Every Day is Earth Day for Indigenous People

As we commemorate Earth Day, it’s important to hear directly from leaders working on the frontlines of changing how we care for not just our physical environment, but life that inhabits it. So, we sat down with Thalia Yarina Cachimuel (she/her, Kichwa-Otavalo), Director of Philanthropic Networks at NDN Collective to discuss the importance of this annual event, especially for indigenous communities.

A current student at the Harvard School of Education, Thalia’s professional career has been rooted in the realm of reimaging philanthropy, uplifting BIPOC organizations, and advocating for Indigenous communities through political policies.

This written conversation has been edited for clarity.

Thalia Carrol-Cachimuel, Director of Movement & Strategic Partnerships - NDN Collective

Suhasini: Thank you for sitting down to share this Earth Day. Can you tell us a little bit about NDN Collective’s work and mission?

Thalia: NDN Collective is a national Indigenous-led movement infrastructure organization dedicated to building Indigenous power. Our team ecosystem is made up of interrelated strategies working in tandem toward our shared vision and mission. NDN Collective operates under the three pillars of Defend, Develop, and Decolonize.

On Earth Day, NDN Collective honors the Indigenous land defenders and water and environmental protectors who put their lives on the line to protect Mother Earth.

Indigenous Peoples account for 5% of the global population yet safeguard 80% of the world’s biodiversity through traditional ecological knowledge. Today and every day, Indigenous Peoples, communities, and Nations’ fight to be free from oppressive systems. Our mission at NDN is to “build the collective power of Indigenous Peoples, communities, and Nations to exercise our inherent right to self-determination, while fostering a world that is built on a foundation of justice and equity for all people and Mother Earth.”

Suhasini: If you could ask anything of your philanthropic partners this time, what would those asks be?

Thalia: To our philanthropic partners, we ask that our mission be supported by centering grassroots and movement-led organizations that are on the frontlines working to protect Mother Earth.

Suhasini: Can you give us some examples of work already being done on the frontlines by Indigenous peoples to combat the climate crisis?

Thalia: LANDBACK, Stop Cop City, and supporting the Mineral Withdrawal in the Ȟesápa are just a few examples of how our frontline movements are working to protect our sacred lands. LANDBACK, in particular, is a long-standing movement that has existed for generations with a legacy of organizing and sacrifice to get stolen Indigenous lands back into Indigenous hands. This movement ensures that the rightful stewards of the land have complete autonomy and control over their prospective territories, as we are the experts in how to care for La Tierra. When we support the infrastructure of Indigenous-led solutions to the climate, such as LANDBACK, it benefits all people.

Suhasini: What is the approach towards protecting La Tierra and how essential is Indigenous wisdom to that approach?

Thalia: The approach to understanding how essential Indigenous wisdom is with regard to climate change is multifaceted and intersectional. Some of our suggestions:

Support Indigenous-led initiatives. Encourage partnerships and collaboration across sectors. Recognize that we as Indigenous people have a sacred relationship with our ancestral homelands. Therefore, hold the most critical position in the management of climate, biodiversity, and the environment. Move mutual aid funds to grassroots community-led organizations. Prioritize General Operating support. Implement trust-based philanthropy in practice, not just in promise. Center Indigenous solutions to the impending climate crisis will be the way forward.

Indigenous perspectives are often overlooked and intentionally excluded, despite the fact that Indigenous environmental defenders assume some of the greatest risks in undertaking this deeply challenging and spiritual work. Recently, NDN Collective launched the Indigenous Climate and Just Transition Fund – a major philanthropic endeavor to ensure that Indigenous-led frontline organizations are prioritized in federal investments such as the Inflation Reduction Act. NDN Collective will use the Fund for regranting, fund matching, technical assistance and capacity building to help frontline organizations apply for IRA grants, and more. Ensuring Indigenous Peoples have direct access to climate finance globally and safeguarding their rights in fund development and evaluation are essential.

Suhasini: Any last remarks to leave with us – the philanthropic sector – this Earth Day?

Thalia: We, as a sector, must be committed to the ongoing fight for environmental justice, Indigenous sovereignty, and a sustainable future. As we reflect on the interconnectedness of all life on Earth, let us remember that our actions shape the world we live in. Together, we hold a sacred responsibility to protect and preserve Mother Earth for generations to come.

Let it be known, Earth Day for Indigenous Peoples around the globe is every single day.

Additional Resources

Thalia Yarina Cachimuel (she/her, Kichwa-Otavalo) is the Director of Philanthropic Networks at NDN Collective. Thalia’s professional career has been rooted in the realm of reimaging philanthropy, uplifting BIPOC organizations, and advocating for Indigenous communities through political policies.

She is the curator of “The Fight to Free Leonard Peltier – Honoring Indigenous Culture & Heritage” and “Free Leonard Peltier” political advocacy exhibitions.

Thalia is an alumnus of the Fellowship for Emerging Leaders in Public Service at NYU Wagner and holds a Bachelor of Arts Degree in Human Services from Northeastern University. She is currently a student at the Harvard Graduate School of Education.

When the City of Atlanta proposed an 85-acre spot within the Weelaunee South River Forest in Dekalb County, Georgia as the site of a new “public safety” training facility, the backlash was swift. There were questions about what the training facility would be used for, including militarized training, concerns over unnecessary deforestation, and what it meant to build a police training facility in a predominantly Black community. As protests escalated, in January 2023, forest protector Manuel Esteban Paez Terán (also known as Tortuguita or “Little Turtle”), was executed by police adding fuel to an already very hot fire.

Despite these concerns and avoidable tragedy, construction on Cop City began in the spring of 2023.

How much more extraction must Black, Indigenous, and other People of Color endure before there are no more spaces left to live in peace? Cop City is but one example of sacrifice zone. It is important to recognize that the forest is not just a place for recreation, but also an important indicator of a thriving, healthy community

In the South River area of Atlanta where the training facility is being built, “71-88% of the population is Black, with asthma rates in the 94th percentile and diabetes in the 80th percentile nationally.” Furthermore, most residents in these zip codes live below the federal poverty line. Removal of the forested land only to be replaced by a military-style training facility complete with shooting ranges and 24/7 police surveillance means removal of one more sanctuary for populations already pushed to the margins through economic exclusion and over policing. What does it mean when a source of refuge for so many becomes a source of fear and hypervigilance? How does further militarization bring about clean air, safe drinking water, bountiful outdoor space, and affordable housing? How does increased policing support thriving connected communities with abundant food security? How do the environmental impacts of Cop City consequentially affect the reproductive freedoms of communities in Atlanta as well?

Sacrifice Zones for Marginalized

The concept of these sacrifice zones immediately challenges one of the key pillars of the reproductive justice framework, the right to parent children in safe communities. In the long term, it threatens to disrupt the remaining pillars of upholding the rights to have children, to not have children, and bodily autonomy.

