We’ve Gone Underground: What Resistance Looks Like Inside Institutions

(by Kheoshi Owens)

Alright. So… we’ve gone underground.

And before anybody panics—let me be clear: going underground is not the same thing as giving up.

It’s strategy.

It’s survival.

It’s resistance with a seatbelt on.

Because resistance doesn’t always look loud. It doesn’t always look like a viral post, a perfectly worded Facebook statement, or being on the front line of a march. Sometimes resistance looks like choosing not to perform. Sometimes it looks like using your imagination. Sometimes it looks like being so creative and so rooted that folks can’t even track your next move.

Sometimes, you have to go underground.

I remember having this conversation toward the end of 2024 with my lawyer. We were just talking, and he was joking—half joking, half not—and he said, “What if Trump put a ban on DEI?”

And listen… you know me. I’m a serial optimist. I knew who he was. I knew he was racist. I knew he wasn’t a good guy. But a part of me still believed the worst couldn’t fully happen. That’s the thing about being hopeful—sometimes you hold on to hope so tight that you forget the other part of the saying: hope for the best… and expect the worst.

At the end of 2024 I went to Harvard and took a strategy and execution class. I look back now and I feel like the universe was trying to tell me something—but I wasn’t really listening.

They asked a question that stuck with me:

“If the worst thing that could happen to your business actually happened, what would you do?”

Even though I didn’t believe it would happen, I knew what my answer was.

A ban on DEI would be the worst thing.

It would mean rebranding. It would mean shifting how the work was talked about, funded, protected, and held. It would mean finding different doors to walk through—but still doing the work. Because I’ve never believed the work could stop. Not in my spirit. Not in my bones.

But if I’m being honest, I treated it like a project instead of a real possibility.

I had the tools to prepare.

I just didn’t believe I’d actually need them.

And then… it happened.

And I found myself doing what a lot of us do when reality hits too hard: I think I was waiting for a savior. Waiting for someone to come and fix it. Waiting for the pendulum to swing back quickly. Waiting for things to go “back to normal.”

But the RFPs kept drying up.

The clients weren’t knocking like they used to.

And now we’re in 2026 and it’s clear: this is real.

So last week I had to do something I really didn’t want to do.

I had to adapt to the climate.

Now let me ask you something:

Do you think adapting means I stopped doing the work?

Absolutely not.

Because we do good work.

And I’m not interested in abandoning justice just because the political climate is unstable.

But what I am interested in is learning how to protect the work so it can keep living—especially inside institutions where everything is being scrutinized right now. Sometimes that looks like protecting yourself and your staff quietly. Sometimes it looks like finding new ways to embed justice into your principles, policies, language, and daily practice—without putting a target on your back.

And for others—no judgment here, because there is no one way to do this—resistance looks like refusing to dilute language.

Some folks are saying, “No. These are the people I serve. I don’t care if the money gets taken away.”

And I respect that too.

Truthfully, nobody has all the answers.

We’re all making moves with the information we have, trying to protect what matters, trying not to lose ourselves, trying not to betray our values, trying not to burn out.

But here’s what I do know:

Going underground doesn’t mean you’re surrendering.

It means you’re regrouping.

It means you’re collaborating.

It means you’re going deeper into community.

It means you’re getting quiet enough to hear your own wisdom again.

Strategic invisibility can be power.

Because when you’re not shouting it from the rooftops, they don’t know where you’re coming from.

And I’ll tell you what I’ve been doing lately: I’ve been reaching out. Friends. Colleagues. Family. People I love. People I trust. I’ve been having lunch. I’ve been asking, “What are you going through? What are you seeing? How are you holding up? What are your next five moves?”

Because I believe this is how we win.

This is how we heal. This is how we endure. Not by trying to do it alone. Not by pretending we’re okay. Not by performing resistance for social media while our bodies are falling apart.

We’re going to heal as a nation by collaborating.

By going silent when needed.

By going underground when necessary.

By planning. By strategizing.

And then re-emerging stronger than ever.

Culture work is now a long game.

And honestly?

Maybe it always was.

But now we know it for sure. Never give up...

Yours Truly,

Kheoshi