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Last year was a challenging, and at times unbearable, year for marginalized members of our community. Dec. 12 marked the six-month anniversary of the devastating tragedy at Pulse nightclub in Orlando targeting LGBTQ people of color – a moment that left many shell shocked, traumatized and in a state of uncertainty.

Those feelings resurfaced the morning after the elections. The same people that the Pulse shooting targeted, our Latinx and undocumented families, friends, neighbors and their loved ones, and all those that suffered from the effects of xenophobia, Islamophobia and racism that were promoted on the national stage and spread into our local community, are left wondering what will become of their lives come Jan. 20.

As we prepare for the challenges ahead for the people that mirror those from the Pulse tragedy and their families living with anxiety and insecurity in an America where hate speech and violence have been normalized, we reflect on the lessons we’ve learned from that moment when leaders in philanthropy and the community unified following the Pulse tragedy to thoughtfully support those most deeply and directly impacted on their long journey of healing and empowerment.

The Contigo Fund, an initiative of Our Fund Foundation, was born out of that need and purpose. Because a national coalition of foundations – including the Ford Foundation, the Open Society Foundations, the W.K. Kellogg Foundation, the Arcus Foundation, the Annie E. Casey Foundation, the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation, the Executives’ Alliance to Expand Opportunities for Boys and Men of Color and Our Fund Foundation – stepped forward to be responsive to the communities most directly impacted, an often underserved community has critical resources necessary to support the most marginalized and oppressed as they recover and in anticipation of the challenging days ahead.

Following the tragedy, a team of representatives from foundations, in partnership with members of the local community, teamed up to carefully conduct a philanthropic community needs assessment interviewing local philanthropic and nonprofit leaders and, most importantly, members of the community who were directly and deeply affected by the tragedy.

The assessment provided us perspective on conditions prior to and following the Pulse massacre, recognizing the longstanding institutional inequalities that existed before the shooting, and were terribly exacerbated by the shooting, as well as the significant disparities communities of color in Florida face. Through extensive community feedback, the Contigo Fund was born with a vital purpose and developed principles and goals to guide its efforts.

Guiding Principles:

  • We honor the identities and lived experiences of those taken from us. A majority of those affected were of Latinx and African diaspora backgrounds. Some were undocumented. More than half were under 30, with the youngest victim being just 18.
  • We recognize the significant disparities faced by our communities shaped by longstanding institutional inequalities. We will work to address these disparities.
  • We trust that transformative and lasting change can occur if communities unify. The fund seeks to build bridges across Central Florida’s diverse communities and to raise awareness of homophobia, transphobia, Islamophobia, racism and other forms of bigotry that divide our communities.

Three Main Goals:

  1. Support the efforts of those that were predominantly impacted by the Pulse tragedy, including advancing the causes of our communities and particularly efforts led by and for by leaders who represent our communities.
  2. Strengthen Central Florida by building bridges among its diverse and marginalized communities.
  3. Address the ripple effects of the Pulse tragedy, particularly involving issues of Islamophobia, xenophobia and racism.

To accomplish our goals, we prioritized identifying authentic leadership from the local community that could work with Our Fund Foundation and the community to lay the groundwork to thoughtfully create a community-led participatory grant making model.

In addition, we determined, based on our on-the-ground assessment, that we needed to develop a process for proactive grantmaking to sustain a relatively small number of emerging groups and key organizations while we develop a more robust grant distribution program driven by the local community.

We quickly developed a rapid response fund as an emergency fund supporting emerging leaders, groups, organizations and coalitions. The focus was to help grow and sustain these emerging, nascent efforts that did not exist prior to the tragedy due to the scarcity resources.

We determined that we would identify and recruit a Grant Committee of 12 extraordinary leaders to guide the distribution of the grants and that it would be made up of leaders from the local community and include those most impacted by the tragedy. Seventy-five percent of the members are LGBTQ people of color with representation from the Latinx, Black, transgender, undocumented and immigrant communities. Through their input we established the grant committee’s purpose, goals and structure, and the scope of the request for proposals application and decision-making process for a more robust grant distribution.

