Dallas Fort Worth Nonprofit Business Journal

Author: Vu Le

  • 10 predictable responses from white dudes when people criticize inequitable systems

    This post may ruffle some of you, especially if you’re a fragile white dude, so before I begin, I want to let you know that some of my best friends are white dudes. (Ben, Chris, Kevin, I miss you all; let’s find a time to hang out; I’ll download some Creedence Clearwater Revival and Johnny Cash we can listen to.) I say that as a joke, but it’s also true. There are amazing white dudes in our sector and in society doing critical work making the world better. Still, we need to have a talk.

    Over the past several years, I’ve been bringing up all sorts of issues with our sector, like the fact that 90% of philanthropic dollars go to white-led orgs, how inequitable it is for nonprofits to ask their own staff to donate, and why we need to always use the Oxford Comma. I’m very appreciative of colleagues who take time to read and consider, even if they don’t agree with the stuff I say. I get plenty of pushback, which is fine. Our sector can often be too nice; we do need to be a little more assertive.

    All that said, lately the responses from white dudes when their buttons are pushed when inequity is called out have been so predictable as to be boring. Not just on this blog, but everywhere. I love a good debate, but so many responses from white dudes are nowhere in the realm of validity or originality. They are pedestrian! Jejune! (And I do not use “jejune” lightly).

    I am listing some common ones I encounter and also providing some counterarguments to save you time when you run into similar responses; maybe just forward them this link and the number(s) that pertains to them (“Chad, please see Number 2 and 6”). But also, if you’re a white guy, use this list to check yourself when you are about to push back on something that a person who is not a white dude says regarding inequitable things that need to change.

    1. “Instead of just complaining, what solutions do you propose?” White dudes love calling out what they perceive to be the lack of solutions. However, people who have been most affected by systemic injustice have been proposing solutions. We do it all the time. But when you have privilege, it often prevents you from being able to even perceive, much less comprehend, solutions that might challenge that privilege. I call this “Solutions Privilege;” read up on it.
    2. “Prove it! What data/evidence do you have?” There is so much data that’s out there regarding every point we bring up, and a simple google search would bring it up. For instance, someone demanded I “prove” to him that there’s a racial element to wealth and wealth hoarding. The Whiteness of Wealth by Dorothy A. Brown is an entire book with data about how wealth has been concentrated in white communities through racist policies. What these “prove it” people want is not data, but for us to do the labor it takes to distill that data down to digestible bits that they can then dismiss, and no amount of data would actually change their mind.
    3. “People would listen better if you were nicer.” Over the past few weeks, I’ve been accused of sounding angry several times. A white dude recommended I be nicer because it’ll be easier for people to take things in when they’re gently talked to. Yeah, no. Marginalized and racialized people have been nice for decades; it often doesn’t work. If someone has the energy and patience to help people with power and privilege walk down the path toward equity, that’s great. But those of us who are angry have every right to be, and the focusing on civility and respectability makes you the kind of white moderate that Dr. King warned us was the biggest barrier to justice.
    4. “The system is what it is; you just need to develop skills!” “Grants are not inequitable; you just suck at grantwriting!” “There’s nothing wrong with saying ‘100% of your donations go to programming’; you need to work on your org’s marketing!” “Women just need to learn to negotiate salaries better.” Why change unjust systems when you can just blame the people who are most harmed by them? But the reality is that the people most harmed by these systems actually have the best skills in navigating them. Like poor people are amazing at financial management; they have to be in order to survive. Marginalized people have plenty of skills; that’s not the problem.
    5. “People have a right to do whatever they want; if you don’t like it, don’t engage.” If you’re a white dude, you often have the privilege to leave or not engage when you don’t like something, because either way, it doesn’t affect you as much; this is not true for everyone. I talk a lot about philanthropy, and I frequently encounter this assertion that foundations and donors can do whatever they want with their money, why is it any of my business. Sorry, it’s not their money if they’ve been building the wealth off the backs of workers from marginalized communities, avoiding paying taxes, and hoarding money that could be used democratically, which disproportionately affects us.
    6. “The free market…supply and demand…Keynesian economics…” White guys love sounding smart by mentioning various terminologies and concepts, as if women or people of color have never heard of them. Dudes, we know them; a lot of our work is to undo the harm that many of these philosophies and concepts, which have often been unleashed on the world by white men, have caused.
    7. “Why are you bullying [white people, foundations, corporations, donors, other people with power]?” I got accused of being a bully for launching #CrappyFundingPractices, a hashtag on Twitter where I publically call out foundations for harmful or annoying practices like not funding staff salaries or requiring budgets to be done using the funder’s own template. I do not have the financial, legal, or political power of the average foundation or corporation so I am not sure how I can bully them. Calling out people and institutions who do have these powers is necessary for change, and those who have more privilege, especially white men, should be doing it more often.
    8. “Not all [white dudes, tech bros, donors, foundations, etc.]”: This is a classic! Whole articles have been written about this response. There are hashtags like #NotAllMen to poke fun of it. And we still see it all the time. “I’m a white man, and I grew up poor, so there’s no such thing as racism,” etc. The inability to separate specific individual cases from systemic patterns is alarming and irritating. If you read this list and you’re like “But…but not all white dudes do these things…” then you have totally missed the point. Find a white friend who gets it to explain it to you.
    9. “You’re the one bringing race into this; you’re the racist.” White people who call people of color racist whenever we bring up inequity, are exhausting. Their ignorance is draining. Most of us know by now that institutional power is an essential element of racism, so no, a person of color can’t be racist against a white person, because we don’t have collective institutional power. You would know this if you were up to date with your homework before you engage in the conversation. Until you catch up, stay silent; do not pollute the discourse with your willful ignorance.
    10. “I see that you’re not interested in a dialogue.” Fragile white dudes seem to think that people owe them intellectual debates at any given time, and when marginalized people refuse to comply, they deploy this sad-puppy response. A dude who has little experience in nonprofit and philanthropy messaged me on Twitter to tell me how disappointed he is that I won’t engage with him on his pushback to my assertion that philanthropy is rife with inequity. Sorry, I and others do not have time or interest to teach you stuff for free.

    There are other responses (11. “Devil’s advocate,” 12. “all things being equal,” 13. “white men actually have it bad too,” 14. “freedom of speech/first amendment,” 15. “#NotJustWhiteDudes” 16. “Oh, so you can criticize white people, but we can’t do it back,” 17. “wow you really hate white people,” etc.) but I’ll stop here for now.

    To the white dudes reading this and seething in front of their computers or phone, chill out. I didn’t call you a bad person. Your reflexive first responses are just predictable, boring, exhausting, and thoroughly debunked. You’re in denial, and it’s holding back progress. If we’re going to have thoughtful, productive dialogs that will move our collective work forward, our conversations can’t be stuck at this basic level.

  • Why pitch-based funding competitions are harmful and we need to stop having them

    Last week, I was on Clubhouse in a conversation called “If Nonprofits Were Brutally Honest with Funders” (with colleagues Dr. Rahsaan Harris, Kris Putnam-Walkerly, and Julie Morris). After my remarks about power dynamics, the injustices upon which much of philanthropy is based, and how so little funding goes to organizations led by marginalized communities, listeners were invited to join in. The first person said something about how people of color should learn to “pitch” better so that funders and donors could understand their ideas. (Another person said being nice and getting people to empathize and bringing them ice cream to eat and puppies to snuggle with would work better in soliciting funding than my “angry complaints,” but that’s for another post).

    The idea of “pitching” is not new. We have been trained to do “elevator pitches” that are supposed to be pithy yet moving, sincere yet polished, inspiring yet grounded, all in 20 seconds. We pitch to donors, funders, politicians, partner orgs, volunteers. Grants, meanwhile, are basically just long pitches. We do a lot of pitching.

