Navigating Complexity, Upholding Values, and Centering Survivors

This year, March 31 was observed by many as Farmworkers Day honoring the labor movement and the collective effort that has always powered it.

In recent weeks, survivors have come forward with deeply disturbing accounts about Cesar Chavez’s sexual abuse and mistreatment of young women, reported publicly in the New York Times and addressed in a recent statement from survivor and workers’ rights leader Dolores Huerta.

Many in the nonprofit and philanthropy sector are trying to make sense of what this moment means — personally, professionally, and for the communities they serve. As a national consulting firm, we know leaders, board members, funders, and staff across the country are being asked to respond. The truth is that most organizations can’t untangle decades of naming, symbolism, and legacy overnight. But we can communicate with care. We can center survivors. We can share resources. We can avoid causing new harm. And we can be honest that this will take time.

For examples of statements and language from organizations closer to the center of this, please see these posts shared by our clients Hijas del Campo and Justice for Migrant Women.

We must ask ourselves: Who gets left out when we center one person? Do our movements and organizations reflect the social justice and equality we seek to see in the world? What would it look like to name and honor the many people who held communities together, did the organizing, took the risks, and rarely got credit?

Below are our thoughts on what organizations should be considering right now. This isn’t meant to be a perfect statement or a playbook. It’s about how we navigate a moment like this with care, how we keep survivors at the center, how we stay grounded in our values, and how we commit to create organization, systems, and movements free of sexual violence.

What matters right now

It will take time

For many, the name isn’t just in a history book, it’s personal. People grew up with Cesar Chavez as an icon, and his legacy is deeply embedded in culture. It’s on buildings, scholarships, murals, programs, and annual events. In most cases, there is no way to “resolve” that by tomorrow. What’s possible in the near term is communication, correcting celebratory messaging, acknowledging what’s surfaced, and sharing how you’ll approach decisions (including what you’re listening to, who will be involved, and when you expect to share updates).

Have the hard conversations

Moments like this tend to produce silence or private discomfort that never gets named. The work usually involves hard conversations, internally and externally. Internally, it often looks like making space for staff to process and ask questions, getting clear on where the name shows up (programs, events, buildings, messaging), and being honest about constraints and timelines. Externally, it often looks like talking with partners, funders, and community members about what you’re hearing, what you’re considering, and what you’re not ready to decide yet.

Legacy naming isn’t the same as endorsement

Moments like this appropriately drive calls to action for accountability. Abusers and their supporters should be held accountable. That said, many programs and organizations carry the Cesar Chavez name because of the legacy of the movement he helped build, not because they endorse the exposed harm he caused. Backlash can land on the wrong people. It will take time for programs, organizations, and events to disentangle the Chavez name from their own legacies. We’re thinking about the ripple effects on organizations doing essential work whose programs or buildings carry his name because of legacy funding or community recognition at the time.

It’s understandable that donors want to act quickly. But pulling support without context can unintentionally harm the very communities the work is meant to serve. If you’re a funder or donor, consider asking what the organization is doing to respond before making decisions that could reduce services.

Be thoughtful about who gets centered

It’s also worth noticing who gets centered in moments like this. When institutions elevate a single “icon,” it can crowd out the many people who built movements, held communities together, and did the work without recognition or protection. As you choose what to share and who to quote, prioritize elevating survivors themselves, centering their leadership and experiences.

Remembering the collective

This moment is also a hard reminder: when we make one individual the face of a movement, we flatten something that has always been collective. We risk erasing the organizers, caregivers, strategists, and everyday people who carried the work, especially those who were never celebrated or protected. And when we glamorize one person as the symbol, the fallout can feel devastating when the fuller story comes to light.

We must ask ourselves who gets left out when we center one person? Do our movements and organizations reflect the social justice and equality we seek to see in the world? What would it look like to name and honor the many people who held communities together, did the organizing, took the risks, and rarely got credit?

Plan for the unexpected that can follow

Given how visible this is, it can quickly become a bigger conversation. In many ways, it already has, and it may continue to be: about the broader discourse on sexual violence and accountability, about the familiar patterns of shaming and discrediting survivors, about racist narratives that can surface given his ethnicity, and about the ways people try to fold stories like this into electoral politics. It’s important to acknowledge that wider context and plan for it, staying grounded in values rather than reactivity.