“There are years that ask questions and years that answer.”
— Zora Neale Hurston
Grateful for a decade that included both kinds of years.
Summed up, the last decade was all about giving back. The book, the talks, the exhibitions, the creativity, the collaborations, the friendships, the travel, the lessons, and more.
Wonder what’s in store and what I can make happen in the 2020s? Stay tuned.
If we’re going to heal, let it be glorious.– Beyoncé
Just before Independence Day this summer, Edgar Villanueva, author of the bestselling book “Decolonizing Wealth,” engaged in a series of talks in Charlotte. In his book, Edgar, a foundation executive and member of the Lumbee Tribe of North Carolina, poses the question: What if we used wealth to heal, rather than harm?
“Decolonizing Wealth” analyzes dysfunctional racial and colonial dynamics at play in philanthropy. Drawing on personal experiences as a Native American and professional in the philanthropic sector, Edgar offers a prescription for restoring balance and healing divides.
To decolonize, as Edgar describes it, is to reckon with and reconcile wrongs—historical and contemporary—from which a large share of today’s wealth and privilege is derived. It is a process that entails admission and accounting of the exploitation of indigenous and enslaved people during the colonial era and the compounded trauma and impacts on Brown, Black and White people today. Central to decolonizing is a commitment to disclosure, contrition and amends as a means to heal and repair, all of us.
Listening to Edgar made me ponder, what if our community dedicated itself to healing? What if we decolonized Charlotte?
At first blush, the idea might seem improbable for a city built on a proud colonial history. Heck, Charlotte is named for King George’s wife herself. And our city’s symbol is a crown!
Cynics might exploit our standing as the nation’s third largest financial hub as a barrier to change. The mere phrase, decolonizing wealth,would seem antithetical to a bank town.
Then too there is our reputation as a vibrant “New South City,” which would seem to provide sufficient, albeit thin, cover. The implication being we have already grappled with and successfully overcome an unjust past.
Contrary to what these characterizations might suggest, I believe therein lies Charlotte’s big opportunity.Our Southern heritage, our colonial history, and our prominence in the financial sector make an altogether compelling case to decolonize—systematically purge relic ways and mindsets that betray our grasps for racial equity and economic mobility.
Decolonizing Charlotte is not that far-fetched. The city has long boasted vanguard status with the 1775 “Meck Dec.” With that civic DNA, why couldn’t Charlotteans lead again as revolutionaries? This time though, in lieu of ousting Brits, let’s end colonial reign by repudiating economic exploitation, cultural dominance, forced assimilation and other precepts of colonists.
Imagine, the symbolism and the substance of our history and status as driving forces to shake free of colonialism. We are a city that emerged from Native American trading paths and that recently celebrated its 250th anniversary. We, along with the nation, just marked 400 years of documented Black life in America.
We are a Southern metropolis that was once part of the original 13 American colonies and, too, the 14 Confederate states. While our storied past holds many points of pride, it also mires us in contradictions and complicates our lives, relationships and philanthropy.
Like an ancestral brownfield site, our civic landscape holds contaminating elements that have not been washed away and cannot be wished away. Yes, the Queen City is on the rise and a newcomer magnet, yet the “Chetty study” sniffed the toxicity.
Dysfunctional relationships and toxic power dynamics introduced generations ago still haunt our civic life. Even with all the lip service about equity, funding decisions lay bare leaders’ priorities and beliefs. Vestiges of colonial mindsets and the ideology of white supremacy linger.
It is evident in the fact that a third of Brown and Black children here live in poverty, seen in schools that are the most segregated in the state, and obvious in how we live and do things. Troubling patterns are especially stark in our nonprofit and philanthropic sphere.
When “the Charlotte way“ is perceived a term of endearment by some and an indictment by others, you could say, Charlotte’s got a lot to heal.
While many cling to fiction, the truth remains. But wonder if we dropped the façade. Masking how race, wealth and power play out in Charlotte only exacerbates issues. Suppose instead we scrutinized the problematic history of philanthropy and studied today’s data on where the money goes to inform more equitable approaches.
