As the Academy Awards ceremony approaches,, the competition will be among the most diverse slate of actors and directors ever nominated for the top awards. That would probably not have happened without the work of activist and influencer April Reign, whose 2015 viral hashtag, #OscarsSoWhite, aptly and succinctly challenged the lack of diversity in the Oscars.
This problem of racial exclusion is not limited to entertainment. It shows up in multiple professions, including philanthropy. Just like the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, philanthropy is predominantly white — 90 percent of foundation CEOs are white, and 85 percent of foundation boards are white. That’s why groups led by people of color receive far fewer foundation grants: the people directing where philanthropic investments go are most likely furthest from the pain of racism, poverty, violence, and other challenges.
Similar to Reign, Edgar three years ago launched a “ # PhilanthropySoWhite” campaign to shine a light on what is happening at foundations, acknowledging the pain of people of color who work as grant makers and inviting white leaders to examine their complicity with white supremacy and its culture. It’s an effort that builds on decades of work by people of color, including organizations like Groundswell Fund (directed by Vanessa), which offers donors a way to channel money to grassroots organizations selected by women and transgender people of color who have dedicated their lives to building movements.
For years, leaders of color like us have asserted that philanthropy must fundamentally change its ivory-tower culture. We need a radical shift in what our white leaders see as acceptable, who is esteemed as experts, and how success or worthiness is defined in funding circles. Philanthropy cannot achieve and demonstrate equity without doing so.
That was a point emphasized in Edgar’s book, Decolonizing Wealth, and since its publication in 2018, we have witnessed an era of reckoning. Small but important efforts are underway to offer reparations to Indigenous people and to the descendants of people who have been enslaved. For instance, Catholic Charities announced it would distribute $100 million in reparations. The Bush Foundation recently announced a $100 million commitment — the equivalent of 10 percent of its endowment — to start two community trust funds to address the wealth disparities caused by historic racial injustice for Black and Native Americans in their region. This significant action was inspired by a model for philanthropic reparations outlined in Decolonizing Wealth.
But that was only the beginning. Society writ large has seen fundamental shifts in the past few years. We have experienced the trauma resulting from a white supremacist in the White House, a global health crisis that has upended life as we know it, and the overdue reckoning about what marginalized people experience. Even now as we await the outcome of the Chauvin trial a year after the murder of George Floyd and continue to witness ongoing violence against Black and Brown people, we know that the effects of these shifts will linger for decades.
For Black and Indigenous people and other people of color, white supremacy has been the pre-existing condition that has exacerbated every other pain. In fact, there is no facet of the lives of Black and Indigenous people and people of color that is not influenced by race and racism. Even for Asian Americans who have long been falsely characterized as the model minority, the level of race-based hate many are experiencing, spurred by former President Trump, is breathtaking. The fatal shooting of mostly women, and mostly Asian Americans, at several Atlanta area spas gives many pause and testifies to the danger of stoking the flames of hatred. These acts add urgency to the work of making Black, Indigenous, and people of color a key priority in every industry.
As we work to make this so, our campaign for equity and inclusion has never been more critical. This winter brought together over 6,000 grant makers to join an online conversation on #PhilanthropySoWhite.
It was not your traditional videoconference of professional colleagues. It was a discussion of the hidden truths of philanthropy, which often perpetuate harm under the pretense of “best practices and operating procedures.” It was a public accounting of the ways in which white-led philanthropy is hurting the very people it sets out to help — people of color. It was a rare moment when those championing equity and inclusion felt seen and heard by people in positions of power. It was a gathering fueled by a clear thirst for change. The Decolonizing Wealth Project has since released a #PhilanthropySoWhite discussion guide. We encourage everyone to use it as you hold a watch party.
The discussion made clear some key ways white people in philanthropy can do much to bring about change. Among them:
Use power and influence for the good of people of color. Open doors and broker introductions. Pick up the phone and put in a good word. Remove obstacles. When you are in rooms without people of color, speak up about it and unrig the game. The decision to not use your power for good is a decision. It is not neutral. It is not indecision.
Work rigorously for racial justice for the long haul. Since white supremacy culture is pervasive within society, racial justice is lifelong work. White people must commit to take ownership for deconstructing the systems that created the situation we find ourselves in today while working in solidarity with people of color to create new systems.
Relinquish control. The cornerstone of white supremacy is the need to dominate and control. Freedom and liberation can never be built from that cornerstone. The only way to freedom for all people is to lay down a new cornerstone for equity and sharing.
Recognize the difference between influence, representation, and power. Inviting people of color into structures in which we are accountable not to our own communities but to white millionaires and billionaires who have the power to hire and fire, to ‘take our ideas under advisement,’ is not an invitation to share power. Real power comes from appointing people of color into top roles, including by creating new roles or encouraging some leaders to step down and step aside. By offering real power to people of color, grant makers are actively dismantling the power structures that marginalize millions every day.
Move more money to organizations run by people of color. The longest journey in philanthropy is from the conversation to the writing of checks. The jury is out on whether the current surge of interest in the discussion will translate into sustained giving at a scale that looks different. If grant makers really want to be anti-racist, they need to be willing to relinquish control of money. They should put their wealth into the control of organizations led by people of color, including wealth-management companies, grassroots organizations with the power to redistribute funds or invest them in land, property, or for-profit endeavors geared to create diverse and evergreen revenue streams for movements. Often funds like those we founded (Groundswell Fund and Liberated Capital) have the relationships, trust, and accountability of the people they serve, but we lack sufficient capital.
For decades, Black, Indigenous and other people of color have championed racial-justice work in philanthropy. The question for the nation, particularly for those with power: Is there public will to finally address inequity? It is not just that philanthropy is so white. Far too many industries do not look like America. This is not a function of people of color being unskilled or ill-equipped but about white people being unwilling to relinquish or share power.
People of color have been leading this work doing our own healing. White people, now it is your turn. Do your work. Help philanthropy, and every other industry, lay a new cornerstone of true inclusion and power sharing with people of color.