When communities of Black, Indigenous and other People of Color are surrounded by pollution and environmental hazards, the risk of many existing reproductive consequences extends from miscarriages, maternal mortality, birth defects, and infant deaths.

The increase in police and surveillance in the area will also directly impact those seeking abortion services in a region that is historically committed to using the power of the state to criminalize limits on bodily autonomy, including abortion care. This can also look like organizers and activists being charged with racketeering for pushing back against the construction of Cop City, abortion organizers, and practical support providers especially considering that they rely so heavily on tactics named in the initial Stop Cop City indictment. Of these arrestees, gender non-confirming activists will face harsher police violence.

Those parenting their children will be raising their families in overpoliced communities while living in the constant fear that the state will take their children from them across systems of policing from child protective services to prisons, or state violence at the hands of police resulting in the deaths of their children.

We must remember that those on the frontlines of these kinds of projects are also those living on the frontlines of climate and reproductive injustice. The deforestation of hundreds of acres for the purpose of further scrutinizing Black, Indigenous and People of Color communities and families for existing is alarming within itself.

In June 2023 $30 million in city funding was approved for the project, which now has a total budget of $111 million. The primary source of the funding comes from the Atlanta Police Foundation, which has several corporate sponsors, donors, and foundation-based funding including AT&T, Waffle House, and the Robert W. Woodruff Foundation. This brings up a larger issue, should philanthropy really be funding policing?

Fund Frontline Communities Not Cops

As we look toward philanthropy to be more responsive and shift significantly more resources to the frontlines, what does it mean for funders to continue to support and uphold systems of police violence and militarization at the expense of those communities? Putting funding behind such projects only increases the dominant power vacuum that is the police-industrial complex.

Police departments do not need more funding. Community members surrounding the forest need more funding for their healthcare needs, especially as they continue to deal with polluted air, water and soil. Organizers and activists fighting racketeering charges need more funding for bail funds and legal representation.

Abortion funds and independent abortion clinics that will continue to serve abortion seekers in the state of Georgia need more funding as access to care is further criminalized and surveilled. There are many groups that are fighting this intersectional issue and that are in dire need of funding as this fight continues:

The fight to Stop Cop City is not a singular issue; the building of Cop City has an impact across margins and movements. The construction of this dangerous military facility knows no borders or margins and seeks to harm Black, Indigenous and People of Color communities for years to come. Philanthropy has a responsibility to repair the harm done to these communities, not exacerbate it.

For Further Reading:

Cop City and the Escalating War on Environmental Defenders (Sen, Colchete 2023)
Atlanta’s ‘Cop City’ and the relationship between place, policing, and climate (Love, Donoghoe 2023)
Military equipment flowing to local law enforcement raises questions (Cook, 2013)
Environmental impact targeted in new push against ‘Cop City’ (Alcorn, 2023)
Atlanta community members warn of environmental damage from ‘Cop City’ (Uyeda, 2022)
Environmental pollution lawsuit may pump the breaks on Cop City construction (James, 2023)
Anger, Protests, and Vandalism Break Out Over Philanthropy’s Support of the Police (Rendon, 2024)
Activists Lock Themselves to Construction Equipment to Protest “Cop City” (Garrison, 2024)
Atlanta wants to build a massive police training facility in a forest. Neighbors are fighting to stop it (Maxouris et al, 2022)
The Companies and Foundations behind Cop City (American Friends Service Committee, 2023)
The Green to Blue Pipeline: Defense Contractors and the Police Industrial Complex (Rahall 2015)
Police Shot Atlanta Cop City Protester 57 Times, Autopsy Finds (Lennard 2023)
This is the Atlanta Way: A Primer on Cop City (Herskind 2023)

__________________________________________________________________________________________________

Brandi Collins-Calhoun is a Movement Engagement Manager for Reproductive Justice and Gender Violence at the National Committee for Responsive Philanthropy (NCRP). A writer, educator and reproductive justice organizer, she leads the organization’s Reproductive Access and Gendered Violence portfolio of work.

Senowa Mize-Fox is a climate justice organizer and activist and the Movement Engagement Manager for Climate Justice and Just Transition at NCRP.

Showing Up for Women this Women’s History Month and Beyond

Every March, we celebrate and honor Women’s History Month by focusing on the incredible accomplishments of women. Our focus should go beyond the generosity of women like MacKenzie Scott, who has promised to give away most of her fortune by challenging traditional grantmaking. It stretches further than celebrating talented athletes like Caitlin Clark, who by breaking the Division I record for total points scored defied gender barriers and roles in college basketball, right in time for the most sacred season of March Madness.

Amid the celebrations are also the cold, harsh economic realities of too many talented, yet underpaid leaders. Pay inequities are not just a Hollywood story. Across all sectors, we can find women like actress Taraji P. Henson who shared a decades long history of being undercompensated compared to her white and male counterparts.

When we talk about leveling the playing field, what is it we really mean?

Women’s Equal pay day fell on March 12th in 2024, but even that pay day is misleading. It really should be called White Women’s Equal Pay Day, because that is who earns 79 cents to every white male counterpart’s 1 dollar. Black women today earn just 64 cents to every dollar. Latinx women earn 52 cents to every dollar. Indigenous women are paid 55 cents to every dollar. Often, women’s funding does not include race as a factor. Initiatives like The Black Girl Freedom Fund, Grantmakers for Girls of Color, and Women & Girls of Color Fund are helping to repair that harm.

As the world rightly focuses on pay equity, representation and full decision-making power over our lives and bodies, philanthropy has an obligation to just how little funding there is for gender justice causes. Despite 2017’s #MeToo movement, philanthropic investments have been dismal and barely kept up with inflation. 1.6% of funding goes to support women and girls, .5% goes to women and girls of color, and funding for trans communities was a teeny .015% in the last decade.

This Women’s History Month let us especially celebrate, honor, and remember women and gender nonconforming people who stand on the frontlines of every social movement in this country. Those who use their First Amendment right to speak loud and clearly in favor of real gender equity and reproductive justice.

Afterall, the origins of Women’s History Month in the US began as a demonstration to commemorate an economic strike. According to the National Women’s History Alliance, the 2024 theme for Women’s History Month is “Women Who Advocate for Diversity, Equity and Inclusion.”

How will your philanthropy demonstrate this advocacy – in March – and beyond?

February 12th-18th launched this year’s annual #BlackGirlFreedomWeek. Hosted by the Black Girl Freedom Fund and the #1Billion4BlackGirls campaign, the hybrid event is a week-long celebration of Black girls and gender-expansive youth, and what is possible when philanthropy invests abundantly in their dreams and safety. The week of Black joy and liberation is selected not just in honor of Black History Month, but in celebration of the late Toni Morrison and Audre Lordes birthdays.

