The Whisper That Keeps Me From Letting Go: Leading With Heart When Reason Says “Give Up”

PositiveMinds | Positive Stories | Edition 064

Illustration by A. Coulibaly with canva.com

Some questions catch you off guard. Not because they’re complex, but because they cut straight to the soul.

It was supposed to be a routine online session — a leadership and management discussion with a group of country office managers. I had my notes, my talking points, my usual flow.

And then someone asked a question that stopped me cold: “Coul… how do you manage not to throw in the towel?”

This wasn’t a casual question. It carried the full weight of the times we’re living in.

In a world shaken by war, climate breakdown, rising authoritarianism, eroding solidarity, and crumbling trust in institutions, those of us working in development and humanitarian action are often seen as the last to hold the flame of hope.

But we, too, are exhausted.
Our sector is questioning itself. Paradigms are shifting. Certainties are collapsing.
We’re expected to be agile, decolonial, feminist, localized, efficient… all at once, and often instantly.
And in the noise of it all, leaders become the screen upon which collective doubts are projected.

So yes, that question —
“How do you not throw in the towel?” —
captured, in one breath, exhaustion, urgency, and a desperate need for honesty.

Silence.
I paused for ten seconds.
Even through a screen, I felt the tension rise.
The room was waiting. So was I.

I stood at a crossroads:
Should I answer with reason – that voice that shouts, demands logic, wants everything explained and justified?
Or should I answer with the heart – that voice that whispers, often barely audible, but which says what truly matters?

That day, I chose to listen carefully. And I let the heart speak.

“I don’t throw in the towel… because if I did, I would be betraying something sacred.”

I would betray that refugee mother raising five children alone in a crowded camp, still holding on to dignity despite despair.

I would crush the spirit of that 15-year-old displaced girl, a survivor of sexual violence, slowly starting to heal thanks to our teams.

I would disappoint the 15.3 million people we worked for and with across 81 countries last year.
Faces. Stories. Pain. And hope.

I would turn my back on our 2,300 partners, who are rooted in their communities and continue to push for justice against all odds.

I would let down our 8,280 staff members, many of whom work in silence and are often in danger, but who give life to our mission far beyond words.

Above all, I would betray my own life mission—to use my experience, voice, and privilege to walk with those the world would rather forget.

Sure, I could have answered with talking points — the fight against inequality, poverty, and injustice.
And I do believe in all of that.

But on that day, people weren’t asking for a strategy.
They were asking for truth.

And the truth is: yes, there are days when I want to give up.
Yes, I feel like Sisyphus, endlessly pushing that stone uphill.
But I hold on. And what helps me hold on is one simple but radical practice: gratitude.

Every night, before going to bed, I write down one thing I’m grateful for.
A kind gesture. A laugh. A moment of quiet.
Sometimes, it’s something small.
Sometimes, it’s a miracle I managed to write anything at all.
But that ritual grounds me. It reminds me why I continue.

Today marks day 974 of consecutive gratitude journaling.
And I’m slowly approaching the symbolic milestone of 1,000 days.
Not as a badge of honour — but as living proof that
I’m still standing.

To all leaders in development and humanitarian action:

Yes, we are tired.
Yes, we carry a world that feels heavier by the day.
Yes, we lead in a time of profound uncertainty.

But you are not alone.

In this work, reason often shouts, but the heart still whispers.
And in that whisper lies our strength.

As long as the heart speaks,
the towel stays in our hands.