Like so many other Americans, we are saddened and shocked by the surge of anti-Asian hate across the nation, including many horrific acts of violence. As leaders of philanthropic organizations, we also are wrestling with an important question: What is the right moral response for the institutions we lead?
We all know the names George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and Rayshard Brooks. With their deaths at the hands of law-enforcement officers last year, the United States experienced a racial-justice awakening not seen since the 1960s. Less familiar are the names Vicha Ratanapakdee, Suncha Kim, and Xiaojie Tan. Yet these victims of anti-Asian violence cannot be forgotten as a new wave of racism and hate rears its head across America.
In the halls of progressive philanthropy, the spoken or whispered questions from our Asian-Pacific Islander brothers, sisters, and family demand a response. What about us? What about our pain, our humanity, and our journey? Where are the dollars and resources for our community?
In a tragic irony, the racism and discrimination embedded in our white supremacy culture doesn’t discriminate. Anti-Black racism sets the tone and the standard, but anyone who falls outside of the dominant white culture and society — the Latino/Latina community, immigrants, Native Americans, LGBTQ individuals — suffers from varying degrees of visible and not-so-visible hate on a daily basis.
Philanthropy has responded to this crisis in the past year with a surge of support for Black-led organizing and racial justice. And yet a feeling persists inside and outside our organizations that the field is still not doing nearly enough.
All too frequently we get caught up in an “oppression Olympics” in which comparative journeys of pain and injustice are analyzed to determine which communities should get the biggest slice of the of philanthropic pie. The message we are hearing from organizations in every community of color is, “We get less than 2 percent of foundation dollars, and therefore we should get more.” Philanthropy jumps to respond to the immediate need, but too often support and attention wane as the crisis dissipates.
This reaction is understandable given that the pain and tragedy of racial injustice in America is both enduring and fresh. Old scars are reopened every day and are worsened as the new strains of divisiveness unleashed by the last presidential administration continue to fester.
Think Bigger
At the same time, philanthropy has a responsibility to think and act bigger, particularly as America’s political and mainstream civic institutions move too slowly to confront the legacy of structural racism. Our organizations, created to operate in the public interest and mission-bound to help solve problems in struggling communities, have a moral obligation to set the tone for a broader civic response.
Responding to the specific pain and needs of oppressed communities is one way to act on this obligation — and we must continue to do so. But it is also philanthropy’s duty to help lead the work of achieving what civil rights leaders refer to as the “Beloved Community” — a vision for America in which all belong and all are cared for and where poverty, hunger, hate, and racial oppression are absent. This vision can only be achieved through thoughtful, collective advocacy and solidarity against hate and discrimination.
So as we gather once more in philanthropy’s boardrooms and Zoom rooms, this time to consider our response to anti-Asian hate, we offer the beginnings of a framework for action by our organizations and our field:
Speak up. Responses from philanthropic institutions must include declarative statements against hate and discrimination using both our voice and our funding. Hate simply cannot be met with silence because silence implies complicity and tolerance of racism.
Think beyond Black and white. Anti-Black racism is unquestionably the bedrock of white supremacy in the United States. But the proliferation of white supremacy has had profound repercussions across every racial group. Philanthropy needs to work harder to understand these different ethnic groups and the interplay between them. That requires listening to diverse leaders and ensuring our internal anti-racist work doesn’t focus only on Black racism. We need to build common ground by investing in advocacy efforts that unite multiple communities. That means stepping away from a solely Black-white paradigm, which renders invisible far too many indigenous, Asian, Latino/Latina, and immigrant communities — with ultimately deadly consequences.
Enlarge the pie. The same divide-and-conquer approach that oppressors have used to fracture communities and diminish multiracial solidarity have infiltrated philanthropic investments, leading to competition over who’s getting the biggest slice of the pie. It’s time to face the truth that the pie itself is not big enough and the very notion of divvying up justice among and across different populations is antithetical to what justice means. We need to invest in holistic approaches to these issues and make sure we do not perpetuate divisions by leaving racial communities competing for limited resources. We need to expand the funding pie because reversing three decades of structural racism won’t come cheap.
Change the societal systems that perpetuate racism. Our moral response to acts of racial violence and hatred must also be strategic. We must acknowledge that racism and hate in America are structural in nature and involve matters of voice, power, and narrative. Grassroots groups such as AAPIs for Civic Empowerment are fighting the “model minority” stereotype — created by white elites to justify Black oppression — and replacing it with a new narrative focused on joining with other communities of color to dismantle the systemic racism that keeps them all down. This includes recent efforts to stand up against racist and anti-democratic proposals to roll back voting rights. Groups of this kind are engaged in the long-term work of creating structural change and require significant and consistent philanthropic support.
Boost solidarity. We need to direct investments toward grassroots organizations that intentionally work across boundaries of race, ethnicity, and gender. Philanthropy should partner with and draw inspiration from Black, Latino/Latina, and Asian American Pacific Islander groups that join forces on issues that affect them all, including restoring voting rights to parolees, demanding better pay and Covid-19 protections for essential workers, and seeking a fairer tax system to fund schools and upgrade infrastructure in all low-income communities. Such work is the crucible of the “Beloved Community,” where the spirit and ethos of solidarity and belonging is dominant.
We are moving into uncharted territory in the national conversation on racism and the hate it cultivates. Humility is essential as our foundations engage in this conversation and consider new investments and strategies. We don’t have all the answers, but we do have a responsibility to learn as we invest, lift the voices of affected communities, and confront hard questions.
Chinese American activist and author Grace Lee Boggs said, “Love isn’t about what we did yesterday; it’s about what we do today and tomorrow and the day after.” Let us work together now through actions and words to show philanthropy’s solidarity with Asian American Pacific Islanders and all those struggling against racism and injustice.
