging vulnerability without attending to safety, context, and consent can be harmful. It’s also often gendered and racialized — with some people praised for vulnerability while others are punished or pathologized for the same behaviors.
What We Might Say Instead or In Addition:
“Vulnerability can be a strength — and it requires safety and consent.”
“Some people have had to be ‘strong’ for so long that vulnerability feels dangerous.”
“Let’s earn each other’s vulnerability by building trust first.”
em·pow·er·ment
/imˈpouərmənt/
Common Definition: The process of becoming stronger and more confident, especially in controlling one's life and claiming one's rights.
Why It’s Celebrated:
Empowerment suggests agency, autonomy, and self-determination. It’s often used to describe interventions or programs that help individuals or communities take control of their lives.
Why It’s Complicated:
The word implies that someone else gives or facilitates power — often reinforcing power imbalances. It can subtly suggest that people lack power until an institution, provider, or system "grants" it. It can also ignore the ways people have always resisted, created, and survived — with or without external validation.
What We Might Say Instead or In Addition:
“People already hold power — systems must stop taking it away.”
“Let’s focus on removing barriers, not bestowing empowerment.”
“Empowerment begins when we listen, not lead.”
heal·ing
/ˈhēliNG/
Common Definition: The process of becoming healthy again.
Why It’s Celebrated:
Healing suggests recovery, integration, and peace. It’s deeply human and often sacred work — a return to wholeness after pain or fragmentation.
Why It’s Complicated:
Healing is not linear, not always visible, and not always possible in the ways systems expect. The pressure to “heal” can silence grief, anger, or resistance. It can also be co-opted into performance or productivity — healing as something to “achieve” quickly, rather than a complex, lifelong, or communal journey.
What We Might Say Instead or In Addition:
“Healing can be messy, nonlinear, and incomplete — and that’s okay.”
“There’s no timeline for healing, and no shame in still hurting.”
“Sometimes survival is the healing.”
Language is alive. It evolves, it carries memory, and it shapes what we imagine is possible. The words we use in healing, recovery, and systems change matter — not because we need perfect vocabulary, but because we need deeper honesty, curiosity, and care. When we pause to reflect on the meaning beneath familiar terms, we open the door to more inclusive, compassionate, and justice-rooted conversations. Let’s keep listening — not just to what words say, but to what they ask of us. Together, we can build language — and systems — that honor people’s full humanity.