Does your foundation or those in your area invest in the South in ways that promote strong, vibrant communities where all residents thrive?

If not, you’re not alone.

“Many philanthropists choose not to invest in Southern communities or choose short-term opportunities that undermine the long-term capacity of Southern nonprofits. Other funders invest in what they think is ‘safer’ direct service work. While aid to those in need is undoubtedly critical, only investments in systemic change can achieve widespread, deep impact in the region.”

– LaTosha Brown and Aaron Dorfman
in “Foreword” of As the South Grows: On Fertile Soil

You can do something about this now.

Read the stories of four nonprofit leaders from the Deep South and how they are standing up for the well-being of communities of color, the poor, women, immigrants and other vulnerable populations in NCRP’s newest report As the South Grows: On Fertile Soil.

Like many of their colleagues, these activists face opposition that have considerably deeper pockets in their work for racial, economic and social justice. And oftentimes, they see very little philanthropic support.

We can learn much from these Southern leaders.

“Our new national reality of unified, reactionary, anti-democratic government has been a reality for Southerners off and on for more than a generation. Therefore, national and non-Southern organizations have much to learn from their Southern counterparts.”

– LaTosha Brown and Aaron Dorfman
in “Foreword” of As the South Grows: On Fertile Soil

Learn about:

We hope “As the South Grows” inspires you to look at the South as a fertile ground for deeper investments, collaboration and partnerships.

Yna C. Moore is senior director of communications at the National Committee for Responsive Philanthropy (NCRP). Follow @ynamoore and @NCRP on Twitter.

Photo by Wendy Ettinger, 2016. Used with permission.

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.

Given the discriminatory rhetoric that has set the stage for our incoming presidential administration, our sector needs to articulate the need for justice and increase our support of social movement leaders.

This year I wrote two blog posts (“Dear white folks in philanthropy: My ‘Miley, what’s good?’ moment” and “Philanthropy: Let’s Talk About Race, Baby”) on how philanthropy needs to address racial bias and inequity more explicitly. To do this well, sector leaders can prepare by engaging in trainings that provide safe spaces for vulnerable conversations about structural racism. Read on for two exemplars and the impact they’ve had on my evolving understanding of race and racism as a white person.

Many of you have heard about the Washington Regional Association of Grantmakers (WRAG) learning series Putting Racism on the Table, which convened foundation trustees and CEOs from the Washington, D.C., area. I attended four of the six three-hour sessions earlier this year, among 40-50 other attendees. WRAG’s program is an excellent model for sector groups and funders who want to effectively leverage their bully pulpit.

Content-wise, the series’ discussion topics included structural racism, white privilege, implicit bias, mass incarceration and racial demographics. All of the speakers addressed how philanthropy can address racial inequity in the U.S. context, and an expert facilitator made space for small and large group discussions before and after the presentations.

I honed my understanding of race and racism and how to talk about it in philanthropy, especially by hearing reactions and questions from the audience and the presenters’ responses.

As follow-up to the featured speaker sessions, WRAG organized a series of three-hour trainings to support implementation. Each was limited to 25 participants, but was open to all foundation staff.

The second WRAG training I participated in took place this month and explored how to communicate about race with white family, friends and colleagues – timely with this year’s post-election holidays.

Led by two white facilitators, Nancy Brown-Jamison of White Men as Full Diversity Partners and Dr. Mark Chesler, a professor at the University of Michigan, we created not only a “safe” space, but a “brave” space to ask and share things we normally wouldn’t.

We discussed conditions that hinder and help learning about racism; worked in small groups to share experiences as bystanders, targets/victims, perpetrators/agents and interrupters/interveners in instances of racism; and talked about what often works and doesn’t work when engaging other white people on the topic.

Another option that is available across the country is the Undoing Racism workshop with the People’s Institute for Survival and Beyond (PISAB). I attended the two-day training this summer alongside 40 staff members from direct service, research and advocacy nonprofits in DC.

