“At university I saw this document that was stapled on a tree. It said they were looking for volunteers to work in refugee camps in South-East Asia. And I thought: absolutely! That totally calls me. And then I read: deadline tomorrow. I went straight to the library to prepare myself for the interview, because I knew so little. I got Indochina confused with Indonesia – they must have laughed themselves sick. But apparently my enthusiasm showed through, because they sent me to the Philippines and then to Thailand. Working in refugee camps, I felt I was not strong enough. At least not for that level of human misery. Being surrounded by thousands of people who carry with them these stories of intense suffering, there comes a moment where you can’t take it anymore. So I got into the environment, working on sustainability for companies and as an external consultant. It was through the WE program that I got back into human rights. What keeps pulling me? I cannot bear injustice. I cannot bear suffering. That’s hard-wired in me. So I end up having to work constantly, to feel like I’m doing something to improve that. Because otherwise I fall into despair. I have a desire to make sense of things together. Knowledge does not reside in the individual, it resides in the collective. We have teams now who really understand how to bring about meaningful change. It feels like a verification of what I believed in when we started. None of us expects to ‘be there’. None of us thinks there will come a moment when this program somehow has arrived. We understand and want it to be something that is perpetually evolving and can evolve in a healthy way, on its own.”

“I grew up in Shenzhen, near Hong Kong. What was a small village in those days is now China’s biggest city: it has 66 million inhabitants. Throughout my childhood I was surrounded by an ever-growing number of factories and their migrant workers. I didn’t have a clue though about their lives or working conditions. My older cousins, who started working for foreign investors in those days, formed my first impression of ‘workers’: bright, young people with a high income, who were very modern and dressed well. It was not until I started at my first job at a local NGO that I came in contact with the real ‘workers’. For my research on labour relationship topics I interviewed managers and migrant workers in factories. Most of the workers I met were young – around twenty – and I noticed they were sad, tired and not enjoying their lives. Day in, day out, they had to work long hours. They didn’t see their parents anymore and it was hardly possible for them to have a social life, since they only had a couple of hours of spare time each month. Their managers and co-workers were the only people they saw on a regular basis. They told me they sometimes felt like machines. I became very sad doing this kind of work because I felt so powerless to do something about their situation. I started looking for a job where I could have more impact on the supply chain. My next job in CSR gave me more influence on production processes, but I did not have contact with the workers. It was not until WE that I found the right balance between being in touch with workers and being able to bring about change.”

“My mother says I was delivered at birth with a small note, saying: she will try to do good things, don’t get in her way. The whole idea that where you are born more or less determines the rest of you life, is horrifyingly unfair to me. Since trading places is not an option, the least I can do is spend my time in a good way. If you have to work for a living, it better be something meaningful. I don’t think small. I want to work on important things with as many people in as many places as possible. If you can work towards change with two people, you can also do that with twenty. And if you can do it with twenty, you might as well do it with two hundred, two thousand or whatever it takes to change this industry. The WE program has changed me in a million different ways. Working with people from so many countries, from different cultures, with different backgrounds, has given me some of the biggest life lessons a person may ever get. I’m allowed to do this work and not once in a while, but every day. WE gives me the opportunity to implement everything I learn – from colleagues, from our facilitators, from the people I meet in factories - to get a little closer to good working conditions. I’m always focused on the bigger picture, on the possible next step, to stay ahead of where we’re now or where we’re moving to. People often think I do this work because I want to change things over there, but that’s not what I do. I work there because I want to change things here. Our Western European societies are built on making money off of the back of other people’s suffering. We can only truly change things if we are willing to see the consequences of our actions here.”

“I love being a facilitator, but I’ve grown tired of living in the city. Apart from working, what is there to do? The lifestyle is too fast for me. I’ve come to realise I need time to enjoy simple things, I need space for reflection. After I left WE, I met some friends who asked me to join them and start a farm. I moved to the mountains with them, we bought land together and I’ve made my first steps in becoming a farmer. At the moment I lead two lives. I work at the farm for one month and then I have to move to the city again to work for one month to earn money. I cannot make a living with farming yet. I see a lot of young people moving to the countryside though. They are inspired to farm in a new way, by respecting nature and protecting the land. This lifestyle makes me feel connected with myself, with the people I work with and with the food I eat. Working the land, I see a lot of similarities with WE. We’ve built a community of learning here, sharing knowledge with each other. When farming friends come over, we can ask them about the coffee trees they are growing and their experience with different crops. People are not rushed here. Farming requires a lot of patience. You have to work with nature and with what is there. As an organic farmer you cannot push things to go faster. You prepare the space and create the conditions for things to grow. That also reminds me of my work in WE. There is a lot of space and a lot of patience for change to happen. Within the WE community, I have learned to design, create, take ownership and be responsible together. This has changed me deeply. When I work with people now, with my neighbours, with the people in the farming community, I don’t give people tasks or tell them what to do. This work is also about creating a community and building ownership.”