Our experience holds various lessons learned and best practices of how national funders can positively show up in Southern communities. We have developed an innovative model that is community-driven, intersectional and focused on long-term impact and on healing a community wounded by a tragedy that includes several unique components:

  • A participatory grantmaking model in which members of the communities most impacted by the tragedy drive decisions.
  • Rapid response funding that provides flexible support for organizations to facilitate community healing and recovery.
  • A capacity-building strategy that works to assure that the response to the tragedy is not only short-term but also fosters a sustainable infrastructure for social change and empowerment of the region’s marginalized communities.

Orlando’s philanthropic efforts are a model on how funders can proactively and thoughtfully respond to a tragedy and work to rebuild and meaningfully transform a fractured community following a crisis by centering those most affected and those most likely to be left out of the conversation and decision-making process.

Marco Antonio Quiroga is the program director at Contigo Fund. 

Scrolling through the daily barrage of philanthropy-related news releases, I often encounter numerous articles from large foundations announcing prizes, summits and fellowships. Indeed, these are all noteworthy organizations doing significant and impactful work, but should donors looking to support nonprofits only look to large foundations and ignore micro-philanthropies? Are prospective donors aware of the benefits of working with a micro-philanthropy when it comes to impact and engagement?

Following a Different Path

As the co-founder and executive director of The Good People Fund, I believe that too often donors overlook organizations such as ours that specifically address the needs of these small grassroots efforts, who by their very nature lack the means to be visible to larger numbers of donors despite the effectiveness of their work. With grants totaling nearly $8 million during the past eight years and a modest infrastructure, I like to believe that we are changing the philanthropic landscape.

The Good People Fund is an organization that works exclusively with small grassroots nonprofits started by inspiring individuals committed to changing the world. In the past eight years, more than 150 grantees, all small to mid-sized organizations, have benefited from our insight and support.

Each operates with low overhead and on a personal scale, developing creative solutions that address poverty, hunger, disability, trauma recovery, social isolation and other significant challenges, but whose work would otherwise go unsupported. At The Good People Fund our vision is clear: Help donors do a maximum of good with each dollar spent by connecting donors with the Good Person (grantee) whose work best realizes their personal giving goals.

Emphasis on Direct Mentorship and Guidance

What makes our work both unusual and highly effective is the strong personal relationships we build with grantees. I strongly believe in our 4S model: Scope (focusing on programs that address a wide range of social needs), Screening (carefully vetting each prospective grantee), Supervision (mentoring and guidance continues well beyond the issuance of a check) and Speed (working efficiently and with minimal bureaucracy).

What we emphasize to both grantees and donors about our philosophy is that a newly established or a smaller scale nonprofit has their best chance of success if they can take advantage of the benefits of a personal connection; a mentor to guide them in addition to the shared experiences of other successful nonprofits. This connection to direct mentorship and guidance is too often overlooked by donors. We are very closely tied in to the grantees’ work in ways that larger entities can not be.

With so many years of involvement with small nonprofits, I find donors appreciate the strategic perspective we provide and grantees appreciate the unique way we handle their needs. We have established a deep network and general knowledge of the nonprofit world and take pride in facilitating partnerships, connecting people and programs, and offering guidance and expertise.

“I have been supporting the work of the Good People Fund since it began back in 2008,” explained one long-time donor. “I believe in its mission and have seen first hand how my donation can directly impact this work. They are attuned to what is important to me as a donor and I appreciate the guidance they provide in selecting to support an organization that shares in my values.”

Traditionally, funders donate, step away and perhaps ask for a report on how their funds were used. The Good People Fund works on a much more personal level and believes that our model could play an even more significant role in philanthropy today. It is not just about site-visits and grant reports; relationship building, hands-on support and acting as a partner, collaborator, advocate and sounding board for both donors and grantees is essential to our model’s success.

Naomi Eisenberger co-founded The Good People Fund in 2008 and became its first executive director. Follow @goodpeoplefund on Twitter.

Image by Cliff, used under Creative Commons license.

Many of us are still reeling from last month’s election results. Some of us reacted with deep feelings of fear, sadness, demoralization and hopelessness. Now there are many questions and musings about which way forward.

Two things are clear from the election: The first is that foundations and grantmaking vehicles are not clearly understood by the general public. Second, now more than ever, race and racial equity are the defining issues of our time – particularly as they relate to philanthropy.

What can philanthropy do to actualize its commitment to issues of justice and fairness? One option is a racial equity audit.

