The Exploited Volunteer: When Passion Is Preyed Upon in Recovery Spaces

For the sake of anonymity, we’ll call her Jade.

Jade attended my training bright-eyed, engaged, eager, and excited to contribute.

During the session, she proudly shared about the professor she was volunteering with, multiple organizations and a variety of projects. “The first in the world to study addiction and recovery,” she said.

Jade had never heard of William White, Bill Stauffer, and the many other leaders who came before. 

Her eyes lit up as she shared the hours and activities she poured into his work. It was clear she felt seen. Valued. Proud. You could tell she believed in the work.

But I saw something else.

Jade was a little over a year into recovery, volunteering 60+ hours a week, exhausted, burned out even, eager to belong, and idealizing someone who should have known better.

What looked like empowerment felt more like exploitation.

What Is Exploitation in Recovery Spaces?

Exploitation means using someone for personal gain, especially when they’re unpaid, unrecognized, or unaware.

In recovery spaces, it doesn’t always look cruel. It often wears a different mask:

• It cloaks itself in opportunity

• Framed as service but rooted in imbalance

• It sounds like praise but operates like extraction

• It isn’t always illegal. But it is always unjust

Exploitation is when your experience funds someone else’s power, and they call it collaboration.

Seeing Myself in Jade

Jade has stayed with me. She reminded me of myself, early in recovery: wide-eyed, willing to do anything.

I saw only the good and believed everyone in this field acted with integrity. Looking back now, I was naive and gullible, maybe too easy to manipulate and take advantage of. But I also deeply wanted to be part of something bigger than myself.

To make a difference. To belong.

So when I saw her, I saw myself. And I saw a pattern.

The Loyalty of Those in Recovery

I’ve seen that kind of loyalty before. It’s the loyalty that people in recovery often offer freely, especially when we think we’ve finally been given a seat at the table.

We enter recovery hoping to matter. To be useful. To be seen. But the cost can be high.

Our burnout is rebranded as commitment. Overgiving is framed as purpose. And behind it, someone else builds their reputation.

The Anger That Follows

My heart felt heavy. I felt an itch to do something. I wrestle with where my lane ends and responsibility begins.

And then, there’s anger.

• Anger that self-proclaimed leaders recruit volunteers and call it inclusion, while sitting comfortably with annual salaries that allow them a lifestyle many in recovery only dream of.

• Anger that this was the same academic who echoed almost my exact words, yet refuses to engage directly.

• Anger that they bypass experienced voices to court those more vulnerable, less resourced, less experienced, easier to mold.

The Invisible Economy of Recovery

I’ve seen it again and again: an invisible economy where people offer everything they have just to be seen as valuable, only to be used as evidence.

And at that stage of recovery, they don’t always see the cost until it’s too late.

We call it service. But sometimes, it’s a sacrifice.

I explore these dynamics further in The Dark Side of Recovery Leadership.

Why This Matters

Because Jade’s story isn’t an isolated one.

It’s happening across institutions, organizations, and collaborative projects where people in recovery are invited in, offering insight, time, and personal experience, to professionals who say they value community voice, but only if it doesn’t disrupt the power structures that feed off our labor, hardships, and experience.

This is not okay.

If we don’t name it, we risk passing it down to the next generation. 

But it will continue, because of who these individuals are, and what the system protects.

And that is where my fury rises.

Remember: Exploitation doesn’t always scream, it whispers.

Calliese Alexandra Conner

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Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs)

Is all unpaid volunteering exploitative?

No. The difference is informed consent, transparency, clear limits, and respect. If you can say no without punishment, and your contribution is credited fairly, you’re likely in safer territory.

Should I be required to share my personal recovery story?

No. Sharing personal experience should always be your choice, with control over where and how it appears, and the right to withdraw consent where possible.

How can I protect myself as a recovery volunteer?

Set clear boundaries, request a written role description, and prioritize your health first.

Why is it important to talk about exploitation in recovery spaces?

Because ignoring it risks normalizing harmful power structures, silencing lived voices, and burning out the very people the recovery movement depends on.

What can recovery leaders do to reduce exploitation risks?

Publish a code of conduct, provide supervision, cap volunteer hours, reimburse expenses, and create transparent credit/compensation policies.