“Build without broadcasting.” That phrase has been echoing in my mind ever since a recent conversation with Dr. Stephanie Toliver (shared with permission). She said many powerful things, but this idea stuck with me. It inspired this reflection and the questions I’m continuing to ask about how we build, protect, and sustain transformative work. In the wake of recent conversations about worth, recognition, and invisible labor, this phrase keeps resurfacing, not because secrecy is always virtuous, but because sometimes, the most meaningful work happens quietly. In whispered conversations, handwritten notes, and anonymous hands. And sometimes, that’s the only way it can happen safely. So what does it mean to build systems, coalitions, and futures— without announcing every move? It means thinking differently about time, trust, credit, and care. It means valuing discretion alongside visibility. And it means learning from those who’ve done it before.

Underground Doesn’t Mean Powerless

History gives us plenty of blueprints. The Underground Railroad functioned not by broadcasting routes, but by building trust networks—community by community, whisper by whisper. Resistance cells in WWII Europe built clandestine networks under threat of death, protecting identities and plans while slowly constructing infrastructure for survival and liberation. Even the U.S. Civil Rights Movement, often remembered for its public demonstrations, was built on years of quiet, strategic organizing. Leaders like Ella Baker and Septima Clark emphasized grassroots empowerment, not just public protest. Baker believed in cultivating local leadership and community capacity, which she called “strong people don’t need strong leaders.” Under her influence, groups like SNCC (the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee) invested in voter registration drives, citizen education programs, and deep relationship-building in rural Southern communities, often facing extreme violence and repression in the process. Septima Clark’s citizenship schools taught reading, writing, and civic knowledge, not just for literacy tests, but for liberation. This slow, steady work didn’t make headlines, but it laid the foundation for sit-ins, bus boycotts, and ultimately landmark legislation like the Voting Rights Act of 1965. These weren’t side projects. They were the core infrastructure of the movement. More recently, workers organizing at Amazon didn’t start with protests. They started with conversations. Relationships. Trust. Across these examples, the lesson is clear: what’s hidden isn’t always less powerful. Sometimes, it’s more protected. More resilient. More radical in its potential.

Theoretical Frameworks: Gramsci, Security Culture, and Network Power

If we’re looking for models, theory can help us understand why this approach works.

  • Antonio Gramsci talked about the “war of position.” The slow, strategic building of counter-power within civil society. You don’t storm the gates until you’ve built the village behind them.
  • Security culture reminds us that movements facing surveillance or suppression need internal discipline. This isn’t about fear, it’s about design. It’s about knowing what to share, when, and with whom. We’re currently building this background knowledge in our digital resilience series of posts.
  • Network organizing theory emphasizes building dense webs of relationships before going public. You don’t launch a campaign by posting a flyer. You start by listening. Patiently, repeatedly, relationally.

These aren’t romantic ideals. They’re survival strategies. And increasingly, they’re becoming necessary in spaces where academic, political, or institutional power creates pressure to perform, loudly, visibly, and at risk.

Why It Matters Now

In our work, especially in education, literacy, and digital equity, we’re not just publishing papers. We’re organizing people. We’re building alternatives. And sometimes, we’re doing it in places where too much visibility too soon could risk funding, reputations, or relationships. That doesn’t mean we don’t want to share. It means we want to share on our terms. Some folks are early-career and need to be cautious. Some work across multiple institutions and can’t always take public positions. Some are community members whose power lies in being connected, not broadcast. We need models that protect as well as promote. That allows for anonymity, pseudonymity, and collective credit. That respects invisible labor as strategic, not secondary.

Build Quiet. Build Well. Build Together.

This post is part of a broader exploration. In our first piece, we asked: What is the worth of our work? This one asks: What kinds of systems and strategies let us build that worth sustainably even when we can’t (or shouldn’t) go public just yet? Coming up next, we’ll explore:

  • How movements are formalizing collective credit and flexible attribution
  • What a “contract-based” model of contribution and care might look like for this Initiative and beyond

Until then, here’s a provocation: 🟡 What would you build if you didn’t have to broadcast it? 🟢 What systems would let you contribute without compromising yourself? Let’s keep building—carefully, deliberately, and together. Photo by Charlie Deets on Unsplash