We’re barely a month past the 2024 election, and the hot takes are flying. But a clear theme is already emerging.

Former Hewlett program officer Daniel Stid captured it recently for the Chronicle of Philanthropy. In his op-ed, he calls on philanthropy to stop “funding the resistance” to Trumpism and instead “support pluralism in civil society.” The key to a healthy democracy, he argues, is to turn away from “the high-octane, all-or-nothing advocacy and activism” that have plagued the country since 2016 and are “further stoking the fires” of polarization.

Arguments like these misjudge the purpose of vital, community-led work and the movements that arise from it. They mistake centrism for pluralism, and they advocate neutrality at a time when speaking truth to power is necessary, not optional, for democracy.

It also won’t work as a strategy. An unapologetically brave, consistent, and vocal solidarity with social justice movements is the best thing funders can do now.

Here’s why.

Backlash by another name

Donor funding for equity and social justice movements has been wildly overstated. But some commentators insist that supporting these approaches at any level is counterproductive. These strategies are inherently polarizing, they argue, and that’s the reason our democratic norms are the mess they are today.

If this is the concern, let’s get specific. What exactly counts as polarizing? Is this what they fear will worsen the health of our democracy?

• Is it helping immigrants, refugees and asylum seekers access legal services, prevent family separation, and chart a path to citizenship?

• Is it making sure that queer people aren’t discriminated against in housing and in workplaces, and that trans people can live in joy without fear of state or personal violence?

• Is vital healthcare like abortion access, doula support, and Black maternal health practices the issue?

• Are community-led fights for clean air, clean water, and a cooler climate the culprit?

• Perhaps reducing the racial and gender wealth gap or telling complete stories about our history is the problem?

For my money each of these examples, and many more like them, create a more truly pluralist world, not less. They all ensure that people too often kept from seats of power have a fair shot at correcting past imbalances and improving our collective norms, culture and policies. As a bonus, everyone tends to benefit from this approach too, in the same way that parents with strollers and workers with carts benefit from the curb-cuts that disabled activists spent years fighting for.

Yet even if these approaches are polarizing to some, isn’t that a strange metric for a worthy cause or good grant? Creating a better, more just world often makes enemies. Power concedes nothing without a demand, and demands aren’t made to make the powerful comfortable. Sixty years on from the March on Washington, it’s worth remembering that the civil rights movement of the mid-20th century was incredibly polarizing. It was also, to state the obvious, worth doing anyway – as are the fights for continued liberation today.

Funding, for starters, still has a long way to go. Institutional grantmakers devoted less than 20% of their dollars to low-income people, 15% to communities of color, and 3% to immigrants and refugees in 2021 according to NCRP analysis of Candid data. Research suggests only about 0.5% ($356 million) of foundation dollars are explicitly given for Black women and girls and 0.25% ($258 million) for LGBTQ communities.

Grassroots organizers and social justice movement groups also struggle to find consistent funding year-to-year, especially in rural, conservative places. It’s a stark contrast to the long-term support far-right institutions have enjoyed for generations. Between 2015 and 2021, for example, we found that “more than two dozen nonprofits focused specifically on undermining electoral, liberal and economic democracy increased their fundraising three-fold to over $500 million per year.” In 2022 alone, just eight right-wing funders moved over $530 million to organizations working to roll back civil and human rights and undermine real pluralism.

Even progressive funders are often unwilling to relinquish control for general operating support and multi-year grants. Many, if they’re honest, care more about the story their grants tell than the ecosystem they’re a humble part of.

And while foundation staff are finally beginning to better represent the rest of the country, the foundation board members who call the shots at most foundations are decisively not a pluralistic reflection of the country’s demographic, geographic or ideological diversity – they’re usually far whiter, more male and more conservative than most Americans.

If anything, we’re on the threshold of an even more plutocratic era in philanthropy. Billionaires’ influence is rising, and donor transparency is on the decline. Thankfully, more funders embrace the vision of a just transition than they did a decade ago. But very few funders explicitly back alternatives to the dysfunctional capitalist system that bankrolled their rise.

