Reflections on UNGA 2025: Community, Trust, Collective Care, and Vulnerability

This year’s UN General Assembly (UNGA) came at a time when a shifting global political climate and intersecting crises are testing our collective resolve. What struck me most about my experience at UNGA—and in colleagues’ reflections on that week—was the importance of connection. Of being in community. Of standing in solidarity in times of disruption and in the face of aggressive efforts to dismantle social justice progress. There is comfort in connecting: in remembering who we are, in being reminded of our numbers, our strength, and our collective wisdom. There is power in seeing ourselves reflected in those with whom we share a common cause.

But something deeper is happening, too. I joined conversations about connecting across difference—choosing to call in rather than call out, to listen deeply rather than react. Where we may once have closed ranks against those using a different approach or lexicon, there is a growing willingness to open our minds, hearts, and arms a little wider. Where we may once have guarded our knowledge, networks, and resources, we are becoming more willing to share them, to build community rather than compete, and to demand change of the models that too often pit us against one another. We now recognize that the more we resist each other, the less successful we will be in reaching our social justice goals.

At the heart of this shift is trust. Feminist movement leaders have long referred to trust as the invisible scaffolding that holds coalitions together under pressure. Trust enables collective strategizing, the sharing of intelligence and tactics, and the pooling of resources. Crucially, trust also allows for vulnerability—the willingness to show up authentically, to admit uncertainty, to both give and receive the care that sustains us. Vulnerability is not weakness; it is courage. It is what allows us to lean on each other, to take risks together, and to continue showing up for the communities and issues we care so deeply about.

These reflections echo the findings of VITAL, a cross-border research and engagement project I led with abortion rights leaders in the United States (California, Texas, Georgia) and Latin America (Colombia, Argentina, Mexico). Across all contexts, community, trust, and collective care emerged as central lessons.

• Community. Leaders reminded us that abortion rights and reproductive justice are inseparable from struggles for racial justice, immigration, maternal health, LGBTQI+ rights, and more. By embracing these intersections and building diverse coalitions, movements become not only stronger but also more reflective of people’s real lives and urgent needs. As one Colombian advocate explained: “We deliberately built a coalition that reflected all dimensions of the movement … longstanding advocacy groups, legal expertise, grassroots organizations, accompaniantes from across the country, and medical voices—and we gave the same importance to all of them.”
• Trust. Participants emphasized that trust, engagement, and solidarity are the foundation of strong, sustainable grassroots movements. As Raven Freeborn, Executive Director at Avow Texas and member of the VITAL Technical Advisory Group, observed during our Reproductive Justice Without Borders webinar: “Relationship is a very strong currency, and movements grounded in relational wealth can contend for power and change the material conditions we live under. The question is whether we have the solidarity within ourselves, with each other, and across borders to build the human capital needed to win.”
• Collective Care. Leaders spoke not only of self-care but of a shift toward collective care. As Maria Elena Perez, US Programs Director at Ipas, shared: “In communities we are seeing a shift from self-care to collective care … And when we talk about people being our most valuable resource, caring for each other becomes even more important.” Collective care includes everything from direct service delivery and resource distribution to amplifying each other’s work and creating spaces for collaboration, rest, and safety.

Underlying all three is vulnerability. Psychology shows us that rather than isolating us, vulnerability deepens connections, enhances resilience, and drives social transformation. It fosters trust, empathy, and collective problem-solving. When we allow ourselves to be vulnerable—sharing fears, uncertainties, or exhaustion in safe collective contexts—we reduce isolation and open the door to healing. And when we recognize our shared vulnerability in the face of systemic injustice, we lay the groundwork for stronger communities, greater inclusivity, and more effective collective action.

As James Clear reminds us: “We don’t rise to the level of our goals; we fall to the level of our systems.” Our goals are clear and deeply shared. But unless we root them in systems of trust, connection, and collective care—built intentionally, collectively, and with fearless vulnerability—we will be hard-pressed to achieve them. Raven’s challenge rings in my ears: Do we have the solidarity within ourselves, with each other, and across borders to build the human capital needed to win? I believe we do—but it will require us to choose, again and again, to build that scaffolding of trust and vulnerability. Together, we can create the inclusive spaces we need to dream and build, meeting each moment with imagination and urgency and strengthening our movement for transformative change.