Power, Inequality, Decolonisation – and Living My Recovery By Bronwyn April

When I spoke on “Power, Inequality, and Decolonisation” at the Irish Global Health Network’s annual summer school series, I framed the conversation as a shared reflection, not a lecture. We explored how “power over” shapes global health; how colonial histories and present-day systems still decide whose voices are heard, whose knowledge counts, and whose lives are valued.

What I did not say that day, is how closely these ideas live in my own life.

I am in the process of recovering from burnout. It is not a story in my past tense; it is the condition I wake up with each day, and I cannot simply step away to rest, because my right to remain in Ireland is tied to my work permit, and that permit is tied to uninterrupted employment. This is not just personal circumstance, it is a structural power over mechanism, a mechanism that quietly constrains both my choices and my voice.

It means I keep going even when I am exhausted, or when my body wants to stop. It means weighing how much I can speak out, knowing that too much truth, said in the wrong place, might have consequences I cannot afford. This is not freedom – it is the negotiation of survival inside a system that demands endurance.

The weight and the softness

“Power over” is rarely a single act of domination. As Lisa VeneKlasen and Valeries Miller (2002) note, it is one expression in a wider typology of power, the others being power with, power to, and power within. “Power over” manifests not only in overt control but in the steady pressure of compromises, silences, and the constant self-monitoring required to navigate hierarchical systems. It is the devaluation of non-Western knowledge, the expectation to assimilate into dominant norms, and the unspoken rule that rest is a privilege to be earned, rather than a right.

Yet, within this reality, there is softness. My current organisation, Comhlámh, has been central to my recovery. They hold space with me, not just facilitating my need to slow down, but actively sitting in this process alongside me. They make it possible to bring my whole, and at times, messy self into the work without fear of being discarded for it. In a professional landscape where extraction is often the norm, this is no small thing. It is power with in action: solidarity and collaboration that push back against isolation.

The quiet power of friendship

Outside of work, there is a small circle of friends who, like me, are navigating exhaustion and precarity. We understand each other without lengthy explanations. We check in, share food, swap small acts of care, and when one of us falters, another steps in. This is also power with – the solidarity of showing up for each other when the system around us does not.

Through these relationships, I experience power to – the capacity to act, to imagine, to laugh (again), to create change, even while operating within constraints.

Our conversations spark ideas, nurture collaborations, and remind me that transformation is not only the work of institutions; it begins in relationships grounded in trust. Agency, in this sense, is reclaimed through collective imagination and action.

Community and solidarity as decolonial practice

Decolonisation is often framed as dismantling structural and epistemic hierarchies, as it should be, and I have also learned that it should also be about building the relationships that make those hierarchies less able to isolate and harm us. As Aníbal Quijano (2000) and Nelson Maldonado-Torres (2007) argue, coloniality is a “living structure” – it persists beyond formal colonial rule, shaping knowledge systems, social hierarchies, and even our sense of self. Coloniality therefore thrives on fragmentation, competition, and the erasure of collective memory, but solidarity interrupts that logic.

Community building, in this sense, is not only a survival strategy, but a decolonial practice. In networks of trust, in Comhlámh, and in my friendships, I am reminded that I am more than my output. These spaces do not only help me endure the system; they begin to model the alternative social and institutional arrangements we seek to create.

Still walking this path

This is not a neat story of overcoming – it is ongoing, and I am still negotiating the pull of power over, while trying to anchor myself in power with, power to, and power within. Some days I succeed; some days I simply hold on, but I know that recovery, even in its slow and unfinished form, can itself be an act of decolonisation, an act of resisting the coloniality of being, which measures worth only through productivity and compliance.

At the close of my IGHN talk, I quoted South African poet Lebogang Mashile: “What if the thing you are seeking to repair is not broken, but silenced?”

Burnout, for me, has silenced joy, creativity, and imagination. In my organisation, in my friendships, in the small communities we tend together, I am listening for those silenced parts, and learning to let them speak again.

Because that, too, is power…

References:

• Maldonado-Torres, N. (2007) ‘On the coloniality of being: Contributions to the development of a concept’, Cultural Studies, 21(2–3), pp. 240–270.
• Quijano, A. (2000) ‘Coloniality of power, Eurocentrism, and Latin America’, Nepantla: Views from South, 1(3), pp. 533–580.
• VeneKlasen, L. and Miller, V. (2002) A New Weave of Power, People and Politics: The Action Guide for Advocacy and Citizen Participation. Rugby: Practical Action Publishing.

Author’s Biography 

Bronwyn April is the Education and Outreach Coordinator at Comhlámh, bringing 20 years of experience in social development and justice across South Africa, Zambia, and Ireland. In Ireland, her work has focused specifically on the wellbeing and rights of migrants, including developing training programmes, improving access to services, and advocating for pathways to employment and education. She is also a dedicated anti-racism advocate and is a Racial Justice facilitator in Ireland. She participated in a programme, delivered by INAR and STAND, which trained individuals from ethnic minority backgrounds to become anti-racism trainers and lead education initiatives across the country. Her work is grounded in values such as Justice, Equity, Community, Belonging, and Freedom. In her role at Comhlámh, she helps to build and strengthen community connections, foster solidarity, and promote critical thinking and transformative action for global justice