Organizing as If Social Relations Matter: Cindy Milstein, SEAT, and Youth Leadership in Texas
by
Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.
July 3, 2026
Cindy Milstein’s essay, “Organizing Social Spaces as If Social Relations Matter,” deserves to become a classic. It is a must-read because it gives language to something I have been privileged to witness firsthand: young people organizing not only for change, but through relationships of care, trust, joy, and shared responsibility—especially within Students Engaged in Advancing Texas, or SEAT, as well as in LULAC and other community-based youth spaces where I work.
Milstein’s central insight is deceptively simple and deeply profound:
Movements cannot be built only around strategy, demands, protest, or opposition. They must also cultivate new social relations—new ways of being with one another—if they are to prefigure the more democratic and caring world they seek.
I, in fact, first learned of Milstein's essay from youth in SEAT.
She describes resistance, rebellion, and revolution as incomplete without a fourth “R”: reorganization. By this she means not simply reorganizing institutions, but reorganizing how people relate to one another.
Without that relational transformation, movements risk reproducing the very hierarchies, exclusions, and harms they oppose. This is one of the essay’s most important contributions: it reminds us that social justice work is not only about what we are against, but also about how we practice what we are for. It is as much or more about beingness as about doingness—who we are and how we show up in our social movements.
This is precisely what I see in SEAT’s leadership. These young people are not simply organizing around issues that matter to them; they are building a culture of care, trust, shared responsibility, and collective courage. Their work is strategic, yes. It is political, yes. But it is also deeply relational. They listen to one another. They make room for vulnerability. They show up for each other. They understand that leadership is not domination, performance, or individual charisma, but a shared practice of building capacity, confidence, and belonging. It's about fun and enjoying the process.
Milstein’s essay helps us see why this matters so much. She cautions that movements often fail not only because of external repression, but because we fail each other. We carry into our organizing spaces the wounds and habits of the very society we are trying to transform—individualism, hierarchy, competition, shame, exclusion, and the temptation to retreat when conflict arises.
Milstein asks us instead to, in effect, “fail well,” by making "better mistakes" and to treat these and the discomfort that comes along with them not as reasons to abandon one another, but as opportunities to grow in honesty, humility, compassion, and repair. These are tall orders, no doubt, but they are achievable when we commit to practicing them together.
That lesson is especially important for youth organizing. Young people are often expected to perform courage in public while receiving too little care behind the scenes. They are asked to testify, march, mobilize, speak truth to power, and defend democracy, all while coming of age in a world marked by political hostility, ecological crisis, racial injustice, economic precarity, and attacks on education itself. SEAT’s work matters not only because of the policies it contests, but because of the human and democratic relationships it nurtures along the way.
In this regard, SEAT embodies Milstein’s thesis. Its leadership practices suggest that organizing is not merely about occupying public space, but about transforming social space. It is about creating conditions where young people feel seen, heard, trusted, and capable of acting together. It is about learning how to disagree without dehumanizing, how to lead without dominating, how to struggle without losing tenderness, and how to build power without sacrificing care.
For those of us in education, this is a profound lesson. Democracy is not learned only through textbooks, civics lessons, or formal institutions. It is learned in the lived experience of collective work. It is learned when young people discover that their voices matter, that others have their backs, and that public life can be organized around dignity, mutuality, and shared purpose rather than fear or one-upmanship. SEAT’s leadership offers a glimpse of this kind of democratic formation in action.
Milstein gives us language for recognizing what is easy to overlook: the greeting, the check-in, the shared meal, the patient conversation, the willingness to stay present through discomfort, the refusal to reduce one another to mistakes, and the commitment to keep building together. These are not soft additions to the “real” work of organizing. They are the work. They are the ethical infrastructure that makes sustained movement possible.
In a Texas political climate where young people are too often treated as problems to be managed rather than democratic actors to be respected, SEAT offers a different vision. Its members remind us that youth leadership is not future leadership. It is leadership now. And when that leadership is grounded in care, courage, and collective responsibility, it does more than resist the present. It rehearses a freer and more humane future.
That is why Milstein’s essay matters to me. It helps me name what I see in SEAT and other youth organizing: young people organizing as if social relations matter—because they do. We have much to learn from them.
Reference
Milstein, C. (2014, June 14). Organizing social spaces as if social relations matter. Outside the Circle. Originally published in shorter form in ROAR Magazine. https://cbmilstein.wordpress.com/2014/06/14/organizing-social-spaces-as-if-social-relations-matter/
Organizing Social Spaces as If Social Relations Matter
by Cindy Milstein | June 14, 2014 | Outside the Circle
This essay was originally published, as a shorter version, in ROAR Magazine, “an online journal of the radical imagination providing grassroots perspectives from the front-lines of the global struggle for real democracy,” at http://roarmag.org/2014/06/milstein-social-spaces-relations/.
The Four Rs
Throughout the history of resistance, rebellion, and revolution—the three Rs that should be taught alongside the traditional ones of reading, ’riting, and ’rithmetic—there has always been a fourth R, consciously or not: reorganization. Such reorganization has sought to establish not simply new social structures but also, critically, new social relations.
