Note: This is the second of two Chronicle opinion pieces to explore direct action and movements in the wake of the protests in Los Angeles of federal immigration raids. The first op-ed argues that disruptive and noisy tactics are key to achieving social change.
If you watched Los Angeles’ pro-immigrant, anti-ICE protests on the news in recent weeks, you might have seen my abuelo’s name near the spot where much of the action took place — the Edward R. Roybal Federal Building. In reality, that Edward R. Roybal was not my grandfather, who was a truck driver and Teamster. The one with a building named after him was a beloved local politician and community leader.
In some ways though, the two Edwards shared more than a name.
My grandfather used to tell me about driving around East Los Angeles in a car covered in signs backing the man he called mi tocayo — or my namesake — for L.A. City Council. Before he became the first Latino elected to the council in more than 70 years, and later served as a congressman, that Edward R. Roybal was a community organizer and a founding member of the Community Service Organization. There, like Cesar Chavez and Dolores Huerta, he honed his organizing skills alongside labor leader Fred Ross.
My grandfather’s stories set me on my own organizing path, both at school and at local and national organizations, including the National LGBTQ Task Force. In my decades of organizing, I’ve planned many protests like those in L.A. and understand their critical importance to creating social change. I’ve been inspired by the recent protests in my birth city but angered by the authoritarian response and lack of support from several supposedly progressive funders.
These foundation leaders seem to have forgotten their history. During profound political crisis, protest is not a threat to democracy but proof that democracy is working. From the Boston Tea Party to Seneca Falls to Selma to Stonewall to Standing Rock, protest has always been a catalyst for change, a vehicle for the voices of the unheard, and oftentimes a disruptive controversial spectacle too.
I know this first-hand because I worked as a program officer who funded organizing efforts, protest, and direct action. I was at the Gill Foundation for six years during the repeal of sodomy laws that criminalized queer people, the push for the freedom to marry, and the continued pursuit of liberation and equality for LGBTQ+ people. I left philanthropy 20 years ago to return to organizing, including overseeing many protests. The progress made by the queer movement would not have been possible without such protests funded by donors large and small.
Criminalizing Protest
Yet today, front-line groups are under fire, even criminalized for doing the very community-building work that philanthropy should champion. The National Committee for Responsive Philanthropy, where I work, has even heard from grantees that many progressive funders are withdrawing their support for nonprofits involved in protest. It appears these funders are paralyzed by fear and misinformation about what’s allowed in a political environment shaped by a lawless president’s daily mood.
While the IRS bars grant makers from funding 501(c)(3) organizations that support or oppose political candidates, funding groups that engage in protest is perfectly legal. Full stop.
That approach is a dangerous misreading of the role of grant makers. Philanthropy has both the obligation and resources to fund organizing and protest, recognizing that nothing in the law is stopping them. Associating with one another, assembling, and petitioning for redress of grievances are some of this country’s founding revolutionary ideals. Protected by the First Amendment, these actions are foundational to any functioning democracy.
While the IRS bars grant makers from funding 501(c)(3) organizations that support or oppose political candidates, funding groups that engage in protest is perfectly legal. Full stop.
Today, many groups remain engaged in democracy-building and community organizing work, mobilizing mutual aid, and pushing for racial and economic justice. When elected officials fail to deliver or try to tear down democracy and deprive people of due process, these groups respond appropriately by protesting those actions. But instead of receiving sustained support, they’re surveilled, criminalized, and defunded, often by the very grant makers who claim they’re allies.
A Win for Authoritarians
Meanwhile, right-wing operatives continue to funnel billions into misinformation, voter suppression, and attacks on public institutions with little to no scrutiny. The result is a lopsided ecosystem: While democracy’s detractors enjoy generous resources, groups that bolster democracy have told us that funders want them to tone down their pro-democracy, pro-diversity stance.
Given this imbalance, is it any wonder authoritarianism is on the rise? The right has played the long game, funding think tanks, lawsuits, media outlets, and grassroots networks that undermine democratic norms and build the constituency for authoritarian politics. Progressive philanthropy, in contrast, often shies away from investing in power-building strategies that involve conflict, confrontation, or direct action.
Philanthropy must stop confusing risk with legality. Supporting protest is not a legal liability but a democratic necessity. Foundations can fund protest-related education, logistics, and support services. They can also fund legal defense, bail funds, and organizing infrastructure. And they can do all of that while complying with IRS regulations.
Foundations don’t need permission but courage. To meet this moment, funders should act not just as allies, but as co-conspirators. They can do that by providing more unrestricted funding, multi-year commitments, and a recognition that protest is not a detour from the path to justice. It is the path.
Freedom doesn’t result from playing it safe. It comes from investing in the visionaries, the agitators, organizers, and people in the streets who shout loudly and proudly — “Sí se puede.”
