There Is Room for All of Us. But Are We Really Making Room?

Bear with me. This one is a little longer than most, as I find myself reflecting on my journey in water safety.

I am a deeply empathetic person. Always have been. Perhaps that’s why I find so much comfort and purpose in this work. Albeit, it’s darn hard sometimes. And by sometimes, I mean more often than I’d like to admit!

But I care. Deeply. And perhaps that’s what keeps me going.

I am profoundly grateful that I cannot remember a time in my life when I didn’t know how to swim.

When I look at photographs of myself as a young child, happily playing in the water, I see something I didn’t fully appreciate then: privilege.

Not privilege in the traditional sense, but the quiet privilege of having access to something that would become such an important part of my life.

I never had to wonder whether I belonged in the water. I never had to overcome the fear of entering it for the first time as an adult. I never questioned whether learning to swim was something available to me.

It simply was.

And I know that for millions of people around the world, that has never been their reality.

What began as a summer lifeguarding job became a lifelong connection to water safety, drowning prevention, education and community development. That journey has taken me through academia, the nonprofit sector, international development and, today, the extraordinary privilege of working alongside people from different countries, cultures and communities through Swim Global Project.

I have met remarkable people along the way. People who have dedicated decades to saving lives. People who are quietly transforming their communities with limited resources and little recognition. Young people who bring extraordinary passion and ideas to a field that desperately needs both.

And increasingly, I find myself thinking about something that has very little to do with swimming itself.

What are we actually building, and who are we building it for?

Because one thing is certain.

There will come a time when none of us will be here.

Our titles will disappear. Our positions will be filled by someone else. The organisations we helped build may evolve, merge or cease to exist in the form we know today.

And the communities we claim to serve will still need the work to continue.

So I have been asking myself a question.

Are we building something that can outlive us, or are we building something that still needs us at the centre?

We talk about collaboration. But are we truly collaborating?

Collaboration may be one of the most frequently used words in our sector.

We collaborate. We partner. We convene. We engage stakeholders. We establish working groups, advisory committees, task forces and networks.

And I believe much of this work is sincere and valuable.

But I also wonder whether we have become so comfortable using the language of collaboration that we sometimes forget to examine what it actually requires.

Are we willing to share an idea before it is fully developed?

Are we comfortable celebrating someone else’s success when our organisation had nothing to do with it?

Can we support an initiative without needing our logo on the announcement?

Can we recommend another organisation because it is better positioned to deliver the work?

And perhaps most importantly, can we make room for someone else to lead, even when we know we could lead ourselves?

These are not easy questions.

I include myself in them.

When you have invested years of your life in a cause, when you have worked to build relationships, credibility and momentum, it is natural to feel protective of what you have created.

There is pride in that work. There should be.

But at what point does healthy pride become ownership? At what point does commitment become control?

And when does our desire to protect what we have built begin to limit what others might contribute?

I don’t believe most people enter water safety because they are seeking recognition. I believe they enter because they care.

But we are human. Ego has a way of finding its place, even in work rooted in service.

Perhaps genuine collaboration begins when we become willing to recognise that in ourselves.

Are we leading with purpose, or with ego?

I have been fortunate to work alongside experienced leaders whose generosity, knowledge and commitment have shaped my own thinking.

I have also learned that leadership is not always about having the answer.

Sometimes it is about recognising that someone else has a better one.

And sometimes the greatest contribution we can make is to step aside long enough for that person to be heard.

Yet we operate in environments where recognition matters. Funding matters. Visibility matters. Institutional credibility matters.

Organisations need resources to survive, and individuals need to establish themselves professionally. These realities cannot simply be dismissed.

But I wonder whether, somewhere along the way, we have begun to confuse institutional success with collective progress.

If our organisation grows, does that necessarily mean the field has advanced?

If we are invited to speak at another international conference, does that mean more children are learning to swim?

If we publish another framework, form another coalition or announce another partnership, have we changed what happens in communities?

Sometimes, absolutely.

But not automatically.

I believe we must be willing to ask what has actually changed for the people we say we serve.

And whether the way we lead is helping that change happen faster, more equitably and more sustainably.

It is possible to be deeply committed to a cause and still become attached to our own place within it.

Recognising that possibility is not an accusation.

It is an invitation to lead more consciously.

The courage to begin, and the humility to keep learning

I consider it an extraordinary privilege to have founded and launched Swim Global Project.

When I began this journey as a social entrepreneur, I didn’t have a perfect plan. I didn’t have every answer, a carefully mapped-out path or absolute certainty about how it would all unfold.

What I had was passion. A deep belief that I could make something happen. A willingness to take a chance.

And yes, if I’m being completely candid, perhaps a little ego too.

I think we need to be honest about that.