A racial equity audit can be a powerful leadership tool to uncover, recognize and change inequities that are internal to your institution. This in turn could heighten effectiveness in challenging racial inequities external to your institution on the road to challenging other discrimination-based inequities more broadly in your work.

Lighthouse Philanthropy Advisors, where I work, recently conducted a racial equity audit for Grantmakers in the Arts (GIA). GIA is a national membership organization of arts and culture funders that highlights issues that impact, improve and strengthen arts philanthropy.

Since 2008, GIA has been elevating racial equity and social justice as a critical issue affecting the field. In 2013, its board approved a motion to make racial equity an organizational priority, and in the spring of 2015, GIA released its Racial Equity in Arts Philanthropy Statement of Purpose, which was a culmination of four years of work, discussion and commitment.

GIA sought to “walk its talk” by undergoing an internal (hiring practices, human resource policies) and external (member programs, board composition) audit to set benchmarks and long-term plans to operationalize its commitment to racial equity.

Our goal was to provide GIA’s staff and board members with a basic roadmap for making concrete and doable changes that would move both the organization and the field forward to advance racial equity, while maintaining the collaboration and cohesion of key stakeholders.

We began the process by establishing three lines of inquiry that would undergird the audit:

  • Has GIA established racial equity as an organizational priority in internal policy documents? How does it evaluate its racial equity work and monitor progress towards achieving internal racial equity? How is staff/leadership accountable internally and to whom, and how is GIA accountable externally?
  • How is racial equity reflected internally in GIA’s governance, language and communications, policies, culture, operations and practices? How effective are these elements in advancing racial equity internally?
  • How does GIA further racial equity externally among its membership through its communications, programs and practices? What is the quality of those elements and what impact are they having?

To answer these questions, Lighthouse reviewed GIA’s internal equity policies, procedures, and programs, as well as its website and other field-oriented communications. We also conducted two surveys, one targeting stakeholder member institutions and another targeting foundation peer groups working in a variety of sectors unrelated to arts and culture. We interviewed a diverse set of representatives of GIA staff, board, funders, learning group members and “un-connected member organizations.”

We then prepared a detailed summary report, including an analysis of key themes, recommendations for incorporating action steps into administrative and programmatic areas, and a compilation of racial equity programs of similar organizations.

What does it take to undertake an effective audit?

  • A willingness to open the organization to outside scrutiny – the ability to bare its soul.
  • The ability to both take decisive leadership and take direction from its constituency.
  • A deep commitment from the organizational leadership to take this work on over the long haul because cultural and systemic change takes time.

Has your foundation undergone a racial equity audit? Tell us about it in the comments.

Leticia Alcantar is a partner at Lighthouse Philanthropy Advisors.

Image from JPhotoStyle.com, used under Creative Commons license.

The recent widespread rallying behind the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe’s fight against the Dakota Access Pipeline (DAPL) along with actress Shailene Woodley’s arrest at the pipeline site has brought a lot new attention to an issue that Indigenous people have been struggling with for generations. The fight to preserve tribal sovereignty and sacred sites has long been at the forefront for Native issues.

The U.S. federal government has obligations to protect tribal lands and resources and to protect tribal rights to self-govern. The U.S. first attempted to terminate reservations in 1946 when Congress set up the Indian Claims Commission to hear Indian claims for any lands stolen from them since the creation of the USA in 1776. The commission’s intention was to “get out of the Indian business” by providing only financial compensation instead of the return of land.

The protection of sacred sites is closely tied to treaty rights and sovereignty. In the past, the government has actively discouraged, and even outlawed, the exercise of traditional Indian ceremonies and practices on their own tribal land. To assume that the land is separate from the cultures erases the long-standing history of how these sites are an intrinsic part of continued practices and beliefs.

As an article by Cultural Survival points out, “Most of the disputes between traditional Indian religious practitioners and federal and state governments were resolved in favor of the government – with a resulting impact upon the ability of practitioner to utilize these sacred sites. For example, cases were decided which permitted the following activities to take place: Development of a ski area on the San Francisco Peaks in Arizona, sacred to the Hopi and Navajos; Construction of viewing platforms, parking lots, trails and roads at Bear Butte in South Dakota, sacred to many Plains Indians; and Flooding of sacred Cherokee sites by the Tennessee Valley Authority.”