It was only right then that I spent the afternoon of Valentines Day in a space that felt like a love letter to Black feminism and the reproductive justice framework. The intergenerational space titled “Reproductive Justice or Nothing: The Fight for Bodily Autonomy and Freedom” featured the transformative voices of Ashlei Spivey and Lolah-Belle Bunch (from iBeABlackGirl) Ponny White,(Girls for Gender Equity) and was moderated by Loretta Ross (a professor at Smith College and a co-creator of the term Reproductive Justice).

Offerings of Healing Justice

Each speaker gave offerings of how the reproductive justice framework brought them into this movement, what the movement’s legacy meant to them and how it guides their work, how they navigate respectability politics while living the Black feminist Praxis, and what healing justice means to this space.

As a Black feminist and reproductive justice organizer, I am thankful that space was curated to amplify conversations about the experiences of those on the frontlines of reproductive justice, specifically what it looks like to hold this work as Black women and gender-expansive people. And while I am certain that the conversation reached across sectors within the audience, my PSO listening ear couldn’t help but interpret what the panelist shared into call to actions for my funder comrades.

New Voices for Reproductive Justice, Executive Director Beulah Osueke grounded the space by sharing her Black Girl Freedom Dream. Her love offering details her dream that “Black girls and young femmes across the globe recognize that the limitations placed on them are lies and unjust. She hopes that they’ll be able to sever whatever person, place or thing that does not fully serve them, and that they’ll intimately know their worth and potential, and that they’ll be surrounded with the support needed to exceed their highest aspirations.”

Osueke’s words reflected my time and experiences as a reproductive justice organizer and prepared myself and other attendees for the thoughtful word that was about to be delivered by the panelist.

Below is the transcribed X thread:

In hope my funder counterparts are watching Reproductive Justice or Nothing: The Fight for Bodily Autonomy and Freedom #BlackGirlFreedomWeek #philanthropy

@newvoicesrj grounding and opening the space is only right

Hearing how the panelists saw themselves and what they were experiencing in real time in the RJ framework is a reminder that if Black women and femmes don’t see ourselves in the work, it’s not actually RJ #blackGirlFreedomWeek #philanthropy

“Inter-generational work in the RJ movement is imperative, the passing of knowledge and space, support and healing make a difference in how we show up” AshleySpivey-Arthur @ibeblackgirl #blackgirlfreedomweek #philanthropy

Also on intergenerational organizing in RJ “We innately don’t believe in letting one another go, it’s so important to know where you come from, know the work of your ancestors and be able to shout-out the work of the people that came before you” Ponny White @GGENYC

Lola’s-Belle Bunche @ibeblackgirl on the generations of RJ organizers before her “I wouldn’t be here today without my elders, without them passing the torch following in their or them giving me a lead to really help and see this world succeed” #BlackGirlFreedomWeek

Ponny White came through with a word on healing when this work takes a toll on you. “This work isn’t easy, and we can’t romanticize it, this is not just one person’s job or work, it’s generations of effort and work.“ @GGENYC #blackgirlfreedomweek

“And within that generations, its generation of joy and rest, so when you do feel like you need to step back, it’s okay to step back but it’s not okay to step away from community and isolate yourself” Ponny White @GGENYC #blackgirlfreedomweek

“Healing justice is the foundation of Black joy and Black liberation” Ponny White @GGENYC #BlackGirlFreedomWeek

Lolah-Belle Bunche on how she shows up in spaces where her presence might make others uncountable “I know that I have enough self-love and community, where I can succeed and accomplish all that I need to accomplish” @ibeblackgirl #BlackGirlFreedomWeek

Ponny White @GGENYC Black Girl Freedom Dream “That Black girls get to be authentically themselves, that they get to exist in a society and in communities that uplift them, support them and celebrate them” #BlackGirlFreedomWeek

Lola-Belle Bunche @ibeblackgirl Black Girl Freedom Dream is “I want to see them complete their dreams and be a part of the generation that sees tons of success” #BlackGirlFreedomWeek

Glad that @G4GC_org @BlkGrlFreedom were able to amplify conversations about reproductive justice and what it looks like to hold this work as a Black women and femme. They touched on so many of the gaps that #philanthropy has created with some of their funding practices

Attending this panel on reproductive during #BlackGirlFreedomWeek reminded me why holding space for Black joy and liberation is such a crucial part of the work we do. It allows us to imagine a world where philanthropy invests in the possibilities of Black girls and the safety they deserve to pursue those dreams.

The staff, board, and partners of the National Committee of Responsive Philanthropy (NCRP) were deeply saddened to hear earlier this month about the passing of one of philanthropy’s most impactful leaders, Janine Lee.

Janine was the longtime president and CEO of Philanthropy Southeast, one of the country’s largest networks of philanthropic foundations and leaves a lasting impact on all who knew her.

“The warmth of her personality, combined with an unwavering commitment to the Southeast and a steadfast belief in the power of philanthropy, made her one of our field’s most impressive and inspiring leaders,” wrote Kristen Keely-Dinger, Chair of Philanthropy Southeast ‘s Board of Trustees. “Words cannot convey how much we will miss her.”

A Steadfast Warrior for a stronger South

Colleagues and friends remembered Janine first and foremost as a mentor and builder of deep relationships in the service of justice.

“Part of Janine’s legacy is that she worked to prepare new generations of leaders dedicated to racial equity and making a greater difference for the people of the South,” said Southern Education Fund Chief Operating Officer Kenita T. Williams, a Philanthropy Southeast board member and former staff member.

Keely-Dinger described Janine’s sector leadership as expansive, singling out among some things, her adoption of Equity Framework, and co-founding Grantmakers for Effective Organizations (GEO). Always a strategic advocate for racial equity, Janine used her talents and vision to shape not only the work of Philanthropy Southeast, but also the United Philanthropy Forum, and philanthropy’s reach overall.

“Her leadership both within foundations as well as within key philanthropy serving organizations will live on as Janine never just “held a seat”; rather, she fully utilized every position she had to exercise leadership and voice according to her values,” said ABFE in a recent statement emailed to its membership.

She also left a lasting impact at grantmakers like the Ewing Marion Kauffman Foundation and the The Arthur M. Blank Foundation. “Janine was a wonderful colleague. Kind. Warm. Always with a keen moral compass. She was a strong Black female leader in philanthropy at a time when there were precious few. She held her own and always with immense grace,” said Fay Twersky, president of the Arthur M. Blank Family Foundation.

Janine’s Impact on NCRP

Staff at NCRP had the privilege of experiencing Janine’s leadership firsthand on a number of occasions over the last two decades.

NCRP President and CEO, Aaron Dorfman fondly remembers her as “a master at knowing just how far she could push the envelope without getting fired,” a critical skill for someone dedicated to causing what the late Congressman and civil rights activist John Lewis called “good trouble.”