    The most extreme manifestation of this idea of “pitching” are the “Shark Tank”-style funding opportunities where leaders go on stage to give short presentations about their organizations’ work to a live audience, after which, depending on how they do and how the “judges” and people watching their presentations react, they could walk away with one of several small grant prizes.

    Like many philosophies and practices in our sector that we’ve accepted as normal, pitch-based funding opportunities can seem fine, fun, and helpful. Often, participants get mentorship and training on public speaking and obtain some experience. A colleague who participated in one of these competitions told me she got to know other participants and it was not at all competitive; people supported one another and everyone had a great time. These competitions can be done with a spirit of camaraderie and public awareness and not the cutthroat events they could potentially become. Plus, they are certainly more interesting for everyone than the traditional, tedious grantmaking process.

    However, just because something CAN be done well doesn’t mean it SHOULD be done at all. After attending many of these pitch events, talking to folks who have gone through them, and weighing the pros and cons, I think they are more harmful than helpful to our sector and we should phase them out completely. Here are several reasons why:

    They entrench existing power dynamics between funders/donors and nonprofits: Why is it always nonprofits that are pitching to funders and donors? Why is it never the other way around? Simple: Because one party has money, and in our society that means they by default get to call the shots. But is this what we want to reinforce? Why should people who have money have so much power, and the people who are actually doing the work of running programs and services have to jump through hoops? How can we become equal partners in this work if we keep reinforcing the asymmetric power differentials that are already pervasive everywhere else?

    They’re inequitable, rewarding the organizations that can play the game best: Grant applications are usually inequitable because the organizations that can write the “best” proposals usually win, and they tend to be mainstream, white-led orgs. Pitch-based competitions have the same challenges: Those who win tend to be the best presenters, the most charismatic, and the ones with the missions that most tug at heart-strings. Participants from marginalized backgrounds, who may not be as fluent in English as others, or who may not have as much presentation skills, or whose missions are harder to explain or get people to care about, are often left behind. Also, who can participate as judges and audience members? Mostly well-off white people and others of privilege.

    They perpetuate competitiveness among different interrelated missions: Sure, when done thoughtfully, they can be friendly competitions. But they are competitions nonetheless. There is already so much jostling in our sector for resources: grants, donations, media coverage, even talent. We need to do a much better job understanding that all our missions are interrelated and we should be supporting one another. Funders complain about nonprofits not collaborating enough, especially to work on systemic issues, and yet every day they force nonprofits to compete with one another through their funding processes, including these pitch competitions, which my colleague Mari Kim likens to Squid Game, but less interesting.

    They turn the work of equity and justice into spectacles: A major reason so many of us were upset at the proposed show on CBS called “The Activist” is that it reduces critical causes into entertainment. These pitch-based competitions are basically just smaller, local versions of that show. There are already enough ingrained expectations in our sector that we manipulate our messaging to make our work emotionally resonant and easily digestible to people with money. We shouldn’t have to also simultaneously develop skills to entertain them too, as that only conditions people to pay attention to stuff that rouses their interests, not what would most be needed to build a just and equitable world (that stuff tends to be less entertaining).

    They reinforce ignorance among the public: Oftentimes, the people “judging” the competitions as well as those in attendance may have never worked at nonprofits addressing these causes or had any first-hand experience in these issues at all. And yet they get the microphone and ask ridiculous questions or make comments that further the public’s misperceptions of nonprofits. One colleague told me she failed to get funding because one “judge,” a dude from the tech sector, asked how her mission was going to be self-sustaining (Most nonprofits will never be self-sustaining and it is a delusion to think they will ever be). Questions on sustainability, overhead, scaling, etc. betray a complete lack of understanding of how nonprofits actually run and reinforce harmful misinformation, making nonprofits’ work even more difficult.

    They are time-consuming and distracting: These competitions require significant investment in time and energy. Meeting with mentors, practicing, rehearsals, etc. This competition hosted by Morgan Stanley for funding to address children’s mental health, for example, requires participants to attend six weeks of trainings on pitching and other stuff. The people working hard to ensure children have mental health support do not need training on public speaking or making pitches or whatever. They need money! That’s something we need funders and donors to understand: Stop wasting our time on nonsensical stuff and making us jump through flaming hoops for your entertainment or edification and just provide money.

    They are insulting and patronizing: As one colleague put it regarding a competition in her community: “nonprofit staff are forced to perform for self-described ‘sharks,’ who regularly insult and belittle staff for failing to be sufficiently entrepreneurial. Be prepared to dance, monkey, dance.” If it’s not overtly insulting, it’s often patronizing. “If nonprofits develop their speaking and pitching skills, they can approach other funders; you know, teach someone to fish, etc.” This is a condescending attitude that is too prevalent among funders and donors. Do not create ridiculous and inequitable processes and think you’re doing nonprofits a favor by helping them develop skills in navigating the ridiculousness and inequity.

    For these and other reasons, I’d like for us to move away from pitch-based competitions altogether. Let’s phase them out completely. I know there are counter-arguments we can make, but almost any and every benefit of pitch-based competitions (getting to know other nonprofits, exposing the public to important causes, developing presentation skills) can be done in other, better ways.

    Let’s be more thoughtful and fund in more equitable ways. The whole concept of “pitching” is problematic and it goes way beyond these competitions. As colleague Yvonne Moore of Moore Philanthropy said during that Clubhouse discussion, and I paraphrase: “We [communities of color and other marginalized communities] are really good at pitches. People just don’t hear us.”

  • DAFs: What They Are, Which Misguided Orgs Oppose Mild Legislations on Them, and Why You Should Care

    Hi everyone. Donor-Advised Funds (DAFs) is not the most riveting of topics, I will admit. Sometimes, when I have insomnia, I read about DAFs, and that usually does the trick, especially when combined with some melatonin. However, they are rapidly growing as a vehicle for charitable giving, have almost no regulations whatsoever, and are rife with inequity. So we all need to care about them.

    It seems though that some colleagues are still confused by DAFs and what the problem is and so don’t want to tune in to this conversation. I’m going to explain it simply for those not familiar, so that you don’t fall asleep; apologies to colleagues who are more knowledgeable in this area than I am.

    Imagine that you made millions of dollars selling naturally fermented pickle products. After buying yourself a yacht, you think “Huh, I should probably donate some money to charity. That will help people and also prevent me from paying so much in taxes, win-win.”

    So you decide you will donate $1,500,000. But you don’t know very much about philanthropy, being a pickle tycoon and all. Luckily, there are organizations that can help you. “Hey, open a Donor-Advised Funds with us and put your $1.5M there,” says your local community foundation, “we’ll take a percentage of that as administrative fees and will help you find the most amazing nonprofits to give to!” You open a DAF of $1.5M. You get a tax break that year, yay! Things are going great so far!

    But you’re still not sure which causes to give to. And there is no law that says you have to give out any of the money you put into a Donor-Advised Fund EVER. 10 years pass, and each year you give out a little bit of money because the community foundation encourages you to. You decide to dribble out a bit of that 1.5M each year to the private school your kids attend. You still pay the management fee to the foundation, but that’s OK since your original amount is actually growing because it’s being invested. Maybe, one day, you’ll find an amazing cause that resonates with you. Until then, your growing 1.5M is safely in the DAF; you can keep adding to it every year and reducing your tax burden each time.