Even today, there are struggles Native American communities are facing that are similar to Standing Rock. Bear Butte in Sturgis, South Dakota, is being threatened by encroaching bars and campgrounds. The Rosebud Sioux Tribe and the Black Hills is a well-known struggle and more recently, the tribe has been trying to assert their treaty rights to oppose the transfer of the Black Hills to the state of South Dakota.

In Utah, leaders from five tribes founded the Bears Ears Inter-Tribal Coalition, representing a historic consortium of sovereign tribal nations united in the effort to conserve the Bears Ears buttes cultural landscape, asking Obama to designate the site as a U.S. Presidential National Monument.

After Native American youth first sparked the push back against the DAPL, the Sacred Stone camp at the site of the pipeline has now seen the largest gathering of Native Americans and tribal representatives in more than a hundred years. The camp has been a display of unity and solidarity in Native nations, showing the world the resiliency and endurance of Native Americans, all recognizing that this fight is not just for the local tribes. Choosing to identify themselves as “protectors” instead of “protesters,” those at the frontline are looking at the bigger picture by fighting for a healthier environment for everyone.

With many allies and supporters asking “how can we help?,” Native Americans in Philanthropy (NAP), in partnership with the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe, is extending an opportunity for those wanting to make meaningful, long-term investments that will extend past the national spotlight of the protest. A funder tour from October 19-21 is showing the work happening on the ground for the tribe and ways in which they’re looking for help in their priority areas of youth, environmental justice and health.

how-we-strengthened-meet-the-funders-events-to-help-under-resourced-grant-applicantsSarah Eagle Heart is CEO of Native Americans in Philanthropy (NAP), a nonprofit promoting equitable and effective philanthropy to achieve a vision of healthy and sustainable Native communities. NAP members include Native and non-Native philanthropy, tribal programs, Native nonprofits and national networks, all dedicated to collectively improving equity and well-being for Native peoples across the United States. Follow them on Twitter @NativeGiving.

Photo courtesy of Native Americans in Philanthropy.

“Debra, one of your grantees submitted a proposal to me. It was 20 pages long. The grant guidelines stated a maximum of 12 pages!”  

“Debra, many of the applications that I have received from API nonprofits are very poorly written, so it is difficult to fund these organizations based on the application.”

These are two examples of feedback I’ve heard from my peers as executive director of the Asian Pacific Community Fund (APCF) in Los Angeles. Many of the Asian and Pacific Islander (API) nonprofits in our county are small and need more assistance to access foundation funding.

To address this challenge, we partnered with Asian Americans/Pacific Islanders in Philanthropy – Los Angeles (AAPIP-LA) to hold a “Meet the Funders” (MTF) event earlier this year. Although this is not a new idea, the typical MTF event, such as a panel talking about their grant requirements and the dos and don’ts of applying, doesn’t provide enough information for most API nonprofits to submit a successful grant application. We needed to take it one step further for those we support.

The goals of our event were to provide API nonprofits with all the necessary information to complete a grant application, and to help them understand the landscape in which they are competing for funding.

When I was the development director of a nonprofit, I had to navigate the same waters. I remember reading through all of the information on a foundation’s website multiple times and still wondering whether my program would fall within the guidelines. It would have been so helpful if there was someone I could just pick up the phone and call to say, “This is what my program does … Would it fall under your grantmaking guidelines?”

Our MTF event allowed for this conversation and more to take place. Representatives from the California Wellness, Ralph M. Parsons and Weingart foundations participated in a one-hour panel to discuss topics such as the importance of a well-written and thought-out LOI, calling to find out why an LOI or application was denied, and what is the most effective and efficient way to share information with a funder.

We provided panelists with questions ahead of time to allow them to prepare more thoughtful responses, and we solicited questions from the nonprofits during the registration process. This helped shape the panel discussion to be meaningful to the attendees.

Afterwards, the funders stayed for an additional two hours to meet with nonprofit representatives in 15-minute increments. Nonprofits were prescheduled for these one-on-one appointments, so they were able to prepare for their dedicated time with the funder.

Not only did these sessions allow nonprofits to ask very specific questions about their programs, organizations and situations, but it opened the door for them to build a relationship with foundation staff – to know someone they can call if they have a question and be comfortable that they can do that.

