It’s always poignant to compose our year-end reflection post during this particular stretch of days – when, at least in the Northern Hemisphere, the sun sets early and rises late, and so many of us are winding down before the holidays, seeking a bit of quiet before we head into the new year.
There’s something fitting about this timing. In these shortest days, we’re reminded that darkness is temporary, that the light will steadily return. That even in the deepest quiet, something is preparing to shift.
As we close out 2025, it’s impossible to ignore the pressures this year brought to our field. On one hand, the world is beginning to recognize what we’ve always known: that trust and safety is essential infrastructure to a healthy internet. Governments around the globe are codifying the practices this community has been building for years, making our work not just best practice but legally mandatory. The regulatory landscape remains fragmented – these laws don’t always align with each other, and it’s too early to know if they’ll achieve their aims – but they represent substantial progress toward ensuring that trust and safety is always part of the equation.
On the other hand, we watched so many of the norms and institutions we thought were solid prove to be more fragile than we ever imagined. Business leaders across all sorts of industries, even ours, pulled back from commitments we thought were foundational. In many countries, the political climate has grown increasingly hostile toward professionals committed to fairness and equity. Many of our peers couldn’t travel safely to our events. Economic uncertainty continues to drive layoffs, dismantling teams, scattering colleagues, and reshaping the very structures we rely on to do this work. Many of us have watched our teams shrink or reorg beyond recognition, or have seen people we respect leave the field entirely.
This whiplash is tiring. But we have to keep showing up.
At TrustCon this year, I talked about the story behind TSPA’s logo. It was inspired by birds flying in a V formation. Birds fly like this because it’s more efficient – the bird at the front is doing the hardest work, breaking through wind resistance and creating updrafts that make flight easier for everyone behind them. When that bird gets tired, another bird rotates in to take the lead. Even in rest, they’re all still moving forward. The whole group travels farther together than any single bird could on its own.
And that’s the story of our community. By sticking together, we make the impossible journey possible. When one of us gets tired, we are supported by the rest of the group. Each of us travels with the understanding that we have an essential part to play in making the journey possible for others. No one carries the weight alone.
This year taught me something about the practice of hope: it’s not about believing things will get easier. It’s about deciding who you are in the midst of difficulty. That’s what I see happening in this community. People who could walk away from this work, who could take their skills elsewhere for easier jobs and easier optics, choosing to stay. Choosing to show up. Choosing to believe that protecting people online matters, even when – especially when – that work is treated as optional, even as subversive or undesirable.
So as we close out the year, I hope you give yourself permission to rest. To be present. To recover your footing and your breath for whatever comes next. When it’s your turn to lead again, you’ll feel it. When it’s someone else’s, trust that the flock will carry you forward too.
There is truly no group of people we’d rather be moving through this work with than with our TSPA members. Thank you for everything you’ve endured, built, imagined, and protected this year.
Onwards,
Charlotte Willner