“After several high-flying, stressful jobs it dawned on me I was trying to achieve something that I didn't really want. I had worked for international companies in Europe and Asia until my early forties and I had to conclude I didn't like to be at C-level. It comes with a cost. You need to step over others. You need to break hearts for the sake of the business. I realised people come first to me. Addressing their needs and helping them to have their voices heard motivated me much more than the business itself or the financial benefits. I’ve always been a people’s person. My energy blossoms when I communicate on a personal level. I recognized more and more that I wanted to do something that would touch lives. With that in mind I quit my well-paid job and a new version of myself started to emerge. Tango was part of my journey. I’ve been a passionate dancer throughout my life, but I found tango to be transformational. It has to do with dialogue, communication, trust, and empathy. You have to read and follow the energy and the intentions of the person who is close to you. A friend of mine from tango circles happened to be a WE facilitator. When Ege told me about her work, that it was about human rights and betterment of working conditions, my heart started to pound. ‘If there’s an opening at some point, please consider me,’ I told her. You know what they say about fate: that when you are ready, opportunity knocks at your door. There’s a saying that luck smiles at those who are well prepared. I think I was mentally and heartfully prepared for this work. Our last round of Factory Visits confirmed to me that WE is where I belong. We asked participants to design posters emphasizing ‘no tolerance to harassment’. Later that day, their Poster Parade through the factory was welcomed with applause and praise. For me, that shows that even the most difficult change is possible if there is a real intention behind it. One intervention can be enough to plant the seeds of hope.”

“Doing a training on Human Systems Dynamics with Glenda Eoyang reminded me of the first time I went scuba diving: that amazing feeling where you think you know the world and then discover a whole new one. Trained as a journalist, inquiry has always been a guiding principle in my work. There is a great value in ‘not knowing’. Knowledge is important and empowering, sure, but it can also become an obstacle that prevents you from asking, from listening and from staying open. I’m pretty good at ‘being there’, to see and sense what’s really happening. Collective learning has become part of the DNA of WE. We know what works today, may not work tomorrow. We’ve seen that happening with Covid. The assumption that you can stick to one plan, one roadmap, is an illusion. That explains our eagerness to probe and work with small adaptive actions. This program deserves the best we can give. Not in terms of solutions we can come up with, but in possibilities we help disclose. I know I can be disruptive and have this tendency to turn things upside down.
Part of that has to do with my creative, ever wandering mind – I really think that everything is possible. But it also comes from the fact that I will always challenge hierarchy. I believe in the power of diversity, and I’m convinced that everyone in the room can be of value. I’m much more centred and relaxed these days. My career has been a string of new jobs and new projects I embarked on with great enthusiasm. And now I feel this is exactly where I’m supposed to be. I know what I’m good at and I have a lot to offer to bring out the best in people and give them wings.”

“We used to have a working class in China with decent payment and dignity, working for state companies. But these days, most workers are migrant workers with a very low sense of self identity and very low wages. Managers don’t respect them. They don’t care about labour relations; they’re focused on increasing production. In fact, many of them would prefer robots, because robots never complain. Working with managers and workers for more than twenty years has taught me how important communication is. Distance and indifference cause misunderstanding. Dialogue, on the other hand, allows people to talk to each other, ask questions and learn. Gradually they can reach understanding and consensus. When I started my first round of Factory Visits, I thought I would have a hard time with the workers' situation and their lack of voice. I was surprised to learn that these very small factories with traditional production methods did not lay off employees during the pandemic and paid them a basic salary even during the shutdown. Although this is required by law, there are not many factories in China that actually do this. I also noticed these small factories offer more humane circumstances. Workers can chat while they work and they have time to take turns between jobs to rest, drink water, or even eat something. Like in other factories, however, there is no mechanism for direct communication between workers and management. The bosses would rather give their employees a bonus at the end of the year than mention the matter of collective bargaining - which often costs less - because collective bargaining means sitting at the same table and negotiating on an equal footing. The vast majority of factory owners is psychologically unable to accept that. I still have a lot to learn and experience, and there is still a long way to go, but there is definitely hope. The knowledge and understanding of the workers are strong and some of them are bold enough to speak up if they are given the opportunity.”

“I got married while I was doing my bachelor’s; it was an arranged marriage. It turned out to be an unhappy marriage as well. I felt totally trapped. It took me a couple of years to find the courage to escape. We had a daughter by then and I kept thinking: I may be able to tolerate this, but I don’t want this life for her. Although my family supported me, they made it clear they were not happy with my decision. I think my fascination with human rights started in that period. By and by I came to understand the concept of rights. There are a lot of rights that I’m entitled to, just by being human. The right to choose for myself, the right to express myself, the right to have an occupation… I found a job and since I’m good at writing, I received an offer from an NGO for a human rights training in South-Korea. I stood first at the exam and then a university offered me a scholarship for a master’s in human rights. The past years I’ve worked with the LGBTQ-community in Bangladesh, with victims of domestic violence and with migrant workers. All these projects made me feel frustrated. I was interviewing people about their daily suffering, reported to my project manager and didn’t have a clue what was done with the information. Were they making action plans? Was there any project to combat this situation? There was no follow-up, which meant I couldn’t give the people I worked with the courage to raise their voice. When I worked with domestic violence victims, I always had separate sessions with the women and sometimes with their husbands or their family. But I never had them all together in one session to let them talk and build a bridge, like we do in WE. That’s the big difference. With WE, for the first time, I feel that something is actually happening because there is dialogue with all involved.”