In lieu of assembling another task force, let’s use“money as medicine,” as Edgar puts it. Let’s direct resources to excavate the roots of injustice and examine its messy fruit. In addition to the litany of pre-K, literacy, mentoring and scholarship programs, let’s also invest in disrupting systems and institutions that perpetually feed the disparities that make such programs necessary. We need to be courageous enough and forward thinking enough to undertake that work, both internally and externally.
The great news! We need not wait for citywide buy-in or a large-scale initiative to begin. One foundation, one organization, one family or one person can choose to decolonize and start the journey. One by one, we each can become decolonizers and transform this city.
How you ask? Debunk the myth of meritocracy. Focus unblinkingly on power and race dynamics. Demonstrate an intolerance of injustice. Interrogate presumptive gatekeepers. Set new expectations for leaders. Listen and learn to sit with discomfort. Expose fake equity and keep pushing for the real thing. Read Decolonizing Wealth.
Glory exists in the work, even when it is inconvenient and uncomfortable and overdue. Decolonizing holds the power to forge our center, to heal, and to reveal at long last our civic soul. Charlotte’s elusive identity found. A so-called identity-crisis averted. You’re welcome.
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Valaida Fullwood is author of Giving Back: A Tribute to Generations of African American Philanthropists, creator of The Soul of Philanthropy exhibit, and a founder of New Generation of African American Philanthropists, a giving circle in Charlotte, NC.
Happy to share a new poetical video from The Soul of Philanthropy!
Grateful to my friend, the poet Quentin “Q” Talley, who wrote “Full Circle” nearly 11 years ago. I commissioned the poem, initially, for a special event in 2008. Since then Q has breathed new life into it again and again. A print version was featured in my book Giving Back. He has performed it live at my book talks and various events. He recorded it for kinetic typography that is featured in The Soul of Philanthropy exhibit. And he worked with me to create this video.
I am equally grateful to my friend, the videographer Sino Chum, who filmed this piece. As with Q, Sino and I have collaborated numerous times over the years, like here and here and here. This project includes footage shot in Atlanta, Columbia, SC and Denver. It took more than a year to complete. A year that included Sino returning to his ancestral homeland, Cambodia, and getting married. Mazel tov! 💖
Steve Jobs once said the most powerful person in the world is the storyteller. Though it doesn’t always start out that way, somewhere in the process of writing a story I do feel powerful. It is a satisfying (and rather magical) process that brings me immense joy. With film, poetry and theater, respectively, Sino and Q are great storytellers and work hard at their crafts. That’s why I relish opportunities to collaborate and thus unite and activate our super powers.
Long time coming, Full Circle, the video. Enjoy
“Black Americans have exercised collective giving to finance social resistance in serial struggles for liberation.” That line is from my recent essay, The Sweetness of Circles. In those struggles, the questions Am I Not a Man? and Ain’t I a Woman? and the assertion I Am a Man have been used and adapted over history to proclaim dignity, declare independence against oppression, and push for equality.
Fifty-one years ago this week, “I AM A MAN” was the slogan of the Memphis Sanitation Strike. The strike brought Dr. Martin Luther King Jr to Memphis (instead of Charlotte, as originally planned) on April 4, 1968 — the fateful day of his assassination. MLK’s death in Memphis intensified the strike and eventually led to its end on April 16.
Today, people on the margins of mainstream institutional philanthropy are borrowing from the past to proclaim: I Am a Philanthropist. It is an assertion of our presence and power in shifting narratives, values, priorities, ways of giving and measures of impact.
In Atlanta, hosts of The Soul of Philanthropy (TSOP) exhibit created buttons in a style harkening back to the picket signs in Memphis. Exhibition hosts in Columbia, SC followed suit, and hosts in Cleveland plan to do the same, as these communities elevate stories that reframe philanthropy. The photo collage above features historic and contemporary images.