NCRP Vice President and Chief Strategy Officer, Timi Gerson remembers Janine’s role in the release of Philanthropy at Its Best, NCRP’s seminal standard-setting report detailing key benchmarks for grantmakers. Janine, Timi (then at Fenton Communications) and Aaron orchestrated placement of an op-ed by Janine in the Atlanta Journal Constitution during that year’s Council on Foundations conference, with NCRP staff placing a copy of the paper at every door of the conference hotel!

“Janine was a firebrand, in the best possible sense of the word. She was willing and able to disrupt the toxic ‘civility culture’ and unspoken rules of philanthropy that allow funders to avoid tough conversations – instead she used her position to speak truth to power and force her peers to listen,” said NCRP Vice President and Chief Strategy Officer, Timi Gerson.

Her kindness and warmth extended to everyone she interacted with, regardless of their positional power. Director of Research Ryan Schlegel was a research associate when he first met Janine while working on our As the South Grows report series.

“I met Janine when I was working on the As the South Grows as a relatively unqualified, young, privileged white man and she was always kind to me and interested in my point of view,” Schlegel recalls. “A true leader!”

Another longtime staffer, Ben Barge shared that what he remembered most about Janine was how much of a tireless advocate she was for justice.

“She built deep relationships, spoke truth to those who needed to hear it, and always kept her eye on the horizon,” said Barge, NCRP’s current Field Director. “We’re not just losing a titan in the field – we’re losing a beloved friend.”

Our deepest condolences go out to Janine’s family, friends, and community at this time. Janine’s advocacy, persistence legacy will continue to inspire us all.

In September 2023, Executive Director of Movement Voter PAC, Billy Wimsatt, penned an incredibly moving letter about the current state of funding for voter engagement. Since then, NCRP has shared this “Bat Signal” far and wide.

NCRP Field Manager Trey Gibson, a former civic engagement organizer in North Carolina, agrees. As she wrote soon after in Fund Organizing Like Our Democracy Depends on It…Because It Does, foundations and high net worth donors must focus on investing in communities, not just issues.

Whether it is an election year or not, funding organizers is as urgent and necessary as ever.

Pouring in from their own unique experiences in the world of democracy, Gibson and Wimsatt sat down to talk about just what has happened since the memo went live and where progressive funder organizers can go from there.

Below is their conversation in its entirety.

Trey Gibson: Our view is that your memo is such an important piece and I’d love to know how it has been received since you released it. Have you noticed any questions or changes from donors in response to the memo since it dropped?

Billy Wimsatt: Wow – thank you so much for reading it and asking!

I’ve been really encouraged by the response. The good news is that a few handfuls of donors really took the message to heart and are making their biggest donations ever – including a handful of heroic people who are really stretching themselves and giving at the million-dollar level.

I just heard from another unexpected person who wants to give a million dollars today! Hopefully this will be a trend!

Seeing donors who were typically giving $1,000 or $25,000 donors decide to give $1 million or some other number that is truly a stretch for them has been incredibly inspiring. And there were lots of other people who increased their giving substantially (eg from $50,000 to $100,000) and were intentional about giving early in January – that was great to see.

The bad news is that we still have a loooong way to go to get the frontline electoral organizers hundreds of millions of dollars they need to do their work.

We need a movement of at least a few hundred seven-figure donors to “see the light” from the Bat Signal and make the decision – with their families and their financial advisors – to make their largest donation ever. And to understand clearly that in historical terms, 2024 really is that moment we have all been waiting for. It’s time to stop being reluctant bystanders, to strap on our superhero capes, and become major protagonists in the 2024 story.

In short, we need many more people to read it, share it, get together with their folks, and ask themselves the question: “What is the biggest thing we can do – individually and as a group?” in terms of donating and inviting others to join us.

One of the other most encouraging trends we have seen is people inviting their friends and family. People are getting their folks together to do a “Zoom Salon” to discuss this idea with a small group of friends or networks. That’s how we’re going to do this – through hundreds of smaller conversations that add up to the hundreds of millions of dollars that are needed.

We can do this – but we gotta do it fast!

Trey Gibson: Why do you think progressive donors didn’t give to grassroots voter engagement organizations in 2023 at the same level that they did leading into the last two elections?

Billy Wimsatt: I think it was a confluence of reasons – none of which are surprising:

One, people were exhausted and depressed from the never-ending pandemic.

Two, people are exhausted and depressed by politics.

Three, our inboxes are overloaded with incessant spammy political fundraising emails.

Four, the economy and the market were bumpy – which contributed to a feeling of uncertainty – and a lot of people’s financial advisors told them not to sell stocks or give.

Five, people were caught up in the political circus and getting distracted by the twists and turns of the news cycle instead of thinking about how we can be strategic as donors and funders regardless of what happens in the news cycle.

Six, most donors always take a break during on “off years” – which we know, of course, are actually the crucial years for building the infrastructure we need during the big election years.

And then when the horrors of October 7th happened. Everyone was stunned and in huge pain and fear. It divided our communities and suddenly we had the coalition of people who weren’t going to donate, people who weren’t going to organize, and people who weren’t going to vote… which is not a winning combination.

We have to find a way to resolve this as soon as possible so that we can pivot and all work together to secure our democracy at home. I’m seeing some promising signs. We are in the most acute phase of the crisis right now. And my hope is that we can take steps to de-escalate fast enough to bring the family back together before the fall.

The other thing that a lot of groups are worried about is 2025. They lived through the funding drought of 2023. It’s still fresh on everyone’s minds. We need organizations to have a sense of financial security in 2024 to be ambitious and run their biggest programs. We need local voter engagement groups to run their most ambitious programs this year – especially because our base is demoralized and pissed off. We are going to need to train canvassers to do a really skillful version of deep canvassing and persuasion conversations, not just turnout. And we’re going to need to frankly give them combat pay because they’re going to be out there in the streets dealing with a lot of hard conversations, more than they have in past years, and facing attacks from right-wingers – from violence to doxxing.

So the more that funders can either promise groups 2025 funding – or even better, give groups their 2025 funding outright in 2024 so they have it in the bank, that will go a long way toward giving voter engagement organizations the security they need to go all out in 2024 without worrying that they’re going to fall off a cliff and have to do layoffs again in 2025 like they did in 2023.

The past few decades of growth in US wealth is astronomical and unprecedented in human history. We have 5 million US families with $5 million or more who could be making way bigger donations than they are making. I asked my parents. It’s time for everyone who has access to wealth to talk about how much we need, and then to do bold and strategic things with the rest of it – or we’re not going to have a democracy and a livable climate. Existential times call for existential donations!

_{Movement Voter PAC Executive Director Billy Wimsatt}

Trey Gibson: I recently read that funders should shift away from measuring civic engagement work solely by the outcomes of elections and should instead emphasize measuring the power that organizations build through the community leadership that they develop. I’m curious, what do you think progressive donors need to understand about building long term political power?

