For me, it was a mic-drop moment. Morgan Dawson, co-CEO of Threshold Philanthropy, was speaking on a panel about Black women in philanthropy during this year’s Essence Fest, commonly touted as the largest annual gathering of Black women in the nation.
“In philanthropy,” she said, “we often talk about community, but in the way of being better philanthropists, and I wish it was in the context of being better neighbors.”
My reaction was both theoretical and practical.
On the theoretical side, I immediately started thinking about what might change if philanthropy was driven by the concept of being good neighbors. Donors would need to think of themselves as part of the communities they serve — not outside charitably looking in. That distinction is important because part of truly being a good neighbor is accepting that the issues of one neighbor can affect the fate of the entire community.
What would a world look like in which philanthropy considered Black women, girls, and gender-expansive people true neighbors?
Well, for one, it’s unlikely that just $5.48 in philanthropic funding would go to each woman and girl of color in the United States every year, according to a Ms. Foundation study — “pocket change,” as the 2020 report puts it. That report offers the latest data on giving to this group, which itself shows how little time the field spends thinking about the issues and challenges facing women and girls of color. Given the chronic underfunding, however, it’s unlikely that even after 2020’s massive racial justice protests and donor promises to give more, the situation has changed significantly.
My practical reaction to Dawson’s point was this: Here was another time in which a Black woman showed how it’s done. Dawson’s mic-drop moment was simply her response to the first question asking panelists to introduce themselves. If this is how the discussion begins, imagine the potential for philanthropy if the genius of Black women was the model for leadership that the whole field followed.
We each have our own sense of what makes a great leader, informed largely by what we’ve already seen. But this “I know it when I see it” approach, or familiarity bias, can overlook the specific assets and skills leaders of color can bring, especially women of color. It’s a topic I think and research a lot about. But more on me later.
Meanwhile, below is a taste of what I heard from the other women Dawson shared the stage with. (The panel was hosted by my employer, the Bridgespan Group.) Together they showed what philanthropy looks like when Black women run things.
A Focus on Collaboration
Tynesha McHarris, co-founder and co-director of the Black Feminist Fund, put it this way: “One of the beauties of Black women’s leadership is we know the biggest, brightest work we do is always in community, and it’s always collective.”
In its first two years, the Black Feminist Fund has committed a whopping $14 million to 47 Black feminist movement organizations in 30 countries. Each organization was guaranteed annual grants for eight years with a typical grant minimum of $100,000 — the opposite of pocket change.
The fund employs participatory grantmaking, and McHarris credits a collective leadership approach for its success. “Often, the thing that the sector, white supremacy, and patriarchy teaches us is about king-making and queen-making — there’s only room for one. That is isolating, and it’s not sustainable. Instead, I rock with a team, and we make decisions collectively.”
Susan Thomas, president of Melville Charitable Trust, described Black women leaders as torchbearers, which implies leading the way by inspiring others. Thomas tries to inspire fellow grant makers by maintaining a laser focus on the root causes of social inequity, specifically when it comes to homelessness — the lack of pathways to permanent housing, the racial wealth gap, the racist housing policies. Melville regularly funds advocacy, grassroots organizing, education, research, and narrative work to shift public and political will.
“We will not end homelessness until we prevent and end it for Black and Brown people. It does not work the other way around,” Thomas said, sounding very much like a good neighbor.
Lastly, Carmen James Randolph, founding president and CEO of the Women’s Foundation of the South, explained the organization’s commitment to centering rest and renewal in its philanthropic approach.
The foundation’s WOC@Rest portfolio will bring together 300 women of color during the next five years in statewide cohorts to engage in healing and restorative practices. The women participate in a two-day healing retreat, receive both personal development grants for themselves and general operating grants for their organizations, and take part in a recorded storytelling exercise to highlight how they support women of color.
“Toni Morrison said, ‘As you enter positions of power and influence, dream before you think.’ That stays with me because the work requires us to dream, but you can’t dream if you don’t sleep,” Randolph said.
My 90 minutes of listening to these Black women in philanthropy ended up having several mic-drop moments. Perhaps that’s the point. Getting to the more equitable world many in philanthropy are trying to build requires routinely tapping into moments of genius.
I dream of the day when philanthropy embraces the leadership lessons of Black women. That includes valuing collective leadership, fearlessly funding advocacy and anything else necessary to tackle structural inequities, and understanding that rest is a powerful act to achieve social change. With thanks to Fred Rogers, what a beautiful day in the neighborhood that would be.
My Perspective
These musings mark my debut as a columnist for the Chronicle of Philanthropy. The assignment was to introduce myself and, on that front, I definitely buried the lede.
Here’s what you need to know about me: I’m senior editorial director of the Bridgespan Group. I’m part of the firm’s research initiative to advance racial equity in philanthropy, and I’m on the production team behind the podcast Dreaming in Color. I have a long career as a journalist and book author, writing about issues of race, equity, and justice. My most recent book is Impolite Conversations: On Race, Politics, Sex, Money, and Religion.
I’m also a proud introvert and active listener. I like small revelatory moments better than big ones. And I am a Black woman, daughter, partner, sister, auntie, and mother trying to raise two free Black children. For me, this column, which marks the beginning of our conversation together, is one way to live into the collaboration that comes from rocking with a team. I hope you stay along for the journey.