I have found that among its other benefits, giving liberates the soul of the giver. — Maya Angelou
April 4th is Maya Angelou’s birthday. Values espoused in her writing inspired me to join with Tracey Webb and Akira Barclay to write The Sweetness of Circles. Like me, Tracey and Akira are chroniclers and members of giving circles. Our collaborative piece was initially posted on Medium and then later picked up by The Charlotte Post and The Nonprofit Quarterly.
I also was motivated to write a parallel and more personal piece, titled The Blacker The Circle, which ran on Qcitymetro.com last week. It is an op-ed about my giving circle, New Generation of African American Philanthropists. Today, the National Committee for Responsive Philanthropy (NCRP) posted the op-ed on its blog.
Sign up for my upcoming webinar presented by Sanford Institute of Philanthropy on Thursday, February 20. It’s free!
Hear principles and traditions of philanthropy in Black communities
Gain insight on why Black giving matters and how to engage, beyond transactions, to build meaningful relationships with Black donors and communities
Take away ideas for your organization to implement this August in observance of Black Philanthropy Month
In October 2018, my giving circle New Generation of African American Philanthropists hosted “Making Change,” a reception and forum with ABFE President Susan Taylor Batten. The event drew 50 attendees, stirred powerful discussions and seeded ideas about our work ahead.
Watch the event’s highlight film short: Moves, Minds & Money.
Ancestors and family are subjects I often write about. Like here and here. So I was excited when a reporter from The Charlotte Observer reached out last week for my input on a piece about Fonta Flora, the storied community of my paternal great-great grandparents.
“There once was a vale of peace and beauty in the NC foothills, the story goes, where crops grew tall and neighbors both black and white lived in harmony. Even its name sounded lush: Fonta Flora.”
The newspaper article includes an account from my family’s oral history that I shared. Below is an excerpt.
“Just the connection to the land and what’s under that lake is strong and really powerful for all of us,” (Valaida) said. “There’s also the sense of loss, in my mind. After the Civil War, for families that had been enslaved people, even though we didn’t have grand plantations like in other parts of the South, people still struggled to make lives for themselves in a new place, and work for decades. And then to be uprooted.”
The full Observer article by Bruce Henderson is found here, and it features a beloved family portrait from around 1903.
Back around 2006 and 2007, before New Generation of African American Philanthropists was fully formed or even had a name, we held monthly gatherings around town to decide who and how we wanted to be. Various people flowed in and out of the process and contributed seeds of ideas that eventually blossomed into our giving circle. Along the way, some folks opted out of becoming formal circle members because they had other commitments and priorities. Even so, bonds—tight ones and tenuous ones—made in the early days remained intact.
One such friend to the circle was Kelly Harris, PhD who was on faculty at JCSU. Often traveling internationally with student groups, Kelly tried to stay engaged and on occasion managed to attend meetings and provide input. Then we lost contact when his a new job took him out of Charlotte about 10 years ago. So, I was pleasantly surprised when Kelly, seemingly out of the blue, reached out to me at the start of last year.
From afar and unbeknown to me, he had continued to follow our circle’s evolution and work, and he inquired about The Soul of Philanthropy Reframed and Exhibited. Now a dean at Chicago State U, Kelly was interested in bringing the exhibit to his HBCU campus to teach philanthropy and benefit his students.
Representative of a solid (even magical) bond and a full yet never-ending circle, below is a photo from Kelly’s pop-up exhibition. It was mounted at CSU’s Gwendolyn Brooks Center in October. Quoted here, Ms. Brooks’ poetical pronouncement is truth.