When funding for equity and justice has been so inconsistent with philanthropy’s means, are we really surprised that we have plenty of work left to do? To suggest the solution, now, is to turn off the sprinkler when communities on the ground have long called for a fire hose is misguided at best and unconscionable at worst.

There’s progress worth celebrating, to be sure. But it’s important to see these as the hopeful breaks from the norm that they are. Otherwise, by over-stating their progress, funders will fail to accurately see the world in front of them, retreating to a supposedly safe corner of centrism that does not exist.

Appeasement is not a winning strategy.

There are plenty of funders who care more about supporting movements effectively than the false virtue of avoiding polarization, but they’re apprehensive. They look at last year’s affirmative action ruling, and they ask their lawyers to go much further. They see the shameless attacks on the Fearless Fund, and they claw back their own racial equity language. They see the spike in xenophobia and ask grantees to strike the word “immigrant” from applications. They see the outrage over the genocide in Gaza and pull funds from groups who speak out at all. They hear the incoming president promise to squash the hint of dissent, and they wonder how far they can retreat into the shadows. This is a mistake.

First, there’s no guarantee that a silent tongue or a defensive crouch will leave foundations and donors unscathed. Supposedly centrist funders may be surprised to find that it’s not just “woke” scapegoats with a target on their back. That’s why I was glad recently to see several industry groups take a stand, and that work must continue.

Second, at this moment, few are better positioned to take risks than philanthropy. Shoring up legal defenses is a legitimately good idea – but only if it enables bolder action and greater solidarity, not a white flag and bent knee.

Don’t just take my word for it either. Leading scholars of authoritarianism like Timothy David Snyder are clear: “Do not obey in advance.” When people “think ahead about what a more repressive government will want, and then offer themselves without being asked,” he notes, they’re only “teaching power what it can do.”

Instead, funders’ priority should be making sure people on the ground have what they need and more. Paul Di Donato at Proteus lays out several great recommendations, from physical and digital security to compliance and mental health supports. Grants and endowments, after all, are replaceable. Lives are not.

At NCRP, we’re pursuing the same thing we’ve always wanted: a world where the public good prevails and anyone can thrive, regardless of wealth, privilege, or opportunity.

We’re pretty sure how to get there, too. We know from our high-quality research, through our lived experience fighting for justice – and because it’s not rocket science.

For nearly 50 years, we’ve found that funders have the greatest impact when they acknowledge their history, build transformative relationships, and honor communities closest to harm. The best ones build, share, wield, and yes, even cede power so folks can provide needed services, organize deeply, and build movements that challenge and remake the unjust systems that affect all our lives. And the few visionaries really listening?

They show up not just for a year or two at a time but for a generation and beyond, consistently returning the assets that were never solely theirs in the first place.

That necessary work persists, no matter who’s in office.

Let’s keep going.

Ben Barge is NCRP’s Field Director. In this role, Barge strengthens NCRP’s relationships with U.S. social movements and philanthropic organizations to move money and power to community-led advocacy and organizing.

In national discussions around political empowerment, large swaths of the public often forget about Indigenous communities. Despite the systemic overlook of Native voters, past election cycles have proven the power of the Native Vote in swing states to shift electoral outcomes – most recently seen in Arizona during 2020.

The outcome of the 2024 Election is crucial for many reasons – with the looming threat against women’s & LGBTQ2S+’s bodily autonomy, freedom of speech, and essentially, democracy – it also presents a new level of adversity to Indigenous sovereignty and self-determination. As Indigenous leaders, organizers, and community members, this is the time to come together to envision a sustainable effort that places strategic activism, resource mobilization, capacity building, and narrative change as means to build Native community political power. As a movement-building organization, NDN Collective knows that grassroots organizing is integral to the building of Indigenous power and community self-determination, which can then be exercised at the polls and beyond.

This multifaceted approach involves collective power building through political education, coalition building, rematriation of resources, and political advocacy, we aim to support full and effective participation in the democratic process and preservation of fundamental rights, and the rights of Indigenous Peoples.