The facilitators were incredibly skilled and sensitive, and there were many opportunities to share stories and get to know others in the room. We discussed all the systems touched by racism in the U.S. context, including: philanthropy; how racism keeps “white on top” and acts as “feet of oppression” on communities of color; shared childhood messages or lessons that internalized racial inferiority and superiority in our lives; reviewed the history of “affirmative action for whites” throughout U.S. history; and learned about how community organizing is the key to undoing racism.

A review of key definitions also helped guide our conversations. In fact, the part of the workshop where we defined “race” completely changed my understanding of racism and what we’re up against when we talk about “undoing” it or “putting it on the table.”

With both the WRAG and PISAB gatherings, group guidelines were important in setting the stage for shared language, confidentiality and leaning into discomfort. The intentionality and expertise brought to these trainings made them milestones in my professional and personal development.

I encourage you, particularly white foundation staff and board members, to participate in such opportunities or take the initiative to organize them yourselves. No matter where you are in the country or in your learning journey, an intention for 2017 to sign up for a training that delves into race and racism will empower your organization, and our sector, to lead well during the challenges that lie ahead.

Caitlin Duffy is senior associate for learning and engagement at the National Committee for Responsive Philanthropy (NCRP) and a member of the Board of Instigators of the Diverse City Fund in Washington, D.C. Follow @NCRP and @DuffyInDC on Twitter.

Image by Elvert Barnes, used under Creative Commons license.

aaron2Our work together is more important than ever. Over the Thanksgiving holiday, I found myself reflecting about how grateful I am for all of you, staff, volunteers and trustees for an amazing web of nonprofits and foundations. I know this to be true: Philanthropy has a vitally important role to play in building a more just, fair and democratic world.

I hope by now you’ve seen the new strategic framework that will guide NCRP for the next 10 years. We’re expanding the scope of our work to engage with wealthy individuals who don’t give through foundations. We’ll intentionally link with movements to help our nation move forward. And we’re continuing some of our key major initiatives.

This issue of Responsive Philanthropy includes some terrific articles that we hope will spur conversation and much-needed action on equity, the untapped potential of the South and the rigorous study of our sector’s role in a democratic society.

How has philanthropic support in the South changed over the past few years? How can we strengthen partnerships between Southern and national funders? NCRP’s Ryan Schlegel posed these and other questions to Mary Reynolds Babcock Foundation executive director Justin Maxson and network officer Lavastian Glenn. Read about it in “Grantmaking in the South: An opportunity to support equity and opportunity.”

A few months ago, the Ford Foundation announced that it will explicitly include people with disabilities in their focus on addressing inequality. In “Ford Foundation and supporting the disability rights movement: We’ve only just begun,” disability rights organizer Jim Dickson and Sarah Blahovec of the National Council on Independent Living ask: “What is the rest of the philanthropic community going to do?”

Philanthropy has been largely ignored by academia despite its important role in our democratic society. In “Moving philanthropy from the margins to the center,” Robert Reich, Chiara Cordelli and Lucy Bernholz are encouraging scholars to ask tough questions about how philanthropy may contribute to or threaten the public good.

Finally, we’re excited to feature the National Birth Equity Collaborative in this edition’s Member Spotlight. NBEC, based in New Orleans, seeks to reduce Black maternal and infant mortality through research, collaboration and advocacy.

Let us know what you think of these articles. We’re always eager to hear your comments and story ideas, so don’t hesitate to send your feedback to community@ncrp.org.

Aaron Dorfman is president and CEO of NCRP. 

Photo by Ryan Johnson, www.flickr.com/photos/dancingterrapin/25035573051/. Used with permission.

A lot is going on at NCRP. Between the brand new Strategic Framework, the upcoming fall edition of Responsive Philanthropy and our new website, it can be hard to find time for reflection. But at NCRP, we know how important it is to have time to reflect on our work and lives. With the holiday season in full swing, I posed this question to NCRP staff:

What is something you are thankful for in your work in philanthropy? How has this thing, concept, experience or person helped you in your own development as an advocate and person?