Completing a grant application often requires a lot of resources, so it’s just as valuable to know when not to submit. Because this was our first time offering the one-one-one sessions, we were not sure how the funders would respond, but they were all very open to the idea. There were some concerns that attendees would walk away with the impression that they would be funded, but we instructed the funders to be very honest and frank with the nonprofits; if the answer would be “no” or “not likely,” then that is what they needed to share.

In the end, feedback about the event was overwhelmingly positive. For the nonprofits, this was a rare opportunity to hear from these funders; let alone have a one-on-one session to personally meet and find out how they can submit a successful grant application, or whether it wouldn’t be worth their time to apply. The funders appreciated the opportunity to learn about new and emerging organizations, as well as others they may not have had the chance to meet or learn about previously.

Especially for culturally specific organizations, like those in our API community, it is crucial for funders to help build capacity and provide more hands-on guidance in the application process. I encourage place-based funders to embrace this leadership role to better support those who are most underserved and marginalized in our communities.

Debra Fong is executive director of the Asian Pacific Community Fund. The MTF event was open to any nonprofit organization that serves the API community with priority going to APCF grantees and partners for the one-on-one sessions. 

Photos courtesy of Debra Fong.

In 2014, this email from a grant applicant hit our inboxes:

“Your organization is really not treating people with respect. This is the second time I was told that there would be a delay in your organization’s decision. There were so many excuses such as staff changes, your organization’s uncertainty about my project, and hence the requirement for an external audit.

“Yes, the deadline has been missed and even if there’s a grant now, it is too late. I am disappointed not about not getting the grant, but how you treat others.”

She was right. And worse, she was likely speaking for many applicants before her who did not have the guts to be honest with us about our process.

In our hands was the ability for this woman’s project to be green-lighted or not, and we blew it. But what could we have done differently with a new-ish organization still building its infrastructure, too few staff, not enough time, an influx of applications and a complex process to juggle?

We looked to other foundations to learn how they managed applicants – and we were surprised to learn most foundations just don’t bother. In 2011, Foundation Center noted that 60 percent of the largest foundations in the U.S. do not accept unsolicited applications. Last year, Pablo Eisenberg shared in this commentary on Huffington Post that the numbers have gone up to 72 percent, leaving a considerable amount of foundation funding virtually inaccessible to the large majority of social change efforts.

This lack of access disproportionately impacts low-income communities of color and marginalized groups who are less likely to be in relationships with funders. (Read Vu Le’s brilliant Nonprofit with Balls commentary on this.)

Many foundations that DO accept unsolicited applications often design their systems for their own benefit, not for the benefit of their applicants (with many inspiring exceptions). Applicants frequently receive an automated “Don’t call us we’ll call you” message right after submitting their application and then … they wait.

After an opaque screening process, the majority of applicants might get a form letter rejection with no explanations, no encouragement and no other resources to support them in achieving a future grant.

Many a great social change dream has died at the desk of an unresponsive, un-encouraging funder. Social innovators quickly realize foundation fundraising will suck up all the time they would prefer to use to actually change the world, versus burning themselves out with the agony of impersonal rejections and pounding on closed doors.

As funders, the social sector is counting on us. Our applicants (and potential applicants) are visionaries, optimists, innovators and dreamers. They give voice to new solutions, risky ventures, untested ideas and vulnerably share their project plans with us, leaving their future in our hands for further judgment. And for the most part, we basically blow them off.

What if we took our jobs as not just grantmakers, but as application reviewers and, ultimately, “grant rejectors” to heart? The vast majority of groups who apply for foundation funding will not receive any funding at all, and the selection rate for the largest foundations can be miniscule. The Pollination Project, in contrast, hovers around 15 percent. What if we built our application systems with the needs of grantseekers in mind?

Back when we received “the email that changed everything,” we started asking our applicants what they wanted from our process. The majority said “transparency.” They wanted to know what the timeline was for making a decision, and if they didn’t get funding, why not.

Our little team (three full-time staff who, among many other things, handle nearly 3,000 applications and 500 grants every year) set out to re-engineer our application process around what applicants asked for, not what was most convenient.

This led to our Applicant Bill of Rights, a guiding document that challenges us to interact with applicants in a way that is aligned with the kind of just, generous, compassionate world we want to create.

As it turns out, creating transparent, applicant-friendly systems was easier than we thought. About half of the challenge is clearly communicating your guidelines, and the other half can be answered by a really good database that talks to your application system and reports back to applicants at regular intervals. Everything else is just a question of policy making funding accessible within an open application process. (Read more about The Pollination’s Project’s application workflow.)