    Meanwhile, it turns out that you came from a wealthy family, which is how you were able to have the capital to start the pickle business in the first place. Your family has a private foundation. It’s been run by your sister Dilly, who gets a nice salary for managing it. It has an endowment of 100M, so by law it has to spend at least $5M out each year to meet the 5% payout rate in the US. But this year, for whatever reasons, it was only able to spend out 4M, including Dilly’s and other staff salary, along with other expenses the foundation incurs, such as the retreat where Kenny Loggins was hired to perform his classics (Yes, under current laws, Kenny Loggins’s performance fee can count toward the 5% payout rate, since it was for a foundation-related function). Dilly calls you up, freaking out for failing to meet the 5% legally required payout. “Chill, Dill,” you tell her, “it may seem jarring, but you’re not in a pickle; just park 1M in a DAF, and you’re good!”

    While you and your family are trying to be philanthropic though, some mean, cranky people decided to spoil everyone’s fun. They are pushing something called the Accelerate Charitable Efforts (ACE) Act. This law would affect a few things, namely:

    1. If you put money into a DAF this year, you can take a tax break this year, but you have to give it out to nonprofits within the next 15 years; or you can wait up to 50 years, but you can’t take a tax break until you actually give the money out. (If you start a DAF at a qualified community foundation, this proposed new policy won’t even apply to you unless your DAF is at least 1M.)

    2. Private foundations can no longer count the money they park into DAFs as part of their 5% legally required payout rate. So that 1M you advised Dilly to put into a DAF would actually NOT be countable toward the 5%. She would have to find some other way to spend the 1M, hopefully by actually giving it out to nonprofits.

    3. Family members’ salaries and travel expenses can no longer count toward that 5% payout rate. A family foundation can still hire a cousin or niece or whoever and pay them whatever it wants, it just can’t count it as part of that 5%. So the salary Dilly gets each year can’t count toward the 5%.

    OK, I hope that helps paint a picture and makes it more concrete for colleagues who are not familiar with DAFs and private foundation payout rates, because right now a battle is brewing regarding the ACE Act, which is surprising and frustrating, considering how completely mild and common-sense it is. Seriously, if I were in charge, I would force DAFs to be spent out within 5 years; require foundations to double their payout rate; ensure that the only money foundations can count toward that rate is the money they give out (not what they spend on salary and operations); make it illegal for foundations to hire their own family members; and a whole bunch of other related stuff, like changing the tax code so that people don’t have that much money to hoard into DAFs in the first place.

    So yes, even with this no-brainer set of policies, there is opposition. The organizations against it are coming up with all sorts of spurious arguments, which our colleague Al Cantor rips apart here. Arguments like DAF actually encourage people to give out more money, or have higher payout rates than foundation, or democratize philanthropy. They really don’t. Says Al, “Look at the Michigan report. Last year was the definitive rainy day for America. Not only did 35 percent of DAFs distribute nothing at all, but 57 percent of Michigan DAFs distributed less than 5 percent.”

    A colleague told me he was in a meeting with a Senate staffer who was commenting on the level of opposition to this very moderate ACE Act he was encountering on the Hill from the philanthropic establishment and right-wing orgs. “It’s disgusting the lengths they’re going to defend spending nothing,” says the staff.

    Here they are, the organizations in our sector that are opposing the ACE Act:

    Council on Foundations (COF): The new strategic direction the Council is touting is all about how “awake” they are, seeking to build trust, relationships, equity, etc. So how about instead of blocking efforts like the ACE Act, they follow the lead of WA BIPOC ED Coalition, whose number one call is to double payout to 10%? Or Give Blck, which supports the initiative on which the ACE Act is based?

    National Philanthropic Trust (NPT): NPT has been using all sorts of misleading and distorted information in defense of DAFs, as this article by Dan Petegorsky documents. “The ACE Act would actually mandate a minimum requirement that is far, far below the payout levels NPT says DAFs already meet. So why is NPT so defensive about it? Because even as NPT uses concocted payout rates to argue that money is readily flowing out to charity, their own figures show that, on average, 76 percent of DAF funds in fact remain warehoused.”

    Philanthropy Roundtable (PR): Philanthropy Roundtable is a conservative organization vocally disdainful of Critical Race Theory and loudly proclaims that racial justice is irrelevant to philanthropy. It is no surprise that they would be opposed to anything that damper rich people’s ability to hoard money and spend it on what pet causes tickle their fancy.

    United Way Worldwide. Why would a major charity oppose initiatives that would move more money to nonprofits? Probably the fear of alienating big donors. Sad, considering the important role United Way has played in our sector.

    Community Foundation Public Awareness Initiative (CFPAI): I love community foundations, they do a lot of good work, but the ones who oppose this ACT sadden me. You are often more fervent opposers of DAF regulations than even for-profit DAF-holding institutions like Fidelity. Please remember that you represent the community, not just wealthy donors who might be annoyed that if this Act passes, they’ll only have FIFTEEN YEARS to spend out money they warehouse through you after taking a tax break.

    While we have this unholy alliance above that wants to protect the inequitable status quo, I am glad and grateful for the leaders who are taking a stand IN SUPPORT OF ACE, including:

    State nonprofit associations, such as CalNonprofits and Minnesota Council of Nonprofits: It is not easy publicly supporting legislation that might incur the wrath of philanthropy when you depend on philanthropy to continue your work. Here’s CalNonprofits’s letter supporting the ACE Act and reminding us that “nationwide more than $1 trillion sits in private foundations and $140 billion in DAFs, rather than being used to support working charities.” Here’s MCN: “It is critical we acknowledge the current system is broken, and it is predominately white, wealthy donors benefiting from the lack of regulation.”

    Lots of foundations: While a whole bunch of foundations are misguided, many others are taking a stance in support of ACE. Here’s a coalition supporting the ACE Act, including Ford, Hewlett, Kellogg, and Kresge. Rural community foundations are also on board. Here’s Telluride Foundation in Colorado and Foundation for Appalachian Kentucky reminding everyone of the importance of “today’s dollars being used to confront today’s challenges.”

    Global Citizen!: Yes, they’ve gotten a lot of flak for the fiasco that is The Activist. At the same time, cofounder Michael Sheldrick wrote this important piece, As Endowments Rise And Billionaires Gain Wealth, The World’s Poor See Little Relief. “Leaders in philanthropy should respond to the urgency of this moment by paying out more — not less — to fuel an equitable global recovery and committing to reforms that ensure inequality and wealth disparities are not allowed to continue unchecked indefinitely. To do so, they need to critically examine the use of DAFs, urge their peers to give more and to give more quickly, and ultimately begin a conversation to question the idea of perpetual philanthropy.”

    Bill Schambra, a senior fellow at the Hudson Institute: Bill and I don’t always agree on things, but we are in agreement that philanthropy needs to stop fighting these very mild reforms. In this NYT article, How Long Should It Take to Give Away Millions?, he says “DAFs are an enormous whirlpool sucking that money away from charities into accounts that are institutionally inclined to be reluctant to disburse money.” I can’t agree more.

    The ACE Act, even with its common-sense proposals, will struggle to become law. Philanthropy has managed to derail every single effort to impose even the lightest of regulations. I am disappointed at those opposing the bill, and I hope they change their minds.

    Because this is a test for philanthropy, to see if it could regulate itself, to see if it could change after decades being entrenched in its archaic and destructive practices. It is a test to see which national organizations and leaders will defend the status quo that allows rich, mostly white people to continue hoarding money while leaders of color continue begging and screaming for change as the walls of inequity close in on Black and brown, disabled, and other marginalized communities during one of the worst health and economic crises of our lifetimes. If philanthropy is looking for a chance to demonstrate that it is willing to change—as Kenny Loggins would say, this is it.