As a recent college graduate, new employee at NCRP and new addition to the sector, I have a lot of change coming my way. I face plenty of uncertainty and unanswered questions about my future, but I can confidently say that I am so thankful for this opportunity I have to work at NCRP. As the communications intern, I get to use my skills and knowledge every single day, assisting with work that aligns with my values. The fact that I can feel good about how I spend my time gives me a necessary sense of security with myself. Even if I don’t have it all figured out and even if I can’t yet articulate the end of this long and confusing transition from college, I feel incredibly thankful to be able to use my time for a worthwhile endeavor. So thank you NCRP, thank you to my colleagues and thank you to everyone for making this work possible.

Responses from other NCRP employees are below:

“Philanthropy provides an opportunity for each of us to be aware of our privileges and our personal and collective power. Despite the challenges we face, each of us has the ability to give something, monetary or otherwise, to improve our communities. It may be our time; it may be influence in our relationships. And it may in fact be money. Regardless we are all stronger when each of us becomes aware of what we have to offer, and then shares it with others in the ways that have the most impact. We become more grateful for what we have when we recognize that we have enough to give away and to keep. This is true as individuals, and it’s true for philanthropic institutions who can leverage a range of resources, including finances, to address the root causes of problems in our society.”

           — Jeanné Isler, Vice President of Learning and Engagement

“I am grateful for those in philanthropy taking the brave step to confront personal or institutional class and/or race privilege in an effort to advance equity. Especially individuals who have been willing to talk openly about this humbling journey, whether through a blog or at a conference.  Some that come to mind are Washington Regional Association of Grantmakers, who are Putting Racism on the Table; The Colorado Trust, which replaced its program officers with community organizers in a shift to funding resident-led initiatives; and several Oregon funders, including Meyer Memorial Trust, which has overhauled grantmaking to become more responsive to communities of color, Northwest Health Foundation, which this year publicly shared its learning journey around ableism and disability, and The Oregon Community Foundation, which has made a commitment to equity, diversity and inclusion and is striving earnestly to embody that commitment in the face of ongoing criticism from numerous leaders of color. I am also grateful to Gita Gulati-Partee and Caitlin Duffy, who have both given me a lot of food for thought about what it means for me personally to be a white woman trying to advance equity.”

          — Lisa Ranghelli, Senior Director of Assessment and Special Projects

“My understanding of race and racism as a white person grew a good deal in 2016 thanks to some amazing folks in DC. The Washington Peace Center and local chapter of Showing Up for Racial Justice organized fantastic workshops and direct actions, and I was strongly impacted by an Undoing Racism workshop given by the People’s Institute for Survival and Beyond and hosted by Service to Justice. I’ve also learned much from my fellow board members at the Diverse City Fund and from participation in the Putting Racism on the Table series organized by the Washington Regional Association of Grantmakers. And after such an anxiety-ridden and hate-filled election year, I’m grateful for the healing and energizing spaces I found at the conferences held by Neighborhood Funders Group, Emerging Practitioners in Philanthropy, and Race Forward.”

           — Caitlin Duffy, Senior Associate for Learning and Engagement

 

Jack Rome is a communications intern at NCRP. Follow @NCRP on Twitter.

This commentary was originally published on The Chicago Community Trust website.
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When The Chicago Community Trust held its first On the Table, we heard loud and clear from the community that race and segregation is the biggest issue we face.

What if I lived in a neighborhood where 80 percent of the adults I knew didn’t have a job? Where getting through school was a matter of chance – a 50/50 proposition at best – and where getting to school could be life-threatening? Would I still be striving for my share of the American Dream?

Would I even think the American Dream was meant for someone like me?

Against all odds, against any standard of reasonableness, our fellow residents who call Englewood, or Austin or North Lawndale home, do just that.

But for those of us who don’t live in those neighborhoods, there is a corrosive narrative that the crisis in our neighborhoods is the result of poverty, and poverty is the result of bad choices: choosing to drop out of school, choosing to get pregnant while in high school, choosing drugs and gangs over hard work. This allows us to be comfortable with the disparities we see every night on the evening news.

