When Integrity Collides with Loyalty and Authenticity

Hello Beautiful and Kind Humans!

I am sending this current article with a request for assistance from all of you.

I am struggling with a decision, and I feel I need the wisdom of the group to guide me.

I’ve never experienced this mix of emotions before: doubt, insecurity, sadness, and confusion—all about a decision that, on the surface, should be simple.

Since 2017, I’ve proudly served on the Indiana University Foundation Board of Directors. I’ve given my time, talent, and treasure to a place that shaped the leader and human I am today.

I was mentored onto the Board by two personal heroes—David Jacobs and Michael Shumate. These men didn’t just open doors for LGBTQ+ representation on a historically homogenous board—they showed me how to lead with grace, pride, and integrity.

In my tenure, I’ve served as Committee Chair, Vice-Chair, and a dedicated, engaged board member. I’ve covered every travel expense myself. I’ve contributed to university campaigns. I’ve done the work—and then some.

• I’ve created four scholarship endowments.

• I’ve made direct grants to the Dean of the Hamilton Lugar School.

• I’ve been named LGBTQ+AA Alumnus of the Year and received the IUF President’s Medallion.

• I’ve sat on numerous university-level boards and committees.

But the work I’m most proud of?

I’m a founding member of the Queer Philanthropy Circle (QPC)—created in 2019 at the request of IU leadership. Alongside 11 visionary LGBTQ+ leaders and allies, we built something unprecedented: a powerful force for change.

Since then, we’ve raised over $1 million for LGBTQ+ students, faculty, staff, and alumni across IU campuses. Today, I serve as Chair, leading a passionate, mission-driven Executive Committee that fights every day to make IU safer and more inclusive.

Then came the shift.

When IU’s first female president was appointed four years ago, I was hopeful.

I cheered the milestone.

But within six months, things began to feel different.

Federal and State Politics changed.

Turnover in leadership ensued.

Collaborative leadership gave way to consolidation.

Veteran voices exited.

Diversity eroded.

Transparency faded.

Dialogue turned into top-down directives.

And slowly, something else changed—ME.

What used to energize me began to drain me.

• I felt anxious before meetings.

• Frustrated during them.

• Empty after they ended.

Worse, I started doing something I never had before: calculating the ROI on my volunteer work. That was foreign—and painful.

I have managed Change my entire personal life and professional career, but this change felt more challenging. I am struggling to determine the path forward and how to “Control the Controllables”

Then came the political earthquake of 2024.

Executive orders.

Budget rollbacks.

Board reconfigurations.

Relentless attacks on DEI and trans rights.

Federal funding threats.

Weekly legal briefings with little clarity.

Silence in the face of urgent questions.

Our QPC members grew uneasy. The weight of it all grew heavier.

Let me be clear:
I am a volunteer.
I am a donor.
I am a proud alum.

This week, the Governor of Indiana, using new powers that were included in the State Budget, fired 3 elected members of the Board of Trustees with no gratitude or recognition of their volunteer service. This essentially silences the voices of alumni and donors. He replaced the elected representatives with political appointees who support his agenda. Two of the appointees have expressed outright racists, misogynistic, and homophobic viewpoints. How does they represent the best interest of the entire IU Community??

And I have always believed in showing up. Until now.

So here’s my dilemma:

👉 Do I stay and fight—remain visible, raise my voice, and advocate from within?
👉 Or do I walk away—refusing to legitimize a culture that feels misaligned with my values?

I wish I had a crystal ball.

I wish there were a rising generation of queer leaders ready to fill these seats.

I wish we were getting real answers from leadership.

But I don’t. And we aren’t.

What I do know is this:
I am exhausted.
I am heartbroken.
But I am still standing.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about my father.

In his final chapter, he served as Mayor of Port St. Lucie, Florida. I watched him navigate local politics with patience, conviction, and purpose.

I can almost hear him: “If not you, who?”
But that feels too self-important for this moment.

Because this isn’t about ego. It’s about impact.

He would also recognize the signs of burnout.

The PTSD from toxic power dynamics.

The grief of watching something you love change beyond recognition.

So I ask you for your insights and advice:

Have you ever had to walk away from something you loved to stay true to your values?
Have you ever stayed in the fight because your voice mattered too much to go silent?

If you’ve ever faced a moment like this—torn between leaving and leading—I’d love to hear your story and insights.

📩 Reply to this email.
💬 Post your reflections online.
🫂 Share this message with someone who needs it.

Because sometimes, clarity doesn’t come from solitude.
It comes from community.

With hope, heartbreak, and deep gratitude,
Jim