Billy Wimsatt: For me, it’s very much a both/and. We don’t have to choose between short-term impact and long-term impact, electoral focus, and community power-building focus. We are so lucky to have a generation of incredibly effective and strategic local organizations and leaders who are deeply committed to doing both. All we have to do is get them the resources they need to do it, and then we can sit back and read in the newspaper about all the amazing things they accomplished and won.

Not really sit back – because a big part of our job as funders and donors and people who work in this space is to always be organizing others to join us so we can 2X and 10X whatever money we are moving to the field. And to create inviting on-ramps for others with access to money to get connected to the kinds of leaders, organizations, and solutions that are proven to leverage modest sums of money into massive structural change.

Minnesota is a great case study that a lot of people are talking about. Organizers spent ten years getting aligned with each other and with their elected leaders. They ran big values and issue campaigns. They ran big electoral campaigns cycle after cycle. They built relationships with elected leaders so that they could co-govern. And because of all that work over ten years, when they finally secured a governing coalition, they were able to pass ten years’ worth of incredible legislation in just a few months: A billion dollars for affordable housing, free school breakfasts and lunches for every student, 100% clean energy standards, drivers licenses for undocumented Minnesotans, the right to vote for 50,000 returning citizens, the strongest abortion and LGBTQ protections, new laws guaranteeing family and medical leave as well as earned sick and safe time (including for temporary and part-time workers!), making public college free for families earning less than $80,000/year, expanded background checks and a new “red flag law” for gun ownership, automatically expunging misdemeanor marijuana convictions.

So much goodness! We can have nice things.

That is what power-building and co-governance looks like. It’s not just looking narrowly at tactical efficiencies to get the lowest cost per vote under idealized conditions. It’s about having a comprehensive strategic program to transform a state – and if you do that in enough states, it can transform our federal system of governance in the same way. We are talking about shifting a multi-trillion-dollar political and economic system.

There is nothing more effective, more impactful, or with greater ROI for philanthropic actors than to make a strategic intervention with that.

Trey Gibson: In your memo, you referred to staff at local progressive organizations as the “essential workers” and “first responders” of our democracy. What would you say to the staff and volunteers who will be knocking doors and registering voters this year, who might be feeling discouraged by this downward trend in giving? What words of hope or encouragement can you offer?

Billy Wimsatt: I love this question. I think funders speak loudest with our actions and with our money.

The best words of hope and encouragement we can give are in the form of checks that are as big as possible and as early as possible. I’m afraid nothing else we have to say will be very encouraging or hope-inspiring right now.

But I will try:

You all are the unsung heroes of the world. For the life of me, I don’t understand why everyone with a brain and a conscience isn’t focused on getting you all the money you need as early as you need it so you can run the biggest, best voter engagement program possible.

MVP will do everything we can. And I hope that many others will join us in building a movement of donors and funders that is worthy of the incredible organizing you do – on behalf of all of us.

“The word ‘love’ is most often defined as a noun, yet we would all love better if we used it as a verb… Imagine how much easier it would be for us to learn how to love if we began with a shared definition.”

– bell hooks, All About Love

bell hooks on the PBS’ Charlie Rose Show in 1995 — _{bell hooks on PBS’ Charlie Rose Show (1995)}

As an artist and organizer, I have always been drawn to those authors who see writing itself as a vehicle of change and impact on larger social issues. bell hooks is one of those trailblazing writers whose work on race, feminism, and class have influenced me and countless others to tap into our creativity in order to bring about a more just and equitable world

It seems fitting to draw upon bell hooks as we celebrate Valentine’s Day because of her exploration into what the practice and promise of love looks like. In fact, her writings on a just, community-centered love are especially appropriate for the philanthropy to consider all year around.

Philanthropy is supposed to reflect our love of humanity. So, what would it look like if the sector took bell hooks’ advice and rooted grantmaking in love as a verb, not just a noun.

Why Center Love

In its purest form, philanthropy is etymologically defined as ‘love for humanity.’ So, it follows that the best model for philanthropists is one who acts out of love for humankind. If philanthropy really is all about love, our support, our investments and other funder/donor actions must be seen – and judged – as a reflection of that love.

Love is absent in many places in the sector. When I was introduced to bell hooks’ work, I was a 19-year-old educator learning what it meant to be in a classroom. In her book Teaching to Transgress, she often speaks about how love was a missing ingredient from the classroom, that there was indeed enough love to go around. However, often many education institutions were so caught up in raw data, cold hard facts, they did not realize how a culture of love could impact the community.

Similarly, philanthropy’s relationship with love is, at best, inconsistent. At worst, it is dehumanizing to those in need, hypocritical about how much is possible.

“Abuse and neglect negate love. Care and affirmation, the opposite of abuse and humiliation, are the foundation of love. No one can rightfully claim to be loving when behaving abusively.”

Philanthropy makes many bold statements about their support for diversity and building the power of impacted communities. Yet those who sit at the margins are still often treated as interlopers in the nonprofit and foundation spaces. Even in the best circumstances, they are just one gathering or annual report away from being used as tokens, put on display in order to make foundation trustees look good or grantmaker mission statements actually mean something tangible.

_{cover of All About Love by bell hooks}

The examples of the sector’s disconnect are all around us. Too many are happy to just say that Black Lives Matter but roll their eyes at the concept of reparations being a reality for their organization. Many say they support queer communities but won’t listen to trans people when they say their very existence and lives are in danger. Those on the left are quick to share graphic visuals of violence on their IG stories of families at the Mexico-US, border, but how many are using their generational wealth, resources, or connections to support the very same frontline migrant justice organizations that are grappling with increasingly hostile environments and limited resources.

Philanthropic love means utilizing grantmaking as a means for freedom rather than an avenue to reinforce existing dominations. It means lifting caps and restrictions on the way that we give and having greater faith and flexibility with the way we give. It means going beyond the initial impact of digital activism or using the right keywords on X.

To fully center the work on love, more philanthropic intuitions will have to take real accountability for their role in past missteps and harm.

For philanthropy to be a true expression of our love for humanity, it will need to acknowledge this uncomfortable history. While the first steps on that journey are noteworthy and important, multiple, vocal steps are needed for that love to deeply take root.

Love means honesty – and accountability

“Love and accountability work in tandem, especially as you are trying to revise the way your institution functions….”

The very first step in really showing love when harm has been done, when there’s a history of gaining wealth by extracting it from existing communities, is to say you’ve done it. Denying or minimizing it or making it hard for others to discover it is just as bad as directly lying about it. And lying about this reality and your connections to it really serves nobody.

Real change sets aside neutrality. It takes a clear and vocal position, for all to hear and read.

“Choosing to be honest is the first step in the process of love. There is no practitioner of love who deceives. Once the choice has been made to be honest, then the next step on love’s path is communication.

Choosing Love

Scholars of her work will say that of the nearly 40 books written, All About Love is the most raw, unfiltered book bell hooks ever wrote. Yet, the impact is undeniable. It reminds us that while we all have different starting points and all carry different baggage, it is never too late to learn and do better.

