📝 What I Didn’t Know Was Advocacy (A Letter I Wrote in 2013)

📝 What I Didn’t Know Was Advocacy (A Letter I Wrote in 2013)

“At the time, I didn’t know this was advocacy. I just knew I was a mom who cared—and that no one was listening.”

Back in March of 2013, I wrote a resignation letter. I was stepping down from my role as Chairperson for Early Head Start and Policy Council—something I had once felt honored to be a part of.

But somewhere along the way, my passion to make things better was met with resistance, condescension, and a wall of red tape. I was just a young mom trying to advocate for my child. What I received in return was pushback, and worse—dismissal.

I’ve decided to share a cleaned-up version of that letter today, because it reminds me of something important: sometimes the first time you stand up for your child is also the first time you stand up for yourself.

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An Open Letter from My 2013 Self

Dear Whoever and Everyone,

I’m resigning from my position as Chairperson for Early Head Start and the Policy Council.

I joined this program full of hope. I believed in what it was supposed to stand for—supporting families, building strong communities, and helping children thrive. But once I had a concern about my son’s care, everything changed.

When I asked about daily updates—especially after they told me he was having accidents I wasn’t informed about—I was met with excuses. I was told they didn’t tell me because he might “already feel bad enough about himself.”

But in our home, accidents weren’t shameful. We celebrated successes with stickers and encouragement. That response didn’t just disregard my parenting—it disrupted the progress we were making together.

Then came the home visit. It lasted less than 10 minutes. When I mentioned using time-outs, I was met with judgment. Their solution? “We just take them for a walk.” That’s great for some kids. But my child needed clearer boundaries.

Despite all this, I kept trying. I poured energy into my role on the Parent Committee. I worked to get agendas out, build involvement, and make the space welcoming. But even there, I was met with pressure from leadership to bend to their preferences, not the parents’. Even though, according to Head Start policy, the Parent Committee is supposed to be exclusively parents. Exclusively.

When I quoted policy back to them, they acted like I was out of line for even reading it.

It became clear: they didn’t want parent voices. They wanted parents who nodded, smiled, and said nothing.

I was never trying to be a problem. I was trying to make things better—for all of us. For the next parent. For the next child.

I still believe in the heart of the program. But you can’t grow a healthy garden if you never till the soil. You can’t ask for parent involvement and then shut us out.

So, I’m stepping away for now. But I hope one day the program will welcome real dialogue. Because parents deserve to be heard—and our children deserve nothing less.

Sincerely,
Tashena (2013)

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Looking Back with 2025 Eyes

Reading this over again reminds me just how far I’ve come. I didn’t have the language for it back then, but I was advocating. I was doing exactly what I now teach other parents to do: speak up, trust your instincts, and know that your voice matters—even when others try to silence it.

This letter was never just about Early Head Start. It was about systems that say they want community input—but aren't prepared to actually receive it. It's about how exhausting it can be when you're one of the only people willing to ask the hard questions. It's about that fire that starts burning when you're a parent trying to protect your child.

And it’s about how that fire never goes out. It only grows wiser.

—Tashena