Among the many upsides of a responsive, transparent and open application process is giving organized social change efforts a place to tell their story and to be acknowledged whether they get funding or not. Sometimes this is all that is needed for a project to be successful.

Not long ago, and thousands of applications after “the letter that changed everything,” we received this email from another applicant:

“Recently, I submitted a grant application. I learned last week that I wasn’t selected to receive the grant. I’m writing to tell you that you made the right decision! I actually don’t need the grant!”

The applicant went on to share all the ways her organization is raising money and all the successes they have started racking up without our funding.

She closed: “Thank you for helping people to dream. When I first thought of creating this project, I did so thinking I had a good shot at a grant from you. With that belief in the front of my mind, I got to work. So in a weird way, you helped me get started.”

What if our impact was measured not just in the grants we make, but in the grants we don’t make? Funders: It is our job to leave our applicants feeling respected, acknowledged and cared for, whether or not we fund their projects.

Alissa Hauser is the executive director of The Pollination Project. Follow @Pollinationproj on Twitter.

As is becoming increasingly widely recognized, it’s not safe to be any kind of Black man today in America. Just years ago, “respectability politics” still held sway: the argument that persistent lower life outcomes among young Black men were the result of their failure to internalize middleclass, dominant culture White ideals of manliness, from having a regular job and “acting right” to saying “thank you” and “yes, sir” on cue.

But in the wake of Trayvon Martin, Henry Louis Gates, Thabo Sefolosha and many, many others, it’s become clear that  “doing” middleclass manhood does not and will not inoculate young Black men from the ingrained attitudes and harms of structural racism. What is needed now is to work on two fronts simultaneously.

First, a real national conversation about manhood ideals and the fiction that more respectable masculinities somehow protect young men from oppression. Like so many things involving race, that dialog is long overdue.

Second, although the promise of “respectability politics” stands revealed as empty, it is still worthwhile to interrogate the ways that buying into rigid codes of masculinity are tied to lower life outcomes among young men, including young men of color.

In mining both of these ideas, TrueChild and Frontline Solutions have developed a new report. Titled “Addressing Masculine Norms to Improve Life Outcomes for Young Black Men: Why We Still Can’t Wait,” the report was co-branded and distributed by the Association of Black Foundation Executives (ABFE) at its annual conference in Baltimore, Md., on April 9th, and the focus of a panel presentation.

The panel, “Policy Change and Systems Reform: Bringing a Gender Norms Analysis to Racial & Economic Justice Work,” drew a standing-room only crowd. Presenters included:

  • Carmen Anderson (The Heinz Endowments).
  • Allison Brown (Communities for Just Schools Fund).
  • Micah Gilmore (Frontline Solutions).
  • Jahmal Miller (California Department of Public Health).
  • Maisha E. Simmons (Robert Wood Johnson Foundation).
  • Riki Wilchins (TrueChild).

As Loren Harris noted in the Ford Foundation’s landmark 2007 report, “Why We Can’t Wait: A Case for Philanthropic Action,” “gender roles influence the way [young Black] men understand and engage educational opportunity, labor force participation, and relationships with women and other men … limiting conceptions of opportunity and success and exposing some to stigmatization, abuse and violence.”

That observation still rings true today. As does the argument by next-gen civil rights groups like #BlackLivesMatter and Dream Defenders for the right of young Black men to embody manhood on their own terms, whether or not it conforms to dominant culture, middle class ideals.

Despite this, funders and grantees are seldom challenged to do cutting edge work on gender like they are race and class. Yet all three continue to intersect in many pressing philanthropic concerns.

For instance, young men in low-income communities who buy into rigid codes of manhood are more likely to drop out of school early. If they are Black or Latino, they are also more likely to be expelled under school “push-out policies” designed to treat displays of urban masculinity as “oppositional behavior.” And as leading thinkers like Kimberlé Crenshaw note, similar dynamics of race, class AND gender are at work in the increasing over-policing and pushing out of young Black and Latina women for being too ” boisterous” or “unruly” – i.e., unfeminine.

This is one reason a core of leading foundations are beginning to embrace an “intersectional” approach that reconnects racial, economic AND gender justice to address structural oppressions. Isn’t time for more funders to do likewise?