“We are each other’s harvest; we are each other’s business; we are each other’s magnitude and bond.” — Gwendolyn Brooks
From an exhibition of The Soul of Philanthropy, a text vinyl on gallery window that overlooks a neighborhood streetscape. Photo credit: Valaida Fullwood
Reframing portraits of philanthropy. Surprising to many, seemingly heretical to some, this idea fuels my imagination and writing. Over a decade ago, I began exploring multiple facets of philanthropy, particularly traditions of giving among African Americans. Struck by what seemed a whitewashing of mainstream philanthropy, which too often centers on financial wealth and whiteness, I was compelled to write about and lift up the unsung generosity of people of color as well as folks of modest means and all socioeconomic levels. This requires a modern reclamation of philanthropy—in meaning, in imagery and in practice.
Examining the root meaning of a word unlocks understanding. Greek in origin, philanthropy translates as “love of humanity.” Over centuries, the word has evolved in connotation and, today, is applied to activity ranging from individual and family practices to institutional grant-making to corporate social responsibility to global impact investing. Philanthropy, when interpreted broadly, can encompass a wide scope of beliefs and take many forms. Even so, most Americans point to only a sliver of this activity, largely because the quantity of dollars has come to eclipse the love of humanity as a defining feature of philanthropy.
The decades around the turn of the 20th century saw the rise of industrial magnates such as Andrew Carnegie, Henry Ford and John D. Rockefeller, whose exploits and enterprises amassed great fortunes. Their extraordinary financial donations to myriad causes and institutions contributed to the whittling down of ideas about philanthropy. Today, for many, philanthropy is synonymous with immense financial wealth. While but one facet, philanthropy centered on an abundance of money distorts the full picture.
Writer Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie has a much-viewed TED Talk about “the danger of a single story” and the destructive nature of stereotypes when only one story is told and re-told. Troubling to me is philanthropy’s single story, patterned from wealthy white men of a bygone era. It is the story that has dominated the field for over a century and one that too often places Black people solely on the demand side of communal assistance—as only beneficiaries and “those in need.”
And that’s the thing about philanthropy. A far richer picture exists. In fact, studies reveal a striking irony. Black Americans give the highest percentage of discretionary income to philanthropic causes when compared to other racial groups, as reported by W.K. Kellogg Foundation and research of the Urban Institute. Stunningly, Blacks not only fail to receive due recognition, we also are frequently cut from conventional depictions of philanthropists. To add insult to injury, the script is flipped and dishonestly says, “Blacks don’t give” and “they’re looking for handouts.”
This knowledge gave birth to the Giving Back Project, which aims to tell a broader range of American philanthropy stories to restore “love” as the defining force in philanthropy. Expounding on an MLK quote, Bishop Michael Curry said in this now-famous royal wedding sermon: There’s power in love. Don’t underestimate it. Don’t even over-sentimentalize it. There’s power, power in love.
Sharing this belief, I choose to frame philanthropy around the human factor and the powerful force of love, instead of money alone. In deconstructing the Greek translation, my re-interpretation is “love of what it means to be human.” Broad and inclusive, this frame applies to the writing and photography of the Giving Back Project, which includes my book Giving Back: A Tribute to Generations of African American Philanthropists and the multimedia exhibit The Soul of Philanthropy.
Reclaiming the root meaning increases the breadth of philanthropic possibilities and expands whose stories can be told, celebrated and praised as exemplary. It’s a matter of training our eyes on the humanity of the beneficiary and the benefactor, too. To imply dollars are unimportant is not the point. This mind shift instead relegates the gift (whether money, time or talent) in elevation of the human spirit and human impulse to love.
Re-centering love reveals the essence of philanthropy. Without genuine concern, deep understanding and profound empathy for people, what’s in a check alone? In telling stories of African American philanthropy, this lens is particularly incisive. That’s because many of our philanthropic traditions were forged during times of scarcity and our motivations borne of oppression. The atrocity of slavery and unjust vestiges, like an endemic wealth gap, have failed to diminish our instinct to give. It is instead enlivened. Our stories of philanthropy remind all Americans that philanthropy is deeper than your pockets.
