It is now official — too many of us in philanthropy have fallen for the okey-doke.
The “okey-doke” is a decades-old expression among African-Americans, and it translates into the process of being tricked, duped, or manipulated. You will hear the expression among conversations at an African-American barbershop or family gathering. It might show up in the following manner: An African-American woman is relating a recent business encounter in which she dismissed a scam artist, and her uncle replies, “That’s right. Don’t fall for the okey-doke.”
Or, as social-justice-minded millennials might say, “fallin’ for the okey-doke” is the opposite of “gettin’ woke.”
This revelation came to me as I scanned my New York Times and saw these headlines on just a single day:
In the first article came a reminder that we now reside in a United States of America where someone running for the highest office of the greatest democracy on the planet is under zero obligation to release tax returns (seriously?) — and the exalted, we-have-a-different-set-of-rules-for-us that wealth and privilege confer.
The second story refers to the African-American woman who was arrested and humiliated by a police officer during a traffic stop because, according to the arresting officer, he feared for his safety. Ms. Bland’s cellphone video of the encounter revealed nothing resembling aggressive or threatening behavior on her part with the officer. She hung herself in a Texas jail cell three days later.
The third one depicts yet another chapter in the long, sordid history of health disparities fueled by structural racism, as African-American women continue to suffer savage inequities in maternal and child health.
And the fourth article is another chapter of the rising tide of inhumanity demonstrated by the federal government in border, immigrant, and migrant policies.
Four stories, in the same day, each representing a slice of the unrelenting assault on our nation’s sense of fairness, truth, equality, and human rights.
Bad enough that it was all those on a single day, but also horrifying that on so many days the news reports are filled with just as many, if not more, outrages.
But just as upsetting, as I reflected on the day, is that I put down my newspaper, finished my coffee, and went off to work. I certainly do not recall doing anything differently on that Wednesday, maintaining my steady diet of scheduled meetings and conference calls.
‘Don’t Lose Your Sense of Outrage’
At our foundation, our Board of Directors has a tradition, as I’m certain many boards do, of allowing board members who have concluded their term of service to offer some words of reflection to their colleagues. It is a favorite moment for me, as I am consistently inspired by board members reminding us of the importance and value of our mission.
A decade ago, one departing board member, who was a retired Goldman Sachs executive, instead of providing any prepared set of remarks, held up a sign, inviting his colleagues to read the message and just “sit with it” for a moment. The sign read simply: “Don’t Lose Your Sense of Outrage.” (It reminded me of the famous scene in the movie Norma Rae in which Sally Field stands on a workplace tabletop holding a sign that said, “Union.”)
I believe that too many of us in philanthropy have now lost our sense of outrage. It has been softened, diluted, blunted, and bludgeoned by a relentless barrage on our sense of basic humanity and civic well-being — fueled by race-, gender-, LGBTQ-, and immigrant-centric attacks flying under the guise of patriotism.
We are largely sleepwalking through an incredible resurgence of what john powell, a racial-equity scholar, calls “othering": the systematic stigmatization and marginalization of those who look different from some white-nationalist ideal. This is a much bigger deal even than who happens to occupy the White House at this moment.
In other words, we have seriously fallen for the okey-doke: Our capacity to be outraged has been narcotized. Yes, there appear to be a growing number of conferences in philanthropy that focus on equity and race, but I have to wonder whether this represents another one of those time-limited headline fads in philanthropy to generate conference attendance, like “collective impact” or “big data.”
What One New Thing Will You Do?
What does elevating a sense of outrage in action look like for us?
A dose of optimism revealed itself this past week when colleagues at the Open Society, Ford, Robert Wood Johnson, and JPB Foundations announced collaborative funding to support community outreach for a successful 2020 census count; their leadership is to be commended.
But it will be different for every foundation. For the one I lead, it means getting ever more serious and deliberate about building grassroots and community power and elevating the voices of those too often left out — because that is the only way we improve the health of our state and the nation.
But here is what I will ask our board and staff to consider in the weeks ahead, and I invite other foundation colleagues and trustees to pose and answer the same question: In the coming year (or years), what one new thing that pushes back against outrageous actions will we commit to that we are not doing now?
Robert Ross is chief executive of the California Endowment.