If we were to look any deeper, we would have to confront our unreconciled heritage of racism and white supremacy.

The responsibility to talk about racism in our city must be shared by white people. We must be brave and vocal about racism and white privilege, otherwise the status quo prevails.

The reality is, we continue to live in one of the most segregated cities in our country with a deep legacy of racism.

A few months ago, the Trust and the Chicago Public Library hosted Jim Wallis, pastor and founder of Sojourners, to talk about his powerful new book America’s Original Sin: Racism, White Privilege and the Bridge to a New America. Through the lenses of historical events and current tragedies, Wallis asserts an incisive and coherent theological framework for racism as our original sin – and a path forward through acts of repentance and action.

The title of his book traces the roots of racism in our country to its founding, when we sought to resolve the dissonance between scriptures that state all men are created in God’s image and an economy based on slave labor.

The result is the compromise embedded in our U.S. Constitution, which calculates population for determining seats in the U. S. House of Representatives based on three-fifths of “other persons” and excludes Native Americans altogether. With this formulation, the idea of white supremacy is baked into our national DNA – reinforced originally through law and today through the culture of white privilege.

Let me propose a different way to think about white privilege. There is a famous commencement speech delivered in 2005 at Kenyon College by David Foster Wallace. He began with a story: Two young fish meet an older fish, who asks them, “How’s the water?” The younger fish look at each other and say, “What the hell is water?”

As Wallace explains, “The point of the fish story is merely that the most obvious, important realities are often the ones that are hardest to see and talk about.” This is what institutional and structural racism is in our society: It is water. For white people it is invisible to us, because it is our water. Yet, in our state and our city:

  • We provide black and brown children three-fifths of funding for their education.
  • Only three-fifths of young black men aged 18 to 24 are able to find jobs.
  • Black women are paid three-fifths of what white men earn.
  • African Americans experience, on average, longevity that is 15 years less than whites and Hispanics.
  • We have state-sanctioned oppression, disproportionate laws and policing that result in one-third of all black males having some interaction with our justice system.
  • African Americans constitute 74 percent of the victims of police-involved shootings.

The forced release of the Laquan McDonald video by Jamie Kalven has been catalytic for social transformation, and I applaud the important role media has played in these events. As Bill Moyers once said, “The quality of democracy and the quality of journalism are deeply entwined.”

As a result of this coverage, the Police Accountability Task Force was convened. To make sure that the recommendations of its report are not lost, I want to draw your attention to the work of Smart Chicago and the City Bureau , who posted a fully annotated and documented listing of all 200 of the recommendations from the report.

To quote the report: “If you are not severely and wholeheartedly dealing with racism, you are not going to get to the bottom of this issue.”

In response, Fraternal Order of Police president Dean Angelo stated in a recent Chicago Sun-Times article that “if you look at crimes and murders, gun, narcotics and homicide arrests ward by ward, the top 10 wards in the city are over 80 percent African American. That’s where the officers are assigned, and that’s where more contact occurs. Officers aren’t responding to neighborhoods of color. They’re responding to neighborhoods of crime.”

There it is. This is exactly what Reverend Jim Wallis discusses: The dehumanization and criminalization of African Americans.

Let me go back to what Angelo said: “They’re responding to neighborhoods of crime.” Neighborhoods that just happen to be 80 percent African-American. In his view, they are not responding to criminal activity, or criminals – they are responding to “neighborhoods of crime.”

Now, here is our dilemma. Angelo’s statement is very hurtful to African Americans, especially those living in the neighborhoods he singles out. And our predictable human response would be to lash out, fight back – especially if you have endured generations of sanctioned oppression.

Our challenge is to acknowledge the pain, and also to move to reconciliation. For us to make progress in reducing racism in our city, Dean Angelo and the FOP must be at the table. All of us must be on the same side, confronting racism – not negotiating across the table, with black lives in the balance.