As Nwamaka Agbo (CEO of Kataly Foundation) stated in her recent piece in The Chronicle of Philanthropy: “We must sustain the organizations that pursue civic engagement work, particularly outside election seasons, when many politicians forget the platitudes they made to poor and working-class communities in exchange for votes.”

Practitioners, those who have been doing the work for generations, deserve to be supported and trusted by Philanthropy that they know best for their community. This leads us to underscore the critical importance of funding grassroots social movements, and the role funders can play at the core of building Native political power. Sustainable, multi-year, unrestricted funding through philanthropy, is necessary for fostering political engagement, supporting community initiatives, and maintaining advocacy efforts. The advancement of Indigenous political engagement requires a true desire from funders who value long-term commitment, to engage in partnerships with organizations that continue to lead such efforts. Sustainable funding allows for long-term strategic planning, fostering a robust infrastructure that can adapt and respond to emerging challenges. Without it [commitment], philanthropy will continue to invest according to trends that fail to produce real, systemic change.

As organizers, we understand there is an inherent level of danger that our work entails and with the current political climate, we have to anticipate the potential rise of violence near the polls. Incorporating safety and wellness plans into movement strategies is the reality for many grassroots organizers, and it will be critical that Native-led organizations focused on building political power are well-resourced for this work. Philanthropy has historically underinvested in initiatives that prioritize Indigenous leadership and self-determination, and we expect this challenge and others to remain as we move through this election cycle. Funders and philanthropy must be dedicated to ensuring that Indigenous communities feel fully supported and empowered to exercise their self-determination.

Indigenous Peoples’ rights, struggles, and solutions must be taken into account in the forums that shape policies. By building stronger partnerships across different movements and with policymakers, it’s imperative to aim toward making sure that our policy needs and demands are understood and met. Increased participation in these diverse movement spaces, ensures that Indigenous People are fully involved in vital intersectional discussions, strategies, and policymaking.

Ultimately, the empowerment of our social movements is intrinsically linked to the availability and management of financial resources, making them a cornerstone of achieving change. This is precisely why it’s philanthropy’s responsibility to rematriate wealth back to the hands of communities. When our organizations are resourced, we can better organize, campaign, and lobby for policies that reflect the interests and protect the rights of Indigenous people.

Kellian Staggers (She/Her), Diné (Navajo) and Black, is deeply invested in Indigenous-focused policy development that promotes equitable conditions for all peoples. As an Advancement Officer with NDN Collective, Kellian serves as an advocate in donor relations that bolsters resource reallocation to Indigenous-led advocacy and infrastructure development efforts. While obtaining a Bachelor of Arts from Columbia University, Kellian supported Indigenous youth communities through educational policy development and Admissions student outreach. Her commitment to resource rematriation and policy reform underscores a determination to create sustainable systemic change. 

Reflecting on two thought-provoking articles from my LinkedIn feed—Brenda Solorzano’s Rigorous Evaluation Versus Trust-Based Learning: Is This a Valid Dichotomy? (highlighted by Catherine Garcia last month) and Lora Smith’s How to Flip the Script on Foundation Reporting—I’m struck by their critiques of the status quo in philanthropic evaluation. Both pieces challenge traditional methods rooted in capitalist ROI frameworks, which often prioritize the perspectives and interests of white people. As Jara Dean-Coffey’s work lays out, these frameworks stem from the practices of wealthy, white male industrialists and reinforce power imbalances, ignoring context and the unpredictable, long-term nature of social change.

Both Solorzano and Smith emphasize that funder accountability is crucial, particularly given the historical origins and ongoing impact of philanthropic wealth amassed at the expense of marginalized communities. NCRP’s Cracks in the Foundation research, led by my colleague Katherine Ponce and funded by iF, A Foundation for Radical Possibility, shows how the wealth fueling philanthropy in the DC area was amassed at the expense of Black residents. Smith highlights a staggering statistic: in 2020, US foundations invested $1.2 trillion in global extractive markets while distributing only $88.6 billion to grantees.