There is a certain amount of confidence, ambition and even stubbornness required to build something from an idea. You have to believe in what you’re doing, sometimes long before anyone else does. You have to be willing to put yourself out there, make decisions without knowing exactly how things will turn out, and keep going when the path becomes uncertain.

I don’t think ego is necessarily the enemy of good leadership.

But I do think we need to recognise when the confidence that helped us begin starts getting in the way of our ability to listen, learn and make room for others.

That distinction matters to me.

I am still learning. Still figuring things out. Still discovering what Swim Global Project can become and how I can be most useful in helping it grow.

Some days I feel confident in the direction we are taking. Other days I find myself questioning an approach, reconsidering an assumption or recognising that someone else sees something I have missed.

And I think that’s healthy.

Our world is changing at an extraordinary pace. Technology is transforming how we connect and share knowledge. Communities are facing new pressures. Expectations of leadership are evolving. The next generation is asking different questions, and rightly so.

I don’t believe we can respond to a changing world by holding tightly to yesterday’s answers.

But amid all this change, there is something I have come to believe remains remarkably constant.

The human desire to make a difference.

I see it in the people who join Swim Global Project. I see it in the educators, lifeguards, researchers, community advocates and volunteers who continue showing up, often without recognition or significant resources.

I see it in people who may disagree about methods but share a genuine commitment to making their communities safer.

They care.

And that, to me, is where the real opportunity lies.

Not in building an organisation around one person’s vision forever, but in creating something that allows many people’s commitment, experience and ideas to come together.

I may have had the passion and belief to start Swim Global Project. But its future should never depend on my having all the answers.

In fact, I hope it doesn’t.

I want to be proud of what I started, but even prouder of what others are able to build from it.

Because founding something is one kind of leadership.

Learning to share it, allowing it to evolve and trusting others to take it further may be an even greater one.

The next generation does not need our permission to have a voice

We speak often about engaging the next generation.

We invite young professionals to panels. We create youth committees. We encourage emerging leaders to participate in international conversations.

These are positive developments, and I do see a shift happening.

There is more recognition of the importance of diverse perspectives, lived experience and community-led solutions. More young professionals are speaking up. More people from traditionally underrepresented communities are finding ways to contribute.

That matters.

But I keep coming back to a question.

Are we giving the next generation a seat at the table, or are we giving them a voice in what happens around it?

There is a difference.

An invitation to speak is not the same as an opportunity to influence.

Listening to a young person is not the same as trusting them with responsibility.

And celebrating emerging leadership is not the same as sharing the authority, resources and relationships that make leadership possible.

I sometimes wonder whether we are comfortable welcoming younger voices as long as they agree with the direction we have already chosen.

What happens when they challenge us?

What happens when they question the effectiveness of a programme we have spent years developing?

What happens when they suggest that the systems we have built, however well-intentioned, may not work for the communities they are supposed to serve?

Can they disagree with us and still belong?

For me, that may be one of the most important measures of genuine inclusion.

The next generation will not think exactly as we do. Nor should they.

They are navigating a different world. They communicate differently, understand technology differently and may recognise barriers we have grown accustomed to accepting.

Our experience matters enormously. But experience should be something we share, not something we use to determine whose perspective carries the most weight.

We should be preparing people to surpass us.

Not simply to replace us.

Leadership is already happening in places we rarely look

When I speak about the next generation, I am not referring only to age.

I am thinking about the extraordinary people whose leadership exists outside the traditional structures of influence.

The swimming instructor who finds a way to reach children who have never entered a pool.

The lifeguard who understands why young people in their community are not pursuing aquatic careers.

The parent who knows exactly why a well-funded programme is failing to reach the families it was designed to serve.

The community advocate who is building water safety awareness without an international platform, a professional title or an institutional budget.

Many of these individuals are not waiting to become leaders.

They are already leading.

The question is whether those of us with established networks, resources and influence are willing to recognise them as such.

And whether we are prepared to open doors.

Not simply invite them into our existing structures, but allow their perspectives to influence what those structures become.

I have always believed that meaningful change must be rooted in communities.

Yet I sometimes wonder how often we truly begin by asking communities what they need, rather than presenting them with what we have already decided to deliver.

Expertise is important. Research is essential. Standards, policies and evidence-based approaches matter.

But so does humility.

We cannot assume that because we understand a problem at the international or institutional level, we automatically understand how it is experienced in every community.

The people closest to the challenges must have a meaningful role in shaping the solutions.

That requires more than consultation.

It requires trust.

There is room for all of us

One of the reasons I founded Swim Global Project was my belief that meaningful progress in drowning prevention requires us to look beyond individual organisations and traditional boundaries.

No single organisation owns water safety.

No individual owns drowning prevention.

And no one approach, however successful, can meet the needs of every community around the world.

There is room for researchers and practitioners. For established institutions and grassroots organisations. For government leaders, educators, lifeguards, parents, advocates and young people.