  • I’m taking some time off to recharge, and you should too

    It’s 100 degrees in Seattle (and may reach 110 today), so I am kind of loopy and not in the mood for editing. I want to let you know that I’ll be taking the entire month of July off from writing, most meetings, and most social media, so this will be the last NAF post until August 2nd. Except for a couple of speaking engagements, I’ll be spending time with my family, catching up with a few friends, tidying up the house, and melting into the couch with some cold coconut water while playing Earthbound or Final Fantasy III/VI. It’ll be glorious!

    I hope that you will find time to rest as well. Let’s face it, our sector sucks at doing this. And because we are self-deprecating, we make light of it all the time, for instance this post “Vacation tips for nonprofit professionals who suck at vacationing,” including, from colleague Cheri Kishimoto, “Set SMART goals that align with your vacation strategic plan to keep you focused on relaxing and sustainable vacationing practices. Take lots of notes and be prepared to do a 10-15-minute presentation to your coworkers on what you learned about relaxing on vacation.”

    We can joke all we want, but it’s a serious problem. Many of us are exhausted on a regular basis, and the pandemic has exacerbated our weariness. I read this article “Your ‘Surge Capacity’ is Depleted—It’s Why You Feel Awful” and it really resonates. The author, Tara Haelle, brings up the concept of “ambiguous loss” or “any loss that’s unclear and lacks a resolution.” The pandemic is a serious example of that: We don’t know when it will end, or if it ever will, or how things will be in the coming years.

    We’ve also faced so much ambiguous loss socio-politically over the past few years, with the continuous assault on democracy, safety, and sense of stability. We never knew what horrifying things would come from the prior administration, if the cruelty would ever end.

    On top of that, the nonprofit sector exists in a constant state of ambiguity. Few funders provide stability, so most of us are hyper-vigilant, always on edge about cash flow, staffing, how long we can keep a program running, when the organization next door will find out that we’ve been stealing their wifi, etc.  

    This is a lot to deal with all at once, so a lot of us just don’t deal with it. We continue with our work, often engaging in a toxic obsession with productivity. Then we burn out, leave our jobs, move to a small fishing village, befriend the locals, fall in love with a fishmonger, and, after saving his life in a storm, finally win the grudging respect of our future father-in-law. Is that what we want happening all the time?

    We all need to do a much better job taking care of ourselves. We’ve been sacrificing our health. And it’s been affecting our work. When we are not at our best, our work suffers. We are not as thoughtful. We don’t think things through as we should. We are not able to generate or synthesize solutions as well. We don’t give one another as much grace. We take fewer risks.

    I know that taking a break here and there won’t solve the systemic issues in our sector, which include funding instability; lack of decent pay and benefits for frontline staff; racial and gender wage gaps; and so on. I know we also feel guilty about resting when so many in the world are suffering. But we cannot do our best work if we are not at our best.

    So, I hope you will take some time for yourself to do what recharges you, if you can (I know not all of us have the privilege or resources to do so). I don’t want to hear any more martyr-like wailing-with-a-hint-of-bragging from anyone about how they hadn’t taken a vacation in three years or whatever. That’s soooo cliché, and not something to brag about. Being exhausted and not operating at your full potential is not something to be proud of.

    And also, it’s unfair to your family and other people who care about you. Our work is so pressing that we often take our friends and family for granted. Advancing a more just and equitable world will take a while, but our time with the people we love is finite. I get asked often what I would tell my younger self if I could go back in time. And I always say—after making jokes about investing in Bitcoin—that I wish I had spent more time with my mother before she died. I had been so busy, and when I stopped to take a breath, she was gone.

    On one of my days off years ago, I visited Bruce Lee and Brandon Lee’s graves (they are buried here in Seattle). The quote on Brandon’s tombstone is something that I will always remember. It is from Paul Bowles’s book The Sheltering Sky:

    “Because we don’t know when we will die, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens a certain number of times, and a very small number, really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that’s so deeply a part of your being that you can’t even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more. Perhaps not even. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless.”

    I love my work. It is deeply meaningful. I cannot imagine doing anything else. I feel extremely lucky that I get to do it. I want to do it for as long as I can play a helpful role. And I also know there are only so many more chances to help create these “certain afternoons” of my kids’ childhoods. Maybe I’ll take them on some trips. Maybe I’ll introduce them to Final Fantasy VI, the greatest game ever.

    And maybe we’ll watch the next full moon rise. I hope you will too.

    See you on August 2nd.

  • OPINION: 20 subtle ways white supremacy manifests in nonprofit and philanthropy

    Hi everyone, this post may be less coherent and more serious than normal. I can’t stop thinking about the news regarding the remains of 215 Native children found at the site of a residential school in Kamloops, Canada. White Canadians – teachers, administrators, the church, the government – murdered them. It is deeply sad and horrifying. I can only imagine the pain and trauma these children endured, and what Indigenous families and communities have been going through.

    Meanwhile, this week marks the 100th anniversary of the Tulsa race massacre, where in the span of hours a mob of white people murdered hundreds of Black people, left thousands homeless, and burned Black Wall Street to the ground. It is profoundly horrendous, and something I don’t think our white-centric education system taught many of us.[Update: I want to give thanks and credit to K. Kennedy Whiters, Architect and Founder of unRedact the Facts, for giving me feedback and wording to revise the above two paragraphs. Originally, I had used the passive voice, which is another way that we all perpetuate white supremacy].

    Both of these atrocities, and so many others that we know about and don’t know about, are a result of white supremacy. However, so many of us are in denial. Not always denial like refusing to acknowledge that white supremacy exists. More so the subtle denial that we ourselves, who are Good People fighting for a just and equitable world, could further white supremacy. After all, we weren’t involved in the acts of genocide at Kamloops or Tulsa, we tell ourselves. This is what makes white supremacy so potent. It is often subtle. It happens in ways we often don’t think about.

    When I bring up white supremacy in meetings or presentations, sometimes I get the feedback of “that’s a really heavy term. Is it really applicable to this situation? Can’t we just call it ‘inequity’ or ‘injustice’ or something that won’t turn people off?” We are a sector terrified of naming things, even as we seek to fight them. But how can we be effective when we refuse to name what we’re fighting?

    Besides naming it, we need to have a better understanding of what it is. White supremacy is not just the cross burnings and racist marches and other awful things we see in the movies. In nonprofit and philanthropy, it manifests in ways we may not even realize, or in ways we refuse to acknowledge as white supremacy. These things add up. They make whiteness the default. They keep power concentrated in white leaders and institutions. It makes it easier for injustice against racialized people and communities to take place.

    Here are some examples, some subtle and some not-so-subtle, in no particular order. You may find yourself or your organization or foundation in some of them, and it might make you uncomfortable. I hope you reflect on it:

    1. Your nonprofit or foundation board is mostly white when the community you serve is mostly people of color; that’s white supremacy.
    2. Your organization has been “snowcapped,” meaning senior leaders are white while less-senior staff are people of color, and there is no plan to change this; that’s white supremacy
    3. Your donors are mostly white, and your fundraising practices are all about making them happy; that’s white supremacy
    4. Your conference speakers and presenters are mostly white; that’s white supremacy
    5. Your foundation hasn’t examined where its resources came from—possibly from slavery, stolen Indigenous land, or other injustices—that’s white supremacy
    6. You lean heavily on data and metrics while failing to understand that so many of these concepts stem from elite white institutions; that’s white supremacy
    7. You have a disparity between how much you pay white staff and staff of color; that’s white supremacy
    8. Your foundation contributes to the fact that 90% of philanthropic dollars go to white-led organizations in our sector; that’s white supremacy
    9. Your white-led organization applies for significant funds without stopping to think about how marginalized-communities-led organizations might be affected; that’s white supremacy
    10. Your organization/foundation has had mostly white CEOs/EDs, and now that you’re in crisis, you finally think about hiring a person of color, a phenomenon called the Glass Cliff; that’s white supremacy
    11. Your foundation talks about equity, diversity, and inclusion without moving significant resources to organizations and movements led by racialized and marginalized communities; that’s white supremacy
    12. Your capacity building recommendations are based on having communities-of-color-led organizations operate more like white-led organizations; that’s white supremacy  
    13. You conduct surveys, focus groups, or other forms of research and you don’t disaggregate by race, which often means the results are skewed toward white respondents, since there are more white people in our sector; that’s white supremacy
    14. You have a DEI committee that is given very little power and can only make recommendations that are often ignored (by mostly white senior leaders and board members); that’s white supremacy
    15. You ask staff of color to sit on a DEI committee or otherwise do DEI work for free; that’s white supremacy
    16. You create a list of recommendations such as top 10 leaders in philanthropy, top 20 blogs about data and evaluation, etc., and it’s mostly white people; that’s white supremacy
    17. You don’t stop to examine your vendors and whether they’re mostly white-owned or POC-owned; that’s white supremacy
    18. Someone brings up diversity and you say something like “I only care about qualifications” (as if they are mutually exclusive); that’s white supremacy
    19. You, a white person, apply for an ED/CEO position at an organization or foundation without pausing to reflect on whether this makes sense in the context of community history and demographics; that’s white supremacy
    20. You and I, as people of color, not examining our anti-Blackness and anti-Indigeneity, and our often-unconscious desire to be in proximity to whiteness; that’s us perpetuating white supremacy

    I’ll stop there for now. Please feel free to add to the list, in the comment section. If you recognize yourself or your organization in some of the items on this list, don’t spend too much time feeling bad; figure out what to do to fix it. Nonprofit and philanthropy can, and do, play a critical role in advancing equity and justice, but we can’t do it effectively if we continue being in denial about what constitutes white supremacy and the many subtle and pervasive ways we allow it to proliferate.

  • The real reasons many organizations are still unable to diversify their board, staff, fundraising committees, etc.

    Hi everyone, sorry this post is a day late (my laptop updated at the most inconvenient time last night and took hours). Before we get to this week’s topic, quick announcement. BEER, which stands for Beverage to Enhance Equity in Relationships, took a break last year, but is now back on this year. It is a time for foundation staff and trustees and nonprofit staff and board members to get together in their cities and just hang out and see one another as human beings. It usually happens around the Summer Solstice, so this year it’ll be around June 17th or 18th. Of course, grabbing some fries or ice cream together preferably outdoor or virtually is by no means a substitute for meaningful change in philanthropy, but it’s a start.

    However, we’re changing the name to be more thoughtful to colleagues who are in recovery or who don’t drink for religious or other reasons. The finalists so far are “Party to Enhance Equity in Philanthropy (PEEP),” “Beverage to Enhance Equity in Philanthropy (BEEP),” “Party to Enhance Equity in Relationships (PEER),” or “Power-Equalizing and Equity in Relationships (PEER).” Please go here to vote on it. I’m serious! It’ll take you literally 20 seconds. Feel free to suggest other names. I’ll announce the new name next week!

    One of the questions I get asked most often when I give presentations is “Vu, have you tried tea-tree oil for your acne?” But also just as frequently asked is “What advice do you have for my organization as we try to diversify our board, staff, etc.?” For years people have been asking how to diversify their orgs. This is discouraging. We’ve had endless DEI workshops, various “white papers” and articles, and at least one puppet show. What the heck is going on? Why do we suck so much at diversifying?

    Maybe we’ve been going about it all wrong. Whenever people ask me the above question, they tend to want some action-oriented answers such as “publicize job postings in ethnic media,” “provide childcare and transportation for board meetings,” “have a clear equity and diversity statement,” “provide more than just hummus, baby carrots, and a few cans of La Croix at meetings, especially if it’s around dinner time!” etc. These technical things are necessary but they’re not sufficient. Diversity is complex, and making a few technical changes is not going to cut it. If you’ve been having trouble diversifying your board, staff, fundraising committee, conference planning team, or whatever, here are a few things to reflect on, based on conversations I’ve had with colleagues from various diverse backgrounds:

    1.Are you still operating in a very white moderate way? A lot of people are tired of the same old white moderate way that most nonprofits and foundations continue to operate in. A quick scan of your website and social media will reveal whether your organization is still grounded in “civility” and “getting along” rather than radical change. If you’re not publicly condemning white supremacist violence, for example, or even engaging with this or other topics at all because it’s “too political” or “too controversial,” we will know. If your fundraising is still based on the comfort of white donors, we will know. A lot of people are tired of not just having to fight injustice outside the organization, but also within it. If you’re not ready to make some courageous decisions and major changes, most of us can sense it, and we’ll be staying far away.

    2.What indications exist that you’re serious about equity? People of color can tell when we’re being tokenized, as well as when you’re just talking a good game. For instance, you have a DEI committee, but the ED/CEO is not an active member of it. Or you talk about being committed to DEI, but your senior staff are mostly white while frontline and lower-paid staff are mostly people of color. Be ready to answer questions like “What steps have you taken to close the racial and gender wage gaps at your organization” or “How have you made things more accessible for disabled people?” with a list of tangible steps, or at least some self-awareness of shortcomings and an openness to change, if you want people to take you seriously.

    3.What barriers are you putting into place that you may not even be aware of? As I wrote about earlier, our default board model with its archaic philosophies such as “100% board giving” is deeply problematic and unconsciously discourages people of color and others who are not rich white donors from joining. The problem is that many of these barriers are unconscious, meaning you may not even realize they are barriers. For example, solutions privilege is a pervasive but often very subtle barrier to diversity. It’s really hard to ferret these things out, but you’ll need to spend some time doing it because it’s often not the visible, obvious reasons that people from diverse backgrounds are not joining you.

    4.How transparent and authentic are you in your approach? A challenge that many white-led organizations face is the Diversity Chicken And Egg Paradox: People of color don’t want to work in a place that’s mostly white, but if they won’t work there, then how will this place be less white? How do we break out of this Catch-22? You can start by being honest about the challenges you’re having and the goals you’re trying to accomplish. We’ve been trained as a sector to only position our organizations in the best light, but if you’re not willing to say publicly, “We are really white and we know this is a problem. We’re trying to better reflect our community. Here’s what we’re doing about it, so please give us a chance,” then a lot of candidates will scroll past pictures of your board and staff while scenes from Jordan Peele’s “Get Out” run through their minds.

    5.Are you open to reimagination and experimentation? Exciting things are on the horizon: Flatter leadership structures, decentralized power and decision-making, unions, movements instead of organizations, and possibly even paid internships! If you want diversity, be aware that many of us from marginalized communities are tired of the same old philosophies and practices we’ve all inherited from rich white people hundreds of years ago. If your organization, especially its leadership, is not open to imagining and trying new stuff we’ll be pushing, you may have trouble diversifying.

    6.Who do you have currently who needs to go or be removed? We tend to focus on who we should add to diversify our teams, when the reality is that more time needs to be spent figuring out who needs to go. It’s less fun to do this, and our sector in general is conflict-avoidant and doesn’t like to hurt people’s feelings. But bringing in hopeful new people and forcing them to work with entrenched parties who have to be dragged kicking and screaming onto the path of progress often ends badly. Think of it like gardening. Before planting new seeds for a vibrant, colorful garden, you may need to identify the weeds and give them a plaque and send them on their way.

    7.Are the “diverse” people you currently have aligned with equity? Black, Indigenous, AAPI, Latinx, disabled, LGBTQIA+ people are not monolithic. We have a right to hold differing opinions and perspectives. What that means though is that just because you have some “diversity,” does not mean folks are aligned in values and approach. There are many racialized and marginalized people who uphold white supremacy, white moderation, and the status quo, and it is often soul-crushing to work with them. Some of them may have to go before other people you want on your team will consider joining.  