That has not always ended well. In fact, it has frequently ended badly, with different forms of social organization, to be sure, but ones that ultimately—or too quickly—entailed new forms of domination and terror. If we humans have learned anything from these moments, it’s that the reconstitution of people up to the challenge of enacting goodness in the good society that they are trying to create takes time and practice. Moreover, the time and practices needed far exceed the duration and acts of toppling a king, despot, or dictator, overthrowing colonial, military, or statist rule, or overcoming internecine struggles among radicals.
Various “horizontal” or “from below” experiments, as they’ve been called, have struggled openly during the past two decades in particular with this problematic. They’ve humbly aspired to focus on the social relations side of the puzzle versus—and also within—those exhilarating, necessary instances of popular uprisings.
Some appear to have done it better than others, such as the Zapatistas (recently celebrating twenty years since their first public entrance on the world stage) and Brazilian Landless Workers’ Movement (which became a national movement thirty years ago), at least according to the stories told by some of those born into these autonomous communities, and thus who’ve never known another world and have been socialized by other ways of attempting to live together.
Most of the shorter-lived recent occupations of squares, plazas, and parks, too, quickly set about this task, reveling—at least initially—in the transformed ways people began relating to each other within the myriad of self-organized structures intended to meet everyone’s needs as well as desires.
The same could easily be said of the power of contemporary social movements such as the massive, relatively long-lasting student strike in Quebec in 2012. In that case, months of blockades and nightly illegal street demonstrations, coupled with a plethora of assemblies and collective culture-making, wove a magical fabric of hitherto-unimaginable social interactions across generations and at least two languages.
Here in the United States, the Occupy uprising, in its heady beginnings, created spaces where social-media-isolated people could suddenly “find each other” and (re)discover human(e) connections (see, relatedly, my essay “Occupy Anarchism,” https://cbmilstein.wordpress.com/2014/03/15/occupy-anarchism-musings-on-prehistories-present-imperfects-future-imperfects/). But also here in the United States, where looking through the lens of “I” first and then “we” down the road is so deeply ingrained in us, it too quickly became clear that the ties that bound us Occupiers were spider-web fragile. We torn each other apart in so many varied ways, along so many lines of hurt already scribed into our bodies by white supremacy, heteronormativity, patriarchy, ableism, settler colonialism, classism, overdetermined identity politics, and a long lineage of other violences.
The conundrum of remaking ourselves as we attempt to remake society appears to stymie us here so much faster than in places with greater vestiges of communal lifeways.
It also erects an extra-high hurdle for US social struggles and movements: Can we rise above the learned behaviors inculcated by the mythical origin story and its related American dream of the lone individual making it against all odds, pulling themselves up by their own bootstraps, as entrepreneurial pioneer? Can we surmount the way we tend to instrumentalize each other, “valuing” other people as mere things in relation to our cost-benefit analysis and accountability ledger sheet of strategic organizing and movement needs—relations that have been naturalized in us, made subtle and almost invisible, by capitalism? Can we avoid brushing off the ways that we lack empathy for each other, as ourselves “products” of this damaging society too, with uncompassionate phrases such as “We need to focus on the real enemy”?
It’s too easy to blame the police or state repression alone for why our projects, much less movements, fail. They fail us, and we fail them.
We’ll always fail in ways, of course. But if we don’t allow others—and ourselves—to make mistakes; if we see mishaps as aberrations or, worse, a condemnation of the whole of someone’s being; if we believe that failure and success are separate, stable moments; and if we think that being human, being imperfect, is in itself wrong, then we’ve already lost. We’re already lost.
There are many forces that can be blamed for making most of us, and indeed most of humanity, feel lost at this time in history, from the new layers of alienation heaped on us by high-tech innovations to the palpable sense of “no future” that military-industrial ecological devastation instills. This list, like all the painful -isms, unfurls too far. We don’t just feel lost, though. More to the point, we are tangibly experiencing much loss, and at faster and faster rates, ranging from communities to climates, from homes to loved ones.
This is all the more reason that it’s imperative to rediscover each other, yet in the fullness and complexity of our imperfections, and recognize that such imperfection will be inherent in the revolutionary transformation of present-day society—made up not merely of hierarchical institutions and systemic exploitation but also damaged social relations. It is, then, our perspective on failure that matters.
To conjure up the insight of a teacher-artist friend, Arthur, during a history-oriented study group recently, the point of revolutions is not to achieve some permanently perfect world, or a utopia in the most caricatured of definitions. It is to find ourselves having different, less horrendous conflicts—say, why the delegation of tasks related to community health care isn’t working in an autonomous, directly democratic region as opposed to when and where to go to war as a nation-state. It is to be better equipped to walk toward and through those conflicts in increasingly egalitarian, compassionate ways.
In short, it’s about making better mistakes, and utilizing our better failures as moments of transformation in pursuit of an ever-freer society, filled with ever more dignity and freedom, among other lovely practices.
Another teacher-artist friend, Carla, observed that her goal is, in fact, to have projects fail. That is, she remains open to the likelihood of failure and hence how we might do that well. Her clear-eyed notion grasps the generative attributes of missing the intended mark. Carla’s failures-in-action are amazing to behold, drawing out the best in people, for themselves and toward others. She creates spaces of collaborative empowerment with others, without knowing what will emerge, and strives to curate various contexts in which people can discover the potential of those spaces and themselves together.
