The following reflection, written by Nia B. Matherson, Director of Impact at Goodwill Industries of the Southern Piedmont, is part of the REALize Power Reflection Series and explores the importance of honoring lived experiences alongside traditional metrics in program evaluation. Nia’s insights have key implications for how we think about impact and success in the nonprofit sector, including:
- Recognize the ‘space between the metric and the moment’: Understanding that transformation often unfolds outside of strict reporting windows.
- Value lived experiences as data: Communities contain lived experiences that include essential indicators that quantitative metrics often fail to capture.
- Redefine success through community power: Shifting power requires that we allow participants and frontline staff to define what meaningful progress looks like.
- Advocate for flexible evaluation: Creating reporting systems that accommodate the non-linear realities of the communities being served is a matter of equity.
Nia’s piece is a powerful reminder that our work is not just about the numbers we report, but the human lives we serve. To read Nia B. Matherson’s full piece, “The Space Between the Metric & the Moment,” please continue to read below.
The Space Between the Metric and the Moment
Written by Nia B. Matherson, Director of Impact at Goodwill Industries of the Southern Piedmont
Acknowledgments: This reflection was co-created with the Lift Every Voice Team and shaped through peer review by fellow Cohort 1 Alum, Lisa Sprinkles.
For the past five years, I have worked in the nonprofit sector in program evaluation, impact measurement, grant reporting, and storytelling. In my current role as Director of Impact at Goodwill Industries of the Southern Piedmont in Charlotte, North Carolina, I help communicate stories of change. In many ways, my work involves translating lived experiences into something that can be measured, tracked, and shared with those who support and fund our programs.
At first glance, that may sound straightforward. But over time, I have realized that much of this work exists in the space between two things: the metric and the moment.
Between dashboards and lived experiences
Between what’s counted and what’s felt
Between what can be reported and what is still unfolding
There’s one story I often return to when thinking about the limitations of traditional metrics. Unfortunately, stories like this are not uncommon in workforce development programs.
A participant enrolled in one of our workforce programs without a fully mapped-out plan. She simply wanted change. Like many participants we serve, her goals became clearer over time through conversations and support from her Career Navigator. Slowly, she began building confidence and envisioning a path forward, even though the journey was not linear or predictable.
The program was grant-funded, and as reporting deadlines approached, she had not yet achieved one of the required outcomes we were expected to measure. Because of that, she was counted as someone who did not “successfully” complete the program. Technically, the report was accurate.
But a few months later, after reporting had closed, she reached back out with exciting news. She had secured employment and described feeling more stable and hopeful than when she first entered the program. The confidence, support, and consistency she built during the program had finally taken root.
By then, however, it was too late for her success to count.
That experience has stayed with me for years because nothing about her journey felt like failure. If anything, the system failed to make space for her success. Real transformation does not always happen within a 30-, 60-, or 90-day reporting window, but that does not make progress less meaningful.
Who gets to define success?
Who decides when impact has happened?
What happens to the stories that don’t fit the reporting timeline?
In my role, I am tasked with “directing impact,” aligning data collection processes, influencing what is measured, and helping tell our organization’s story. But over time, I have come to understand that impact is rarely ours to direct. Too often, it is shaped by rigid timelines, predetermined metrics, and reporting systems that were designed long before participants ever entered the program.
The people in the communities we serve are navigating layered and systemic barriers every day. Many Black and Brown participants are balancing survival, caregiving responsibilities, unstable housing, transportation barriers, and employment challenges all at once.
Progress is rarely linear.
For many people, success may first look like emotional stability, renewed confidence, or simply believing change is possible again. Yet those shifts are often the hardest things to measure. When lived experiences cannot easily be turned into numbers, they can become minimized or overlooked altogether. This especially impacts communities whose stories and realities have historically been reduced to data points instead of being fully seen and understood.
Within my organization, I have seen staff witness growth that never fully appears on dashboards or charts. Participants speak openly about gaining confidence, stability, purpose, and hope which are often changes that cannot be captured through performance indicators alone.
As professionals working with data, we are often trying to reconcile two truths at once: the numbers we are required to report and the human transformation we know is happening. While that disconnect may appear small in the moment, over time it shapes program design, funding decisions, and how success itself is defined. So how do we navigate this tension while also working to change it?
For me, it means learning to honor both the metric and the moment.
It means adding narrative and context whenever possible, even when only numbers are requested. It means acknowledging barriers participants face so delayed outcomes are not mistaken for a lack of effort or program failure. It also means advocating for longer-term ways of measuring success. Some success stories unfold months or even years after a program ends, but they still matter deeply.
When thinking about equitable evaluation, I believe the issue is not only about what we measure, but also how we interpret what we see. Fair evaluation means recognizing that people’s lived experiences matter just as much as numbers on a report. This requires flexibility, transparency, and a willingness to value both data and human stories as equally important forms of knowledge.
Power is deeply connected to this conversation. It lives in the metrics we choose, the timelines we enforce, and the definitions of success we often accept without question. Historically, systems have been more comfortable measuring productivity than measuring healing, stability, dignity, or resilience. Communities of color have often been expected to fit into systems that were never fully designed with their lived realities in mind.
My goal is not to remove power from funders or institutions, but to redistribute it more equitably. Participants, frontline staff, and community organizations are closest to the work. They understand what real transformation looks like because they live beside it every day.
When community voices help define success, we begin to shift power.
When stories are valued alongside data, we begin to shift power.
When flexible timelines are acknowledged as necessary for real human growth, we begin to shift power.
For those working in nonprofits or data-centered roles, I hope we continue naming this tension rather than ignoring it. There is insight into the gap between what can be measured and what is truly being experienced.
For organizational leaders, there is both urgency and opportunity to advocate for systems that value context alongside outcomes—not just the results, but the realities behind them.
And for funders, I extend an invitation to create more collaborative and flexible reporting practices that honor the complexity of human lives rather than prioritizing speed and efficiency above all else.
Outside of work, I’m often swimming or sitting near water. When I think about equitable evaluation and shifting power, I naturally think about ripples in water. Some ripples are immediate and visible. Others move quietly and travel farther than we can see in a single moment.
Impact can work the same way.
Just because transformation cannot immediately be measured does not mean it is not happening. Maybe the question is not simply how we improve our metrics, but how we become more attentive to the subtle shifts and ripples happening around us every day.
Maybe that is how we begin building systems that truly honor the space between the metric and the moment.