Riki Wilchins is the executive director of True Child. Follow @truechild and @NCRP on Twitter.

Photo courtesy of Association of Black Foundation Executives.

Editor’s note: NCRP Senior Research and Policy Associate Ryan Schlegel and Field Associate Ben Barge recently visited the Alabama Black Belt as part of a listening tour hosted by Grantmakers for Southern Progress and the Black Belt Community Foundation. This is the second in a series of blog posts from activists, organizers and community leaders they met during their trip. NCRP strives to elevate the voices of grantees and potential grantees in conversations about philanthropy. This blog series will address topics relevant to the work underway for social, economic, racial and environmental justice in the Black Belt from the perspective of the people doing that work. Read Jackson’s first post here.

The Voting and Civil Rights Movement was never just about getting the right to vote. It was about people recognizing the humanity in all of us and our laws reflecting that recognition. However, we failed to finish the work of bridging divides and building the Beloved Community. This is the work of the Selma Center for Nonviolence, Truth and Reconciliation.

I moved back to Selma from Nashville to lead this effort because I realized that all of the wonderful work that public defenders do, that I loved doing, didn’t mean much if we don’t have truth and reconciliation, if we don’t heal the cancer of racism and internalized oppression. In The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness, Michelle Alexander explains that we have recreated a caste system through mass incarceration and that we have to change hearts not just laws. When Bryan Stevenson recently spoke at the Center, he said: “Slavery didn’t end. It just evolved.” In order for slavery and institutionalized racism to really end, we must each share our truths, and we must each listen. There can be no reconciliation and healing without truth.

However, while we are engaged in a longer, deeper healing process of truth and reconciliation, we recognize that people are suffering now. Therefore, we:

  • Help organize and mobilize institutions to show their power in numbers to address violence and other issues plaguing our city while training indigenous, neighborhood leaders in nonviolence and conflict resolution (including using the arts with young people) so they can lead the effort to change what most directly impacts their lives.
  • Advocate in and out of court for those who have less-than-zealous appointed attorneys and assist in counseling, job/financial stabilization and other services needed to achieve self-sufficiency.
  • File lawsuits to eradicate debtor’s prisons and police brutality.
  • Represent children who have been expelled from school while organizing the community to change the policies that require kicking them out for even nonviolent offenses.
  • Facilitate a collaboration started by the American Bar Association Commission on Homelessness & Poverty to address issues related to poverty like the lack of a homeless shelter in Selma and the need for community policing.
  • Are creating a farm-to-table cooperative where indigenous leaders, including those formerly incarcerated can be owners not just employees, a place where people cease to be “the other” while breaking bread together.

In the 1960s, many tried to persuade Bernard Lafayette from coming to Selma, declaring Selma hopeless because “Whites were too mean and Blacks were too scared” for anything to change. However, Lafayette came to work in Selma in 1962 determined to help make lasting changes.

Although many still consider the situation in Selma hopeless, Lafayette is still determined and a spirit of hope has emerged. He recognizes that there is still work to be done. Dr. Lafayette, who was instrumental in creating “Selma 1.0,” has returned to help create “Selma 2.0” as Master Trainer and Chair of the Board of Directors for the Center.

Selma has the social capital to make Selma 2.0 a reality, but we lack the financial resources to break the cycle of poverty and violence. We need funding for the people who are committed to creating Selma 2.0. New nonprofits are often reluctant to ask for flexible multi-year funding. However, foundations must recognize that the people who are a part of our organization have been doing this work for decades and since we’ve come together, change is indeed coming.

Now we realize that this long, tedious work may not be sexy to funders, but it is necessary to bring real and lasting changes to our community. These changes can then be modeled for other communities that frequently send people from around the world to Selma looking for answers.

Martin Luther King, Jr. said, “The end of violence or the aftermath of violence is bitterness. The aftermath of nonviolence is reconciliation and the creation of a beloved community … the end is reconciliation, the end is redemption.”

The Center is committed to continuing the movement and finishing the unfinished business of bridging divides and building the Beloved Community. We invite you to join the movement! Invest in Selma as Selma has invested in the world!

Ainka Jackson, Esq., is executive director of The Selma Center for Nonviolence, Truth & Reconciliation at the Healing Waters Retreat Center. Follow @SelmaCNTR and @NCRP on Twitter.

Image by toml1959, modified under Creative Commons license.