Several equitable evaluation approaches can help subvert dominant power dynamics and prioritize community autonomy. This sampling falls short of a complete offering, but includes:

• The Equitable Evaluation Framework ensures that evaluation practices serve equity by prioritizing multicultural validity, participant ownership, and examining historical and structural factors that contribute to social inequities.

• Made in Africa Evaluation prioritizes Indigenous knowledge and local contexts, promoting evaluation methods that reflect African relational approaches while challenging Western-centric practices.

• Culturally-Responsive and Equitable Evaluation (CREE) integrates diversity, inclusion, and equity throughout evaluation by considering cultural and contextual factors in a participatory process that empowers affected communities and drives meaningful change.

• Quantitative Critical Race Theory equips researchers with critical practices for rethinking data collection and analysis, highlighting biases in numbers and categories, emphasizing diverse voices, and promoting social justice to foster equity.

When employed intentionally, these methods can better prioritize the autonomy of frontline communities and emphasize the importance of critiquing how funding relationships impact movement and program strategies and outcomes. Evaluators must pay attention to power dynamics and advocate for changes where funders yield power to communities, developing learning agendas that focus not only on outcomes but also on the quality of relationships and accountability structures that enable communities and frontline movements to thrive.

Additionally, we often treat funding and evaluation as short-term endeavors that assume a linear path to change. A colleague recently shared a valuable insight he’s learned from our work together: “Change is never A, then B, then C. It’s X, then A (‘F you’), and then 7!” This captures the essence of social change—it’s complex and non-linear. In advocacy work, short-term outcomes frequently fail to reflect the deeper impact of movement-building. Significant victories can take years to materialize, and essential groundwork like base-building often happens beneath the surface.

Focusing solely on immediate outcomes risks undermining long-term strategies for deep, systemic change. Echoing principles rooted in Black feminism, as advocated by adrienne marie brown and others who promote adaptive and emergent strategies, we must recognize that effective evaluation models can embrace complexity and uncertainty. Approaches like developmental evaluation facilitate continuous feedback and learning, ensuring our strategies remain responsive to the evolving landscape of social change. Such evaluations respect the nonlinear paths of progress and can honor the collective wisdom of communities as they navigate challenges and opportunities.

Ultimately, we must rethink our approach to learning and accountability within philanthropy and evaluation. It is essential to shift our focus from short-term outputs to long-term, sustainable change that allows communities to control their own futures. To enact real change, funders should embrace the five-point action plan outlined in Cracks in the Foundation: confront the historical harms associated with their wealth, engage directly with impacted communities, make reparations, decolonize institutional policies and practices, and advocate publicly for broader reparations. As evaluators, especially those of us who have benefited from racial capitalism, we need to align our practices with these transformative changes. While there is no straightforward roadmap for this journey, prioritizing equity and justice in our evaluation efforts will pave the way for a more just and liberated future where communities—not funders—hold the power.

Adrianne Glover (they/she) is a values-driven learning and evaluation strategist with over nine years of experience in culturally responsive and equitable evaluation. Formerly the Evaluation Manager at NCRP, she led the development of strategic learning systems to support the organization’s theory of change. Prior to NCRP, they worked as an evaluation consultant with Creative Research Solutions and various domestic and international nonprofit organizations to foster equitable practices and drive transformative, systemic change. Deeply committed to advocacy, community care, and accountability, she uses data to tell impactful data-driven stories about social movements. Based in the Atlanta metro area on Muscogee (Creek) land, Adrianne enjoys spending time in community through relationships, events, and organizing and connecting with the earth. 

In the wake of the murder of George Floyd, social uprisings and the broader racial reckoning sweeping the country, many organizations have had to look inward at their own institutional practices to address both conscious and unconscious racial biases. None moreso than the nonprofit and philanthropic sector, where DEI statements grace the homepages of websites and interviewers boast of equitable hiring practices that encourage diversity. Make no mistake, this is great work- and we need to continue to push further. Especially when it comes to supporting new BIPOC, and in particular, Black women executive leadership.