There is room for organisations with decades of experience and for someone beginning with a simple idea and the courage to act on it.

We do not need to agree on everything.

We do not need to work on every initiative together.

And we certainly do not need to be involved in every success.

Someone else’s contribution does not diminish our own.

I wish we spoke about that more often.

Because I believe the strength of our field should be measured not only by the achievements of individual organisations, but by the collective capacity we create.

Are we making it easier for others to succeed?

Are we sharing information that could accelerate progress?

Are we connecting people who would benefit from knowing one another?

Are we genuinely pleased when another organisation achieves something meaningful, even if we are not involved?

Or do we sometimes see collaboration as valuable only when it also advances our own visibility?

I ask these questions because I believe we can do better.

And because I see enough generosity, creativity and commitment across this field to believe that we are capable of doing so.

What happens when we are no longer here?

This is the question I find myself returning to most often.

Perhaps it comes with experience. Perhaps it comes from having spent enough years in this field to understand how much effort it takes to create change, and how quickly momentum can be lost.

But I have become increasingly interested in legacy.

Not legacy in the sense of having my name attached to something.

Quite the opposite.

I wonder what will remain useful when the people who established our organisations, programmes and networks are no longer there to guide them.

Will the relationships continue?

Will knowledge be shared freely?

Will the next generation have the confidence, opportunity and resources to take the work further?

Or will too much depend on the personalities, reputations and individual influence of those currently holding leadership positions?

There is something deeply uncomfortable about acknowledging that the work must eventually continue without us.

But it is also liberating.

Because if our purpose is truly to prevent drowning, improve access to swimming education and create safer communities, then the greatest measure of our success may be what others are able to accomplish long after we have stepped away.

A meaningful legacy is not measured by how long people remember our names. It is measured by how much good continues when our names are no longer part of the conversation.

That requires us to invest in people, not only programmes.

To share relationships, not only information.

To create opportunities for others to make decisions, take risks, learn from mistakes and build the confidence that comes through experience.

It requires us to accept that the next generation may take what we began and make it something entirely different.

Perhaps something better.

Shouldn’t that be the goal?

I see a shift. But is it enough?

I want to acknowledge that our field is changing.

I see more openness to community voices. More willingness to discuss equity, access and inclusion. More recognition that drowning prevention cannot be approached through a single discipline or institution.

I see committed leaders making genuine efforts to mentor others, share resources and create opportunities.

And through Swim Global Project, I have the privilege of witnessing people across the world connecting because of a shared belief that communities deserve to be safer around water.

That gives me hope.

But I also wonder whether we are moving quickly enough.

Whether our conversations about collaboration are being matched by changes in how we distribute influence.

Whether the young people we welcome today will have real opportunities to shape decisions tomorrow.

Whether the communities we consult will also be trusted to lead.

And whether those of us who currently have a platform are doing enough to make sure others will have one too.

These are questions I am asking of myself as much as anyone else.

I do not have all the answers.

I am still learning how to build something that reflects the values I believe in, including the willingness to question how we do things.

But I know that I want Swim Global Project to be a place where people feel that their contribution matters, where knowledge and opportunity are shared, and where success is not defined by who receives the recognition.

I want it to be a place where people can challenge ideas respectfully, bring forward different perspectives and create something meaningful together.

Most importantly, I want the work to grow beyond any one person, including me.

What will we choose to leave behind?

When I return to those photographs of myself as a young child in the water, I think about how different my life might have been if I had never been given the opportunity to learn to swim.

I think about the confidence it gave me. The doors it opened. The friendships, experiences and professional journey that followed.

And I think about the children growing up today who deserve those same opportunities.

Some of them will become the lifeguards, educators, researchers, advocates and community leaders of tomorrow.

Some will challenge the assumptions we hold today.

Some will imagine solutions we have not yet considered.

I hope we will welcome that.

Because the work ahead of us is far too important to be constrained by individual ambition, institutional boundaries or the need for recognition.

Those of us fortunate enough to hold positions of influence have an opportunity, and I would argue a responsibility, to think beyond our own tenure.

Not only about what we can accomplish while we are here, but about who will be able to accomplish more because we were.

I hope we leave behind stronger relationships, more accessible knowledge, more confident leaders and communities that are genuinely safer.

I hope we leave behind a field that is less concerned with who gets the credit and more committed to what needs to be done.

And I hope we are brave enough to ask ourselves, while we still have the opportunity to do something about it:

Are we making room for others to lead, or are we simply asking them to join what we have already built?

I believe there is a place for every one of us in this work.

But having room is not quite the same as making room.

And perhaps that is where genuine collaboration begins.

There is room for all of us. The question is whether we are willing to make it.

Nathalie Martin, M.A.
Founder, Swim Global Project
Building WaterSafe Communities™ Worldwide