    I know that’s a lot to think about, but this is a serious issue in our sector, and we need to think about it more. Let me know your thoughts. And while we work on the above—when it’s safe to have in-person meetings again, let’s all make sure the food is better. That’s still very important.

  • 10 ways to make executive leadership searches and transitions better and more equitable

    Hi everyone, quick announcement before we dive into this week’s exciting topic about executive search. If you’re free this Wednesday, April 21st, at 10am PT, please join me in this discussion “Moving to Racial Equity: What’s Getting in the Way!?! | A Conversation with Nonprofit Leaders.” It is cosponsored by Castellano Family Foundation and Silicon Valley Community Foundation. I’ll be flipping over tables as usual, but I’m trying to cut back on swearing, gosh darn it. It’s free; register here. Captions will be provided.

    Last week, I got this note from a colleague: “I work in philanthropy and was talking with a friend working at a non-profit, and we were sharing our frustrations about how opaque the search process was/is for new leaders at both our orgs, and how little staff and community involvement there was in the decision-making process. I’d love to see you tackle the way these searches happen and search firms and Board committees work currently, and suggest ways that we might work differently (even given the need for confidentiality about candidates to a point, etc).”

    This has been on my list of stuff to rant about for a while, so I appreciate the nudge. Last August, Nonprofit Quarterly’s Editor-in-Chief Cyndi Suarez wrote this brilliant piece on the topic, “What Does an Equitable Executive Leadership Transition Look Like?” It points out the inequity of our current philosophies and practices and proposes some new ways of doing things. I highly recommend everyone reads it.

    Unfortunately, like asking funders to increase payout rates, organizers of virtual conferences to add captions, and everyone to use the Oxford Comma, these critical points have to be brought up over and over again by many different voices before we see change. I’m going to reinforce some of the key messages in Cyndi’s article, while adding a few thoughts, because this is a serious issue in our sector, and it hasn’t been getting better (it seems to be getting worse?), so we need to talk about it more.

    Basically, the way our sector does executive searches and leadership transitions sucks. Many current Human Resources practices in general are inequitable, but that’s for another time. Leadership transitions and executive searches are often led by clueless mostly white boards that often default to hiring white search firms to reinforce inequitable white corporate philosophies. The entire process is usually expensive for the org, fraught with tension, and demoralizing for everyone, especially internal candidates who are often treated like chopped liver in the process.

    Yes, there are transitions and searches that do go well. There are also some great boards as well as some great search firms, including white-led ones. But overall, the way we’ve been doing this has not kept up with the conversations and evolution of our sector and world. It’s archaic, and worse, perpetuating inequity. If you are involved with leadership transition and hiring, here are a few things to consider:

    1. Determine whether your org may need a new structure: The hierarchical leadership model, where there’s one person at the top with vast power, is falling out of favor. This is good. As Ananda Valenzuela writes in this piece, the Executive Director Job Is Impossible. It is way too much burden to put on one person, and it leads to frustration and high turnovers. There are more and more conversations now about flat structures, distributed power, self-managing organizations, etc. Co-directorships, once unthinkable, are being adopted more and more. Building Movement Project, CompassPoint, and RVC are a few orgs in the growing list of organizations using co-leadership models. Get out of the mindset that you can only have a solitary magical unicorn leader.
    2. Enable staff to play a significant part in the decision: The traditional thinking is that hiring the ED/CEO is the board’s responsibility and final decision. Thus, many boards jealously guard it; imagine Gollum in Lord of the Rings sitting in the conference room, whispering “It’s ours, Precious, our decision! We gets to makes it!” But think about it. This person (or co-leaders), is someone the staff has to work with significantly more than the board does. It is archaic and nonsensical that the board hoards all this power to hire, when this is just a tradition. If you want staff to not hate board members’ guts, don’t just superficially “involve” staff, but discuss authentic collaboration and sharing of power regarding this decision. This is especially vital when so many boards are so white.
    3. Stop assuming an external search is needed: There is a very strong philosophy we’ve internalized, probably from the corporate sector, that competitive processes will yield the best candidates. I once strongly believed in this, to the point that when I founded RVC, after spending years laying the groundwork for it and raising enough money to hire its first staff member, I insisted on “competing” in an open process to be that person, and the board agreed. But now, I’m not sure that made any sense. The board spent months on this hiring process, and so many external candidates threw their hats in the ring. The desire to have an aura of “legitimacy” means we often waste so much time, resources, and energy, often for the same results, and sometimes worse.
    4. Seriously consider your internal leaders: I’ve seen so many amazing internal leaders across the sector get treated like crap after putting in years of dedication, their service rewarded with having to report to an outsider the board hired whom the internal leaders also have to teach the ropes to. Many of these leaders end up leaving. And who could blame them? Our sector keeps pontificating about succession planning while treating our internal leaders like trash. Don’t just give them the opportunity to compete like everyone else, but seriously assess whether the internal leader(s) would not only advance the work of the orgs. And be thoughtful about whether your bias toward open processes is based on what you’ve been taught to believe, not what the staff may want, or what may be good for the organization.
    5. Work with search firms led by Black, Indigenous, People of Color: If you are using a search firm, spend time and money finding BIPOC-led companies, especially if you are trying to be thoughtful about hiring leaders who come from communities of color or other marginalized communities. Again, there are some good white-led consulting firms, I’m not dismissing everyone. But more often than not, I encounter white-led firms sending me emails asking me for help finding candidates of color. And I’m like “I noticed you didn’t disclose the salary range in this posting; please disclose it, because not doing so reinforces racial and gender wage gaps, here’s some resources,” and they’re like, “Thank you for educating us.” You’re the hiring firm! You’re paid for this! People of color shouldn’t have to educate hiring firms on this or other equitable hiring practices! Anyway, I asked colleagues on Twitter for some recommendations on BIPOC-led search firms, so here are a few.
    6. Stop using white-determined standards of qualifications: We are still stuck in many traditional inequitable philosophies and practices that have been chosen by white people over decades, and these practices are particularly sticky when it comes to hiring the “top” positions. For instance, requiring a formal degree for jobs that are not specialized (like counselors, lawyers, CPAs, etc.) is inequitable, yet many positions still require formal degrees, and for ED/CEO positions, this is even more of a deal-breaker. We have to move out of these white-determined proxies for qualification that rely on formal credentials, technical skills, the ability to code-switch, be “professional,” etc. Consider different standards of qualifications: Direct experience being affected by systemic injustice, connections and relationships with communities being served, etc.
    7. Examine your biases toward certain types of leaders: This article by Community Wealth Partners lays out the problem of the self-reinforcing cycle that leads to a majority white staff. This is vital for boards to understand, because many boards are white, so they tend to hire white EDs/CEOs, who then hire white staff. As another example, many boards, because they are full of corporate folks, tend to gravitate toward leaders from the corporate sector, even if those leaders have no experience running a nonprofit. I wrote about this earlier; it is insulting and annoying. These biases prevent boards from seeing and appreciating candidates, especially if these candidates are BIPOC, disabled, etc. We need to break out of these cycles by doing some self-reflecting and by hiring people from marginalized communities to help us think and act differently than what we’re unconsciously used to.
    8. Be transparent about your process and progress: Transitions can take a long time, especially if you’re exploring different leadership models and trying to be inclusive and equitable. You may need to hire an interim leader. Whatever you’re doing, be clear about it as you go along, especially when it comes to staff. Remember, this new leader or co-leaders will be overseeing them, and nothing is more frustrating and anxiety-inducing than having no clue who or when or what the hell is coming down the line. It’s disrespectful. Many orgs hire someone, and then within months the rest of the team quits because the process was so opaque and insulting.
    9. Engage the community in the process: Every couple of years, Seattle Public Schools searches for a new superintendent. It’s a grueling process. A common complaint from students and parents is that people don’t get engaged enough in the decision, and then bam, we’re stuck with someone the board chose. Of course, few nonprofits are as big as a school district, but even so, the people we serve have a right to be informed and engaged in this process of choosing the leader(s) who will affect services and programs. Again, when boards are often so white and full of well-meaning-but-out-of-touch people, meaningful community involvement in hiring leaders is not just a nice-to-have, but essential.
    10. Prepare your organization if you’re bringing in BIPOC, disabled, trans, and other leaders from marginalized communities: Many organizations are so focused on the hiring process itself and making sure it goes well based on white-determined standards that they don’t devote enough time and energy into ensuring the org won’t drive the new leader(s) away. This topic warrants its own post, but so many leaders from marginalized communities are set up for failure because the org hasn’t done its work before the leader(s) arrives. Like an org that’s historically white-led bringing in its first leader of color. The preemptive work includes assessing for equity gaps (such as gender and racial pay disparity, lack of accessibility, etc.), having discussions about how to intentionally support the new leader, reflecting on what happens when the new leader proposes ideas that may clash with the board, and preparing for pushbacks from donors who are still “on the journey toward equity” or whatever.