The death of Laquan McDonald implicates other parts of our society. His educational experiences, or lack thereof; his opportunities for employment, or lack thereof.

Unfortunately, we see the pattern of structural racism in the concentrated segregation of Chicago’s schools. But we also see glimmers of hope.

Chicago is a great city with a bright future.

That is our vision of hope to sustain us all, to become comfortable discussing and confronting racism, to seek reconciliation and to work toward a more inclusive future.

Terry Mazany is president and CEO of The Chicago Community Trust. Excerpted from Terry Mazany’s address to the City Club of Chicago  on April 27, speaking about the state of the nonprofit sector, education and racial inequity in our community. 

“Relationships develop at the speed of trust” was an oft-repeated truism spoken at the place-based philanthropy conference Towards a More Resilient Place, co-hosted by The Aspen Institute Forum for Community Solutions and Neighborhood Funders Group. Yet very quickly conference speakers seemed to signal their trust of other participants by taking the conversation to a deep and personal level.

During the opening plenary on the topic of “community resilience” panelists reminded us that there’s personal hurt from injustice and that resilience is a double-edged sword. When communities suffering from decades of racism and disinvestment are described as “resilient,” it almost implies that they can keep enduring under that mantle of oppression for years more, perhaps allowing further complacency by those with the power and resources to do something about it. As one leader said, “The New Orleans community wants to be made whole, not just resilient.”

Another funder noted wryly that “Philanthropy loves a crisis,” but longstanding inequities are just as much a crisis as the Flint water situation. Several grantmakers described how crises both immediate and long-term caused them to look at their impact to date and conclude that their status quo grantmaking approach was no longer an option. In embarking on new paths these philanthropic leaders entered into “tough conversations” and opened themselves to critical feedback from the communities they seek to benefit. This included examining their own institution’s role in creating or perpetuating inequity. And it meant grappling with what Sarah Eagle Heart, CEO of Native Americans in Philanthropy, called philanthropy’s “hesitancy to learn a worldview that is not the majority worldview.”

Part of learning a new worldview is realizing that philanthropy should not always be creating or setting the “table” for community engagement and problem solving, but rather should find out what tables already exist in the community and ask whether and how it can be part of those tables. We often talk about “building the capacity of communities and residents to be at the table” but don’t reflect on what capacities philanthropy needs to be at community tables, like the capacity to understand other worldviews and one’s own privileged perch.

Philanthropy already has the capacity, but not often the willingness, to take risks. This convening attracted grantmakers who are willing to experience profound discomfort in their quest to break out of the traditional philanthropic mold of RFPs and competitive grant processes. In doing so, they seek to relate from a place of love, not fear. They are often met with confusion, caution and distrust from community leaders initially, which is understandable after decades of burned bridges and failed expectations between foundations and many communities. Relationships develop at the speed of trust.

Leticia Peguero, Executive Director of the Andrus Family Fund, urged us all to embrace a hashtag call to action: #hayotraforma (#thereisanotherway). It is the way of vulnerable, authentic relationships; of more agile, community-led grantmaking; of disruptive approaches that challenge oppressive economic and political structures.

This conference experience and my colleague Caitlin Duffy’s recent blog post have challenged me to examine my own privileged perch as a white, middle class woman who wants to support racial and economic justice. How am I getting outside of my comfort zone in this work? What are the opportunities for me to take more risks?

I don’t yet know the answers. But I know there is another way. It won’t be an easy one, but it will be more likely to lead to personal and social transformation.

new-on-blog-ncrp-org-2Lisa Ranghelli is senior director of assessment and special projects at the National Committee for Responsive Philanthropy (NCRP), where she leads Philamplify, an initiative that combines expert assessment and critical stakeholder feedback to improve grantmaking practices and boost equitable outcomes in communities. Follow @lisa_rang and @NCRP on Twitter.

Photo by Lisa Ranghelli.

You may remember last year’s controversy between Nicki Minaj and Miley Cyrus. In response to being excluded from nominations for a Video Music Awards category, Minaj expressed public critique on Twitter about double-standards and racial bias in the industry.

