Weaving a community of care and belonging so that we can be generous together.
“What if funders and practitioners partnered so well together that it becomes hard to tell the difference, no longer funders and practitioners but simply partners? What if our city was transformed into a place of flourishing because we have learned to be generous together?”
In April of 2020, these questions were not being asked. The world was in the throes of early-pandemic crisis. Asked to sit in on conversations around how funding could be deployed toward pandemic response, I was hesitant and lacking belief that I would have something to say, and if I did, I was unsure that it would be valued. I knew what it looked like for my husband, a Black nonprofit leader, to be on the asking side of the relationship with funders and it had left me with mixed feelings of joy as well as discouragement.
Many of our Black colleagues (practitioners) were suffering from fatigue, often overworked, understaffed, and underfunded. Their minds, bodies, households, and relationships were sometimes quietly cracking under the pressure of the constant choice between making a living and making a difference in their communities. They were already facing the generational crises in their communities and sensing that something was amiss in the understanding between funders and Black practitioners, many of whom bridge the gap between what is needed and what is at hand with their faith.
During May of 2020, multiple studies were released to the public detailing disparities in funding. This was just weeks before the killing of George Floyd catalyzed a worldwide reckoning with racial/ethnic division. Here are a few facts from some of those reports:
Did you know?
“The unrestricted net assets of black- led organizations are 76% smaller than white-led counterparts.”
“63% of leaders of color lack access to individual donors compared to 49% of white leaders.”
“Disparity increases to…91% less unrestricted funds for male black leaders.”
“92% of US foundations have a white president, 83% of the full-time executives are white, 68% of program officers are white.”
The conversations with that group of Oklahoma City funders about the pandemic moved toward including vulnerable conversations about the racial divide in our city, state, and nation. More groups of funders began to host similar conversations, to examine assumptions, to listen and learn, to take a hard look into their processes, and to acknowledge problems.
Truth be told, not everyone wanted to engage in the race+funding conversation. Some practitioners felt too vulnerable, exposed, too traumatized. Some funders were defensive, even threatening, and walked away. But many have continued the journey and are putting their hands to the work of weaving a better future in their sector, deciding to press through the messy side of the relational tapestry being woven. Funders and practitioners are moving beyond us/them dynamics, we acknowledge that when practitioners and funders generously give what they have, their shared work can have a redemptive impact on the challenges of their city because solutions are the fruit of connection.