If we believe that another world is possible and want the dream of that world to sustainably come to pass, we need philanthropy to exemplify their mission as verbs – not just nouns. Communities need consistent actions – not just carefully word smithed intentions. We must be clearer about the way this love looks and operates for all, not just for the connected few or when we are in a state of crisis.

As bell hooks reminds us, “The moment we choose to love, we begin to move against domination, against oppression. The moment we choose to love we begin to move towards freedom, to act in ways that liberate ourselves and others.”

Let’s not waste any more time. Let us make a commitment to center more love in our philanthropy.

Can we really define the work any other way?

Suhasini Yeeda is the Editorial Manager at the National Committee for Responsive Philanthropy.

Screenshot of bell hooks on Charlie Rose Show sourced at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ShWJf8BIqI&t=184s via https://bellhooksbooks.com/

When Washington, DC was established as the capital of the United States by the Residency Act of 1790, the city’s framers aimed to build a beacon of democracy for all the world to see. In its role as the federal city, DC was meant to serve as the national symbol for democracy.

In many ways, their vision for the city to serve as a national manifestation of America’s democratic values has come to fruition; even if not exactly as they originally envisioned. Always, the local history of democracy in the District of Columbia has been a fractured one; its promise deeply warped by the nation’s struggle with systemic exclusion and racism.

In fact, if democracy is, at its core, about representation and voting rights, then today’s residents of the District continue to have woefully limited access to full democratic standing. Furthermore, one’s positionality dictates the degree to which individual Washingtonians experience the impacts of the lack of full representation. Depending on an individual’s unique identity, including racial and economic factors, access to democracy certainly looks different.

However, democracy is meant to be not just a form of government, but an accessible vehicle across social classes to achieve stability through choice. As detailed in NCRP’s Cracks in Foundation report and other materials, for Black Washingtonians, the experience of democracy and choice has historically been complicated and often interrupted.

TROUBLING EXCLUSION RIGHT FROM THE START

From the beginning of colonial contact with the native tribes that used to call this area their home, land and land ownership have been used to shape the development of the metropolitan city we know today. Its roots are firmly embedded into—and fueled by—the exploitation of cheap labor and resources.

The 17th century land grabs yielded tobacco exportation, which solidified the area’s early economic powerhouses. Local production of tobacco was very successful in the 18th century. However, it was a labor-intensive crop that also depleted the land’s nutrients.

Black and enslaved labor was used to create the high yields of the early tobacco industry, but by the turn of the 19th century, the crops yielded were fewer and fewer. This forced plantation enterprises to adopt new economic models away from crop production and toward extracting value from the exploitation of their enslaved labor. The economic dynamics of Washington’s early years, which baked enslavement and inequality into their foundations, created social and political systems in the area and the legacies of inequities that we are grappling with today.

BLACK PLACE-MAKING IN WASHINGTON

Prior to the turn of the 20th century, the federal city of Washington was limited to the original L’Enfant plan (L’Enfant-Ellicott Plan). Most of the land that had been donated to the federal government by the state of Maryland remained rural farmland into the late 1800s. This created rural enclaves of freedmen and women who were living in what was known as Washington County, often around the former sites of Civil War era forts.

Picture of Black children playing outside Washington, D.C.'s Barry Farms Housing Development in 1944. — _{Photo of Black children playing outside Washington, D.C.’s Barry Farms Housing Development in 1944}

This was the case of the Pointer/Harris and Dorsey/Shorter families who lived on Broad Branch Road NW, in what is current-day Chevy Chase DC. Their ancestors, just a few generations back, had been born into enslavement and achieved their freedom through manumission prior to the Emancipation Proclamation.

The Black Broad Branch community [then known as Dry Meadows] preceded the establishment of the Chevy Chase Company by nearly 50 years. They began to form as an African American enclave that thrived on community support, entrepreneurship, and the relative freedom of living outside of the city’s imposition of the racial codes that dictated Black life in Washington.

In the build-up to the Civil War and in the years immediately following it, Washington’s population and federal presence saw a rapid spike. The friction between the economic interests behind the system of enslavement and the sovereignty of American democratic ideals came to a boil and brought people to Washington for different reasons.

In the 19th century, the population in Washington County grew quickly as formerly enslaved people sought freedom. For Black men, joining the military offered them an opportunity to gain the rights of citizenship. For those who did not have access to the military route, including many Black women, freedom petitions and the purchasing of one’s freedom became ways to achieve manumission. Whichever way it was achieved, relative freedom was possible for Black residents of Washington, DC before most anywhere else in the country.

Cover of NCRPs report, Cracks in the Foundation: Philanthropy's Role in Reparations for Black People in the DMV — _{Find Out More About NCRP’s report on Philanthropy and Reparations}

For four generations, the Dry Meadows community thrived along Broad Branch Road NW and cultivated the land both for their own nutrition and to sell cash crops. The Dorsey-Shorter family also built an addition to their family farmhouse that housed the neighborhood’s first grocery store. The families also traveled to nearby Georgetown to sell their crops and goods in more densely populated markets.

Beginning in the 1890s, they watched as the neighborhood around them transformed from the rural farmland of Washington County to a developed residential neighborhood similar to what we know Chevy Chase DC to be today. This made their land plots much more appealing to the burgeoning white community that would increasingly find multiple ways to encroach on their lives — and land.

DESIGNED EXCLUSION

Like many other cities in the United States, today’s demographics and economic—and thus, political—distribution of power in Washington, DC have been shaped by the use of the process of eminent domain in the early 20th century. Eminent domain, coupled with racially restrictive covenants, was used to intentionally create segregated neighborhoods well into the 1960s.

In 1929, this practical cocktail was used to forcibly remove the Black Broad Branch families by the National Capital Planning Commission (NCPC). This is the same process that was used in the neighboring Reno City as it was enveloped into Tenleytown. The area surrounding the Dry Meadows community on Broad Branch Road NW became more densely populated and exclusively white. Large plantations in the upper Northwest, including the Belt estate and that of Horace Jones, were subdivided into single family lots that implemented racial covenants in their deeds.

As the developers attracted more white residents to their new enclaves, the new residents organized and lobbied through white citizens associations for segregated schools. Congress and the local Commission acquiesced and used the process of eminent domain to raze the lots inhabited by Black families on Broad Branch Road NW and developed Lafayette Elementary School, intended to be a white-only school. The interruption of Black place-making and the decoupling of Black communities from choice and self-sufficiency through racially exclusive political processes was repeated in the nation’s capital time after time throughout the 20th century.

In the Dry Meadows community, the Dorsey/Shorters were the last ones to give up their land to the NCPC. Subsequent generations of the Pointer/Harrises (who by then also had the surname Moten) ended up spread out across the rest of the city. Many of them, like the Scott family from the community displaced to make room for today’s Meridian Hill Park (also known as Malcolm X Park), were impacted by eminent domain yet again in future generations.