Meanwhile, studies have found that nearly 30% of nonprofits have programs that primarily serve Black and/or African American people. This gap shows that there is still some room to grow in terms of representation and alignment of leadership with the needs of the populations nonprofits seek to serve.

Hiring a Black woman leader is a great first step, but the work doesn’t end there. There should be open-mindedness and respect for the ways that Black women want to lead. This may differ from how things were traditionally done in the past. It could mean less hierarchical organizational practices and making room for more meaningful collaboration, joint decision making and establishing a broader set of thought partners for moving the work forward. In philanthropy, it could mean funding organizations that have previously not been funded and centering qualitative and relationship-based engagement with grantees instead of primarily relying on data-driven written reports. It could mean check-in calls with grantees to learn about their work and offering wrap-around organizational support so they can continue to grow.

As Black executive leaders, we often have to do more with less. According to a 2020 report by the Bridgespan consulting firm and the leadership capacity-building organization, Echoing Green, organizations led by people of color are awarded less grant money and are less trusted to make decisions on how to spend funds than organizations with white leaders.

Their report also found that organizations led by white individuals had budgets 24% larger than people of color, and organizations led by Black women received less funding compared to those led by Black men and white women. Think about what a difference this 24% could make—it would be a gamechanger for some organizations.

In addition to less organizational resources, Black women are also paid less. According to the Race to Lead report by the Building Movement Project, 49% of executive directors and CEOs of color reported issues with inadequate salary, compared to 34% of white leaders surveyed. On a national scale, the situation remains hardly unchanged— in their 2024 annual report released on Black Women’s Equal Pay Day, the Institute for Women’s Policy Research found that Black women earn 66 cents for every dollar earned by white men.

Ensure Black Women Leaders Truly Thrive

Finally, in any executive leadership role you are tasked with managing a set of expectations and essential job duties. This includes strategic visioning, staff management, fundraising, financial oversight, and board relations and governance among others. As Black women leaders, we are also tasked with managing the implicit expectations of the communities we represent. The field expects that as a funder, and a funder that looks like them, that you have the power and ability to revolutionize philanthropy. Staff have the expectation that because you’re a Black woman, you have the power and ability to revolutionize their workplace.

The broader philanthropic space expects you to say all the things about racial equity and represent it, but then not be held accountable for operationalizing it. It’s a lot to hold. And the data confirms it—The Race to Lead report found that 53% of BIPOC executive leaders felt that they were called to represent their entire community, versus 23% of their white counterparts.

Black women do it all, and we continue to do it all. But there are concrete steps the broader philanthropic and nonprofit sector can take to ensure that Black women leaders can truly thrive in their role:

Equal work deserves equal pay. At a minimum, pay incoming Black women executive leaders the same amount as their white and/or male predecessors. If we are expected to take on a greater amount of work, whether that is raising more funds, supervising more staff, or expanding new programs and initiatives. #BlackGirlMagic is a reflection of talent, intelligence, and skill— and it’s time that it is fairly compensated in the workplace. And by the way, it ain’t magic, it’s really hard work. 

Respect our vision. Approach us with less questioning and more understanding. Don’t ask us to jump through countless hoops and provide endless data sets and statistics just to show that our point is valid. Know that we are qualified and equally capable as other leaders, even though we may look and run things differently.

Provide a supportive environment. When Black professionals have a leadership role, and in particular Black women, failure is not an option. Provide coaching and other professional development opportunities for incoming executive leaders of color. Make yourself available for one-on-one meetings and relationship building. During meetings, think about who is in the room or who else could be in the room (ie other people of color). Help new Black executive leaders cultivate relationships with the existing funder and donor relationships the previous director had.

By enacting these practices, philanthropy can empower Black executive leaders to break through glass ceilings, rather than fall from glass cliffs.

Jennifer Epps is Executive Director of The LIFT Fund, a prominent and unique philanthropic collaborative focused on worker rights and power by catalyzing deeper collaboration and investment between unions, philanthropy, movement-building community organizations, and academia. Under Epps’ leadership, the LIFT Fund supports innovative, bold strategies of worker organizing across the United States to build a stronger worker and labor movement.