    The process we’ve been taught for doing executive searches is often inequitable. Like many other things in our sector, it tends to reward white, male, neurotypical, extroverted, external, corporate-minded candidates and reinforces crappy systems. In the words of Gollum: “Curse it and crush it! We hates it forever!” It’s time for a change. As we work to better align fundraising, evaluation, grantmaking, capacity building, etc., with equity, so must we do this with our leadership transition and executive search practices.

  • Funders: Here’s a Tool to Make your Grantmaking More Equitable

    It is not a secret that I am not a big fan of the way grantmaking has been done in our sector. Often, the foundations who claim to be aligned with equity continue to use truly crappy funding practices that perpetuate inequity. As a reminder, only 7% of philanthropic dollars go to organizations led by and serving Black, Indigenous, Latinx, and POC communities, and 3% go toward serving disabled people, according to this summary by Candid. Trans communities, meanwhile, receive only .015% “or a penny for every $100.”

    If foundations are serious about moving funding to the communities that are most affected by systemic injustice, then their funding philosophies and practices must evolve. My previous organization RVC and I collaborated to develop this Equitable Grantmaking Continuum, based on our experience working with grassroots organizations led by and serving marginalized communities these past several years, and taking a few pointers from efforts such as Trust-Based Philanthropy and Grantadvisor.org. Here’s the full-version, and here’s the one-pager you can print out and hang on your wall. Use this tool to analyze how your foundation is doing and then start taking action. Here are things to keep in mind:

    This tool is a guide and as such it will change: Use this as a way to assess your foundation’s grantmaking practices, think about why you do things a certain way, what impact you may be having, and what things you can do differently. This tool, however, is not set in stone. Communities are not monolithic, and we expect nonprofits may disagree with some of the items in this assessment. That’s good and healthy. We’ll take feedback and change and adapt as we go along.

    As with all tools, thoughtless usage may further inequity: April Nishimura, RVC’s Director of Capacity Building, brings up a good point: “If item 1 (targeting giving to marginalized communities) is not achieved, then a lot of these practices can exacerbate inequities by locking up a lot of foundation’s money into multi-year grants based on an insular grant-making process of who they know and trust (aka white-led orgs).” This is critical to consider. If funders are not intentional, then “improving” grantmaking processes often only end up further helping the organizations that already benefit most from the system.

    Do not spend time in toxic intellectualization: By this we mean funders spending endless hours in meetings debating these points, wasting months or years trying to make sure things are perfect before implementing. It’s important to do research and reflection, but honestly marginalized communities are exhausted waiting on funders to take meaningful action. Stop dilly-dallying in the name of “due diligence” or whatever and get stuff done, even if it’s not perfect.

    Be OK making mistakes and failing: Taking action means on occasion we will make mistakes, and some people might get mad. You need to be OK with that. The alternative is continuing a system where funders are so terrified of liabilities and being called out that they maintain the status quo. Equity work is messy. We will all make mistakes. Set a good example by embracing mistakes and failures, learning from them, and allowing other funders to do the same.  

    Take a public stand on equity: Some funders in private say that they are focusing on getting funding to communities that are most affected by systemic injustice, but they refuse to admit this in public. If this is your foundation, get over it. You cannot advance equity without courage. The first and most important item in this tool assesses whether you are “color-blind” in your grantmaking or if you are intentionally moving funding to marginalized communities. If you are serious about advancing equity and planning to focus funding on marginalized communities, be public about it and help normalize this practice.

    This does not substitute for more radical shifts in philanthropy: If you find this tool helpful, that’s great, but understand that many of the items here represent an incremental approach to improving grantmaking. We simultaneously need to work on more radical solutions, such as increasing the minimum payout rate, abandoning grant proposals altogether, and exploring different forms of grantmaking such as participatory grantmaking. Most importantly we need to reform inequitable systems, such as changing the tax codes so that rich people pay their fair share of taxes. 

    Take a look at the tool (again, here’s the full-version and the one-page version). Like any other tool, it won’t solve all the problems, but it can be a good start. Discuss with your board and staff. Go through each item and see where you can move from Level 1 or 2 to Level 3. See where you can improve even beyond that.

    And if you get stuck or overwhelmed, just remember this ancient proverb: “If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, give Multi-Year General Operating Dollars (MYGOD), invest in BIPOC leaders, and knock it off with all the BS in your grant applications.”

  • Answers on Grant Reports if Nonprofits were Brutally Honest with Funders

    Hi everyone, this Friday is my birthday. If you want to help me celebrate, please donate to Mujer Al Volante, an awesome organization with the mission of helping “immigrant women become independent and empowered through obtaining a driver’s license, financial sustainability, and community support.” Mujer Al Volante does amazing and important work; thanks for supporting it. Don’t worry about me; I got myself some dark chocolate and a 3-pound bucket of Maldon salt, so I’m good until next year.

    Grant reports. We all love to hate them. A reason is that like most things related to grants, we’ve learned to tell funders what we think they want to hear. Imagine if we could be honest, though:

    1. What progress did you make on your proposed outcomes? You and other funders have created an atmosphere of absolute risk-avoidance, so we only proposed outcomes we knew we would likely achieve. So we achieved them. Sometimes we stare wistfully at the distant horizon, imagining a world where we are supported to pursue ambitious, visionary goals, which may include failing spectacularly a few times.
    2. What obstacles did you encounter this grant period? Just the usual stuff: Severe community needs, understaffing, overwhelmed and underpaid staff, lack of funding, micromanaging and/or clueless board members, donors who don’t get it, funders like you who make our lives difficult, a pandemic, systemic racism, white moderates focused more on respectability than equity and justice, pervasive generalized existential anxieties, and a cease-and-desist from MacKenzie Scott.
    3. What are some critical lessons you learned? We learned several important lessons, including that it is crucial to get community input and ownership before launching new programs, cultural dynamics affect everything, and that if you don’t take care of mice problems, it may lead to rattlesnake problems when the office is empty for months at a time. But the main lesson we learned is that we’re all exhausted and this system is untenable and rich people should stop putting money into wealth-hoarding vehicles and just pay their taxes.
    4. What are your program priorities for the next period? Our main priority is to ensure that this program remains running. It’s been touch-and-go. Maria, who has been the instrumental program lead, is seriously considering resigning because we don’t have enough funding to pay her what she’s worth. If she leaves, it will cause a severe chain reaction that may cause the implosion of the program. A lot is riding on this $50 gift certificate for food delivery and a virtual thank-you note signed by the rest of the staff and board.
    5. How did you spend the grant that we provided you? The grant you gave us went into our bank account, which is used to pay for everything. Disaggregating what you paid for versus what others paid for is one of those meaningless time-wasting activities you force on us that harm our work. Here’s a detailed financial report of every expense we made this year. Look through it, and if it makes you feel better to think that you paid for books for low-income children and not staff salaries or whatever, please use your own time to craft that delusion.
    6. Were there significant changes in your budget? Yes. Due to COVID-19, our budget decreased 40%. Unfortunately, we could not get out of our office lease, even though everyone was working from home and the office was empty most of the time except for the rattlesnakes. We had to lay off half the staff and furlough the rest. We’re not the only organization severely affected. Seriously, you should significantly increase your payout rate beyond the legal minimum of 5% (3.5% in Canada) to support the orgs and communities that are suffering.
    7. How much in funding did you gain through leveraging our support with other funders? We do drop your name whenever it made sense to do so when talking to other funders, quietly assessing whether your name would motivate other funders or piss them off. But how much funding resulted from all that, who the hell knows; there are all sorts of confounding variables. Instead of playing these weird funding games, why don’t you just talk to the other funders and collectively fund us so we don’t waste time “leveraging” and can do our work?
    8. Please share a short story that illustrates the impact of this grant on the community you serve: “Eddie,” 13 years old, comes from a low-income household and was three grades behind when he reached our program. After six months, we noticed vast improvements, not just with his grades, but with his general outlook on life. His parents noticed too and came to thank us. We said, “We owe it to the XYZ Foundation; they’ve been supporting the program.” And the parents said, “That’s wonderful! Will the program be around next year?” And we said, “We are not sure; most grants, including from XYZ Foundation, are only for one year.” A shadow fell over their faces, bleak as the winter skies.
    9. How has COVID affected your organization and programs? For the hundredth time: Donations have decreased, everyone is working from home, program hours have been cut, community members are in crisis everywhere, team morale has been down, and we’re not sure if these follow-along-at-home wine and cheese tasting kits we’re sending donors will work. On the other hand, there’s been a surplus in the office snacks budget line item, and the internecine wars over giant pads of sticky paper have ended, so that’s something.
    10. Is there anything else you would like to share with the Foundation? The amount you gave us is not big enough to warrant this unique grant report we just spent several hours writing. We can save ourselves and the Foundation a lot of time if you and other funders just accept the annual report we write, which has a lot of information. If COVID taught us anything, it’s that we don’t have a lot of time to waste with these ridiculous shenanigans cloaked as “best practices.”

  • What to Say and Not to Say in Your Statements about the White Supremacist Coup Attempt at the Capitol

    Over the past few days, I’ve been seeing public statements about the violent fascist coup attempt. Some are great, and some are awful. At this point, after the hundreds of statements that came out after George Floyd’s murder, many of us are exhausted with these statements against injustice, because so many of them are meaningless.

    If you are going to write one about the violent white supremacist efforts to install Trump as an autocrat, here are some suggestions, in no particular order. Please keep in mind that I am not a communications expert or a PR person. But I do interact a lot with colleagues, and the below are some of the things I’ve been hearing. Take what’s useful to you, ignore the rest:

    1. DO figure out what the point of your statement is: Is it a general message to the entire community? Is it mainly to reassure your team? Is it to rally actions? Is it to check off a box and say you did it so that people won’t get mad at you for not saying something? Figure this out before you write.
    2. DO try to sound like a human being: People are angry and scared right now. The last thing they need is a robotic, performative message in their inbox or as the first thing they see when they go on to your website.
    3. DON’T call what happened “events.” I saw so many “the events of Wednesday” or “the tragic event of the past week.” Calling these attacks “events” helps to minimize their gravity and impact. We need to unlearn our bad habit of using euphemisms for terrible things.
    4. DO call these attacks what they were: These were violent right-wing, white supremacist, fascist coup attempts and attacks on democracy. I use the plural because while our attention is focused on the Capitol, there were coordinated attacks across the US, including on the governor’s mansion in my state, Washington State.
    5. DON’T call these vile people “protesters.” Do not help advance the narrative that these were peaceful protesters. They were not. They left bombs and nooses, carried the confederate flag, and wore T-shirts emblazoned with Nazi symbols and slogans.
    6. DO label them as violent fascist mobs: Many of us lean toward calling these people domestic terrorists, insurrectionists, and seditionists. At the same time, we should also be cognizant that “terrorists” and other labels have been weaponized against Black, Indigenous, and POC communities for decades, and using these terms without that context may further that.
    7. DON’T say “this is not who we are” or “this is not the America we know.” For many racialized and marginalized communities, this is EXACTLY the America we’ve known, a country with an ongoing legacy of white supremacy. To say otherwise is to gaslight entire communities.
    8. DO talk about white supremacy and racism: If you are not going to acknowledge that these attacks were motivated and fueled by white supremacy and racism, then your statement is empty. If you cannot say these words publicly, do some reflecting with your team. I know there are various geographic and other contexts that may require softening your tone, but we cannot be effective in our fight for a just society if we are not willing to name what we are fighting.
    9. DON’T call it “unprecedented” or “unforeseen.” This is another form of gaslighting. Right-wing white supremacists have gotten away repeatedly with violence. Did we forget about the attempt to kidnap Governor Whitmer only a few months ago? Many of us knew in 2016 that this was the logical course of a Trump presidency and cult. We need to stop being shocked and in denial about the rise of fascist violence, or it will get worse.
    10. DON’T say “history will judge.” Yes, I’m sure that in a hundred years, if the US is still standing, school children will take field trips to learn about how Very Bad these violent fascist coups were. That is not a reassuring thought for many people and communities, especially Black, Indigenous, Jewish, Muslim, and others who are being terrorized right now. We don’t want history to judge later; we want the courts to judge now.
    11. DON’T call for healing and unity. Healing and unity cannot take place without accountability and justice first. We cannot and must not “meet in the middle” with Nazis and fascists. It only gives them legitimacy and power. We’ve compromised so much with racists and bigots, and look where it’s gotten us. No more.
    12. DO call for justice: If we do not have justice, if the people who coordinated and fueled these attacks do not get severe legal and professional consequences for their actions, these violent coup attempts will continue. Call for impeachment, expulsion, and criminal prosecution for the president, elected officials, corporations, and anyone else who supported this. If you think that’s too “political,” get over it.
    13. DO talk about what actions you will be taking: As colleague Erin Okuno of Fakequity.com says, “I don’t want to read any emails, statements, social media posts about how organizations are condemning violence unless it clearly says what actions your organization are changing to address white supremacy.” We have way too many vague, empty statements. If you’re a nonprofit, what actions will you take? Examine and fix your own racial pay disparity? Encourage existing donors to give to Black-led organizations? If you’re a funder, how will your foundation fund differently? Are you going to support Black-, Indigenous-, and POC-led orgs, leaders, and movements more? Are you going to call on other funders to increase funding for community organizing?
    14. DO be bold. Now is no time to hold back. If your statement is not pissing off a few people, causing a dozen unsubscribes, and making a donor or two angrily storm off, you may not be doing it right.

    I know this is all tricky, and there are countless mistakes that could be made. If you already sent out a statement and did one of the above “don’ts,” learn from it and move on. We need to focus on taking actions. Unfortunately, unless we work together to turn things around, we’ll have plenty more opportunities to craft these types of messages in the foreseeable future.