MAKING THE UNSEEN VISIBLE AGAIN

Current-day descendants from the Pointer/Harris and Dorsey/Shorter lineages have been traced down and interviewed by the Black Broad Branch Project, a public history project. The project collected 16 oral histories from 8 descendant-narrators and used those as a means to document the generational implications of being forcibly dislocated from their land, along with asking the descendants to define what redress would look like for them. Their definitions of redress were then used to create a strategic plan for reparations. Oral history, as a methodology and as a philosophy, can be a powerful tool to engage narratives and experiences of historically under-represented communities.

Written documents cannot capture the totality of someone’s experience. They are often limited in capturing the full details and nuances of quotidian life. In addition, documenting daily life in written form may not be part of a communities’ cultural traditions. As such, orality as a method of capturing life histories and experiences, allows for the democratization of cultural narrative-shaping. The oral history process allows such histories and perspectives to be included in repositories, where cultural institutions shape historical narratives. Such historical narratives deeply impact how individual people in Washington, DC navigate their spaces.

In the case of Black Broad Branch, oral histories allowed for descendants to illustrate the material and spiritual/intangible impacts that forced dislocation left in its wake. Their oral histories were used to capture generational outcomes that many Washingtonians have suffered from as a result of patterns of land dispossession and the weaponization of policy and private equity partnerships in the 20th century.

BETTER UNDERSTANDING OUR SHARED HISTORY

The generational arc captured by projects like the Black Broad Branch Project, offers a case study in reflecting how wealth creation and land dispossession have shaped the conditions that predominantly Black communities in Washington navigate today.

The interruption of Black placemaking (and choice) is at the crux of how Washington, DC came to be the city we know today. Racialized social norms informed racially exclusive political policies that then created harmful material and economic dynamics in the lives of Black Washingtonians.

Understanding these processes and being transparent about the systems that have resulted from their legacies, is a necessary first step to uproot the inequities that the city is grappling with in the present. It also serves as a microcosm for exploring how the nation as a whole has come to be in the present.

If a shared goal for us is to create a more equitable future, what would it look like for this history to be shared widely and honestly? The end goal should not simply be to cast culpability on victors and declare victims, but rather to understand that regardless of lineage and ancestry, all of us have inherited this shared history. Grappling with it is our shared responsibility.

Mariana Barros-Titus is the Co-founder of Black Broad Branch Project. She is a seasoned community organizer and public historian working at the intersection of public history and advocacy.

CONTACT (S): Russell Roybal rroybal@ncrp.org
Elbert Garcia, egarcia@ncrp.org

NCRP: Philanthropy Must Play An Active Role in Reparations for Black People

Cracks in the Foundation: Philanthropy’s Role in Reparations for Black People in the DMV, the newest report from
the National Committee for Responsive Philanthropy, examines grantmakers’ role in repairing the harm
created by the wealth generated from the systemic exclusion and exploitation of Black people in the Washington, DC area.

WASHINGTON, DC – At a time when so many are willing to give up any discussion of America’s past in exchange for a false semblance of civil discourse, a new report from the National Committee for Responsive Philanthropy makes the case that foundations have an immediate opportunity and responsibility to address society’s past harm in order to help communities heal and thrive.

Cracks in the Foundation: Philanthropy’s Role in Reparations for Black People in the DMV details how the disparities in areas like education, income, employment and housing for Black residents in the District of Columbia, southern Maryland, and northern Virginia areas (commonly known as the DMV) are not random or natural occurrences but are a string of conscious choices that repeatedly harmed communities.

Using publicly available quantitative and qualitative research, the report details how the great wealth that later made philanthropy possible in the DC area came at the expense of the social stability and economic success of Black residents. The report examines these harmful actions in four distinct sectors: media, housing, employment, and healthcare. It also provides a framework for foundations to not only understand their past, but how they may start acknowledging and addressing these harms with community residents.

The report is available for download at ncrp.org/reparations

“Despite individuals and some organizations being generally aware of the historical exploitation of Black people in this country, philanthropy has never really reckoned with how the ill-gotten gains from systemic discrimination and exclusion were the seed capital for so many modern grantmakers,” said Dara Cooper, a national strategic consultant and organizer. “This report helps us connect the voices of the past with the data of the present in order to give foundations little excuse to address and redress historical and ongoing exploitation of Black DMV residents and families.”

“We hope that foundations in the DC area will acknowledge these stories of harm and use the tools included in this report to establish and deepen connections with local groups and organizations and contribute financial resources and social capital for reparative action,” said NCRP President and CEO Aaron Dorfman. “These collective efforts are crucial for the immediate and long-term healing of impacted Black communities in the region.”

Regional funder if, A Foundation for Radical Possibility, is one of eight foundations included in the report as illustrative of the role that the sector has historically played in the systemic limiting of opportunities of local Black residents. They provided the lion’s share of funding for the report soon after embarking on their own journey into the foundation’s wealth generation and past actions.

“This report illustrates if’s commitment to racial justice, which requires accountability for injustice, both past and present. We are holding ourselves accountable for the harm we have caused,” said if Co-CEOs, Hanh Le and Temi F. Bennett. “Addressing anti-Blackness is ground zero for racial justice in America. Given the backlash to the alleged “racial reckoning” of 2020, our sector is in fight or flight mode. if is fighting, always. We invite others to join us.”

Although discussions about reparations for Black people have existed since the U.S. Civil War, the current movement for reparations has picked up steam in recent years with cities like Evanston, Ill. and states like California creating their own commissions and reports to help quantify the harm done and propose healing solutions. In philanthropy, recent articles by the BridgeSpan Group and Liberation Ventures and webinars by Justice Funders, Philanthropy Northwest and Decolonizing Wealth have made additional cases for reparations role in building a culture of repair and redress as foundations more deeply explore the impact of their initial seed capital.

Local organizers, like DC Movement for Black Lives Policy Table Coordinator Christian Beauvoir, see foundations’ role in reparations both as natural moral and practical extensions of their charitable missions.

“Every institution that claims to value Black people has a responsibility to make right every time that it has not,” said Beauvoir. “But reparations is more than just a legal framework for responding to harm. It says I see the violence that your ancestors endured when they deserved care, I see the discrimination they experienced when they deserved homes, schools, or doctors and because these histories still live in your DNA and in the institutions that surround you, I am committed to repairing what I have destroyed.”

“Philanthropy’s history of wealth generation presents a unique opportunity and responsibility,” says report author and NCRP Research Manager for Special Projects Katherine Ponce. “We hope this report and its community-centered research framework persuades – and, if necessary, pressures — decision-makers to shifting social and economic resources back to those whose rights, livelihoods and safety have been unjustly stripped away through historical actions reflecting structural anti-Black racism.”