Black giving matters. Counter-narratives to American philanthropy’s single story are crucial for several reasons. First, it’s hard to be what you can’t see, as Marian Wright Edelman puts it. Without authentic representation and abounding stories of Black philanthropists in mainstream media and the public sphere, younger generations are susceptible to stale narratives. They may never come to know the proud traditions that have shaped our communities and country. Second, because the humanity of Black people is routinely challenged—in media portrayals, daily interactions and episodes throughout history—when reframed, philanthropy affirms it. A final point: For Black people, nurturing and strengthening philanthropy, for us and by us, is an imperative because our liberation cannot rest merely on the philanthropy of others. Emboldened by the single story, generosity flowing from unchecked bias, misguided ideas and momentary interest wields little power to affect meaningful social change.
To say the American philanthropy scene has a racial diversity problem is to assert a fact so conspicuous it would seem a waste of breath to voice it. Despite studies, diversity and inclusion initiatives and more studies, too many charitable institutions cling to the values and imagery of the single story. This at a time when the country is growing visibly more racially and ethnically diverse. The resistance to change results in a string of unsurprising headlines. Below are but a few recent ones.
Cropping out a wide spectrum of donors, volunteers and leaders because they don’t fit a narrow narrative is, indeed, dangerous and also telling. Curious, that a sector built on ideals of “love of humanity” struggles to acknowledge the value and humanity of people of color.
Blacks are the most philanthropic racial group in America, and yet most leaders and institutions in the field find the inclusion and engagement of Black people optional or, sadly, debatable. Contemporary issues and communities are too complex to dismiss swaths of givers, seasoned activists and prospective allies. Re-imagining American philanthropy and bringing about change in today’s world requires shifts in perspective, motivation and approach. To fail to do so is to squander an opportunity to bridge historical gaps and transform lives and communities for the duration of the 21st century.
In the same vein as the Movement for Black Lives, Black Philanthropy Month is an assertion that Black giving matters amid a preponderance of messages attempting, and too often succeeding, to convince us otherwise. A campaign established in 2011 and observed every August, Black Philanthropy Month promotes “informing, inspiring, involving and investing in Black philanthropic leadership.”
Disrupting philanthropy’s single story extends beyond August. Global in scope, a movement is underway to acknowledge, study, celebrate and strengthen African-descent giving in all its forms. In addition to the Giving Back Project and Black Philanthropy Month, a myriad of start-up and long-running organizations and initiatives are advancing the movement. These include the newly launched Mays Family Institute on Diverse Philanthropy at Indiana University, Young Black and Giving Back Institute, African Diaspora Philanthropy Advisor Network, Pan African Women’s Philanthropy Network, ABFE, blogs and social media platforms like the groundbreaking BlackGivesBack.com, and scores of Black giving circles and collective giving groups.
While slow on matters of race, American philanthropy has begun to reflect some insight on the plurality of giving cultures, as recognized with Jewish philanthropy and women’s philanthropy. The Black philanthropy movement is pressing for accelerated progress from inside and outside mainstream structures. My aspiration in this work is specifically to illuminate the vastness of beliefs, values, histories and mindsets that shape how and why people give. Consciously, re-centering philanthropy on love provides space for all of our stories and inspiration for everyone.
No matter your background or race, take a deep look at what motivates your giving. August observances of Black Philanthropy Month offer opportunities to learn, connect and engage with a cross-section of people. Seeing your community with fresh eyes, and then contributing to it with new understanding and in ways centered on love is work you can actually initiate at any time.
Come to see philanthropy differently. That’s the tagline for The Soul of Philanthropy exhibit, and it precisely expresses the thing I hope for you.
— VF
Described an “idea whisperer,” Valaida Fullwood brings unbridled imagination and a gift for harnessing wild ideas to her work as a writer and project strategist. She is a founding member of Charlotte’s New Generation of African American Philanthropists giving circle, author of Giving Back: A Tribute to Generations of African American Philanthropists and innovator for The Soul of Philanthropy exhibit, which is traveling the country. You can follow her writing and pursuits via @ValaidaF and valaida.com.
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