As host of the 2015 VMAs, Cyrus took the opportunity to critique the artist in an interview: “What I read sounded very Nicki Minaj, which, if you know Nicki Minaj is not too kind. It’s not very polite. I think there’s a way you speak to people with openness and love.” The next day, while accepting an award on stage, Minaj turned to a surprised Cyrus and pointedly asked, “Miley, what’s good?”

Minaj later explained her response, stating, “If you want to enjoy [Black] culture and our lifestyle, bond with us, dance with us, have fun with us, twerk with us, rap with us, then you should also want to know what affects us, what is bothering us, what we feel is unfair to us.”

Cyrus was clearly uncomfortable with Minaj’s rage. Whether the hip-hop artist was attempting to change the industry, shame specific people, vent her own frustration and anger or heighten awareness, her refusal to be polite was a necessary political statement.

I was reminded of this exchange when I read Rodney Foxworth’s recent post “The Need for Black Rage in Philanthropy.” Foxworth compels white philanthropists to embrace a sense of moral urgency, writing that philanthropy should “lean into the impatience and rage that simmers throughout Black America” in order to advance change.

Before we can lean into another’s righteous anger with urgency, it’s necessary to face our own discomfort. As a white person, I’ve struggled with discomfort in the face of anger from people of color. Robin DiAngelo writes that white people in North America are largely insulated from race-based stress, and that challenges to our racial worldviews and social norms can be very unsettling. But as Foxworth rightly asserts, Black rage is an appropriate response to the level of injustice our societies face, and white folks like me need to work through our fragility in the face of our colleagues’ anger. Lives depend on it.

My prior reactions to Black rage have been marked by defensiveness and frustration with what I perceived as over generalizations about white people. For example, two years ago I wrote a personal blog post titled, “To my fellow social justice activists and friends of color.” Among the sentiments I shared were:

“Your frustration and anger with an unfair and oppressive system are justified, and your experiences are valid. To defend yourself and amplify your voice, at times harsh words and even violent reactions are required. Yet to those in my network I ask … Please do not generalize and make sweeping statements about ‘whites’ in a disparaging manner when criticizing unjust societal structures and institutions, considering that there are many people who look like me and who stand in solidarity with you. I recognize that I cannot fully participate in your struggle, but I can’t help but feel that the energy that is expressed behind such attitudes smacks of stereotyping and exclusion, which is antithetical to the advancement of struggles for equality and justice.”

Looking back, my post was laden with a discomfort with Black rage and my own white privilege in trying to control discourse. Minaj wasn’t there to call me out, but a white friend reached out to me. She wisely wrote, “Not being defensive, and internalizing what is or could be true about what people of color are saying that is different from my current perspective, is an important practice for me as a white ally. I really try not to seek affirmation of my rightness as an ally when I’ve recently been called out, especially affirmation by people of color.” Unfortunately I deflected her offer to meet and discuss it, though I’ve since thanked her and can only wish that I had been more open to hearing her advice at the time.

Especially as white people working in philanthropy, we might get racism caught in our teeth during a panel, or a presentation at a conference, or a conversation with a colleague. I sure had some white privilege caught in mine when I wrote my self-righteous post. It’s impossible to separate the personal from the professional when it comes to implicit bias.

White people in philanthropy, embrace discomfort and avoid defensiveness in your own “Miley, what’s good?” moments to truly listen and learn. I detailed why it’s important to do so in another NCRP blog post entitled “Philanthropy: Let’s Talk About Race, Baby.”

With growing dialogue in the sector around race and racial justice, I’m emboldened to share my cringe-worthy experience, and I do so with the hopes of challenging you to be more open about your own learning journey.

When have you experienced or observed white discomfort with Black rage in philanthropy?

Caitlin Duffy is senior associate for learning and engagement at the National Committee for Responsive Philanthropy (NCRP). Follow @NCRP and @DuffyInDC on Twitter.

Image by Philip Nelson, Live Streaming Expert, modified under Creative Commons license.