The Need to Acknowledge and Address Past Harm Directly

Past research by NCRP and others have noted philanthropy’s general underfunding of Black communities and Black-led institutions and non-profits. Yet increased funding to Black communities and racial justice work – while critical – is not the same as reckoning with harm done to specific Black people through the wealth origins of an individual institution.

Cracks in the Foundation looks to catalyze that process by (re)centering the conversation on those most impacted and harmed back by the wealth that was directly and indirectly generated through systemic racism and discrimination.

“By compiling, contextualizing and publishing biographical and other historical information about the origins of philanthropic wealth, the stories of harm experienced by Black people become unavoidable and, more importantly, actionable – especially for funders with a commitment to racial equity or racial justice,” writes Ponce. “Research that connects and centers stories of local Black communities can generate energy, opportunities, and concrete actions for foundations to engage in reparations and healing efforts. This report is both an invitation and a roadmap for local foundations – studied and otherwise – to do exactly that.”

DC native and NCRP Board Chair Dr. Dwayne Proctor sees the report as a crucial tool for funders to both address past harms and create a more equitable future for everyone.

“This report speaks to generations of history of Black people in the region and the throughlines to their oppression. I am encouraged to read a report that not only tells these stories but applies them to new and tested frameworks,” said Dr. Proctor, who also services as the President and CEO of the Missouri Foundation for Health. “If readers can connect the overlaps between the social determinants of health and the necessary healing of Black families today – real and transformative conversations about repair can begin.”

Local Feedback and Input

Ponce and NCRP researchers consulted with local academics, community leaders and oral history experts like the DC History Center. In cases where researchers could connect sufficient public evidence to a specific foundation, NCRP offered those foundations an opportunity to respond and identify current levels of related funding.

For previous Horning Family Foundation Board Member Andy Horning, conversations into the past are both personal and professional as the family foundation wades through a year of reflection and paused operations. As place-based foundation whose grantmaking is explicitly dedicated to centering Black people and Black communities in Washington, DC, he understands that there is no way around the vulnerability that comes with facing and doing something about the past.

“For white people, undoing racism and understanding white supremacy is a critical first step when they engage in philanthropy. It isn’t easy work,” says Horning. “Expect a direct challenge to who you are and have seen yourself to be. It requires incredible courage to step forward into the discomfort AND deep self-compassion when it inevitably becomes difficult. Its a reckoning, a grappling with the hard new reality of understanding ourselves and the world white supremacy has created.”

Dorfman acknowledges that the report will be uncomfortable even to the most progressive leaders and board members.

“We understand that for many organizations, this report will be personal. Founder legacies are complicated and this kind of reckoning process forces everyone connected to a foundation to be vulnerable,” says Dorfman. “But we also hope that foundations both mentioned and unmentioned will seize the chance to not only to exercise responsibility, but to also provide courage to those in their sector who may want to act, but do not know where to start.”

Although the report’s immediate focus is the Washington, DC area, the report’s methodology and recommendations can also serve as a model for funders and organizers in other cities and regions. The framework, community-centered process, and suggested actions also have potential applications not just for philanthropy, but for any institution in the public or private sector grappling with these uncomfortable, but necessary questions.

“This research stands on the shoulders of the generations of advocates that have been dreaming and implementing interventions in philanthropy that disrupt and transform the status quo,” says Jennie Goldfarb, Director of Operations & Strategic Engagement at Liberation Ventures. “Right now, foundations have a chance to model holistic repair. This report is the first step and I’m so proud of everyone involved in bringing this across the finish line. My hope is it fuels a movement of funders committed to truth telling and being in right relationship with each other and the organizations they fund.”

ABOUT NCRP

The National Committee for Responsive Philanthropy (NCRP) has served as philanthropy’s critical friend and independent watchdog since 1976. We work with foundations, non-profits, social justice movements and other leaders to ensure that the sector is transparent with, and accountable to, those with the least wealth, power and opportunity in American society.

Our storytelling, advocacy, and research efforts, in partnership with grantees, help funders fulfill their moral and practical duty to build, share, and wield economic resources and power to serve public purposes in pursuit of justice.

The following is a transcript of Episode 3 of NCRP’s video series, Unpacking Philanthropy.

Check out the video here on LinkedIn.

Hello, and welcome to Unpacking Philanthropy. I’m Aaron Dorfman. 

For the past several years, there has been a lot of talk in philanthropy about “racial healing.” Much of the conversation was driven by the W.K. Kellogg foundation.

I was skeptical of this concept at first. Some of you may have been, too. Some you still may be.

The concept of racial healing seemed fuzzy to me, and of limited utility and no nutritional value. Kind of like the outer shell of a lychee fruit.

You see, I’ve devoted the past 30 years of my life to pursuing social, racial and economic justice. The driving force of my work has been to help communities build enough power to change systems and policies.

I sought tangible, sweet victories that improved people’s lives. I celebrated wins like the passage of the Affordable Care Act, Marriage Equality, and increases in the minimum wage. To me, those were and are the sweet fruit of the lychee, not the fuzzy red outer shell.

In my 50s, I still want those tangible policy changes that help us become a more fair and just society. I want them more now than ever.

But the truth is, racial healing is more like a peach than a lychee. The outside of a peach might not look like much. But it has great nutritional value, too. No one peels a peach before eating it. Its outer shell is just as delicious and – like racial healing – as essential as the rest of the fruit.

According to the Kellogg Foundation, Racial Healing is a process that helps us repair the damage caused by racism and restore communities to wholeness. And truth-telling about past harms is essential to the process.

So what changed my perspective?

In 2021 and 2022, I participated in the Racial Healing Certificate Program offered by the School of Community Philanthropy at the Clinton School for Public Service at the University of Arkansas.

We had an amazing cohort for the inaugural run of this new program, and incredible faculty advisors like John Powell and Manuel Pastor.

We went on a learning tour that took us to Little Rock, Arkansas and Montgomery, Alabama.

As I toured the National Memorial for Peace and Justice in Montgomery, I allowed myself to be fully present as I soaked in all the names of people who had been lynched, including in places where I’ve lived.

At The Legacy Museum, I was moved by the exhibits showing our path from Enslavement to Mass Incarceration.

In Little Rock, I learned more than the few paragraphs I was taught in school about the brutal reaction to integrating Little Rock High School.

Some would have us believe that the harms of slavery and segregation are in the distant past. But they aren’t past. And until we deal openly and honestly with those harms, we can’t heal and move forward into a more lush future where everyone thrives.

Where – and how does philanthropy begin to reckon honestly with past harms? Later this month, NCRP will look to help answer those questions when we release our Reckoning Initiative report. We’ve been studying how fortunes that make philanthropy possible were built on exploitation and harm to Black people. We’ll publish the stories that too few of us know and invite foundations to reflect on the uncomfortable truths that our research unearths.

onest truth-telling is a first step towards healing. To build a sweet, delicious future and move our society towards justice we have to be honest about the harms of the past.

I invite you to be bold, friends, and come on this journey with us.