MoJo Reader,

They—they being my boss and our COO, Jahna Berry—said I shouldn’t write this email. 

But you probably aren’t surprised that MoJo’s staff, like our journalism—and I’d bet many of you, our readers—don’t always let a “shouldn’t” stop them from doing something that feels right. 

For 10 years now, I’ve been responsible for bringing in the online donations that fuel our reporting—working with the team to plan and execute our campaigns, working closely with Monika to connect with you all. 

Last Monday, we kicked off a short, two-week, campaign to raise the $163,000 we need to stay at break-even as the month ends. It’s crunch time, and the stakes feel higher than ever. 

I also had a doctor’s appointment that day. 

And how quickly things can change: I’m typing this just a few hours before I officially begin a medical leave and will be prohibited from working until at least early October. 

It’s nothing too major! A fixable eye issue that I can (kind of) work through for writing something like this, but not much else. And when Marla, our VP of culture and people, says shouldn’t and can’t, you damn well better listen. 

We knew this scenario was possible, but I’m being sidelined quicker than I expected (or wanted). I’m writing this note so that the team has an email to send out today as planned, and then then they take things over from here. 

If you respond and donate, like so many did to my personal note when visiting my mom a few weeks ago, it would mean the world to me—and really help keep things chugging along. Connecting with people as people is a big part of our strategy. 

And a lot of making the case for donations comes down to differentiating our work from others. You know the journalism is different. And you know that journalism faces some big challenges. 

What feels right to me, in this frankly uncomfortable moment before I go offline for a long while, is to make sure you also know how different and remarkable the people of Mother Jones are. 

It’s actually something I told Monika I might write about eventually. 

I think it was during last spring and winter’s huge wave of news industry layoffs and closures, reading about the shitty ways a lot of media executives handle things. 

How so many Men with Grand Ideas in media whom she and Clara have encountered (and been told by other men with deep pockets to be more like) over the years seem to care about their egos and prestige a helluva lot more than the journalism or people—whether staff or audience. 

There was a particular story we ended up not sharing far and wide that I recall saying, “You can’t write this one, Monika, but one day I’m going to write about why being led by good people matters so much right now.” 

Reader, it does. 

Of course your donations make our journalism possible. Of course they’re needed like never before given our budgets AND THE ELECTION that I hope to be back for. 

But what’s on my mind right now more than anything else, is how your support and our organization’s future is stewarded by fierce, but deeply compassionate individuals who care so very much about two things: Not egos or prestige, but journalism and people.  

That counts for something. Because it informs everything.  And as you decide which news organizations to hitch your wagon to this fall, I want you all to know—because I sure as hell know it and appreciate it as I shut this laptop down.

Take care, donate often, and know that I’ll be back soon. And Marla, I promise, no checking ANYTHING until you say I’m good to go.