Let's Talk

Over the past two days I have been in several discussions with SECF board representatives and members about the work of SECF's Government Affairs Committee. As foundations we find ourselves at an unusual and somewhat uncomfortable place...a place we have not been for some time. We face increasingly scrutiny and are challenged to both preserve what is necessary to do our best work while responding to unprecedented times of financial and social upheaval. We have tough choices to make and important constituents to defend. We have to be creative and flexible and smart. We have to do what it is that foundations do best.

As an organization of member foundations, SECF has to determine when and how we best communicate the vital role of philanthropy in society. How much do our members know, want to know or need to know about policies affecting our sector? How do we build critical, sustainable relationships with executive and legislative branches of government? How do we think and speak and act in a way that honors our members' interests and intent? How do we present distinct and sometimes opposing member perspectives on issues that affect the communities we are committed to serve?

Not unlike the topic of religion, policy conversations -public action, advocacy, politics - make the hairs on the back of our neck go up. Yet as individual foundations and as a cohort, can we afford not to have them? Can we authentically claim to seek a better society without understanding, deliberating, debating and engaging in how that society functions?

If you believe the conversations are necessary, there's no time better to begin than now. What do you think?

Southeasterly Winds

Southeasterly Winds

For the past five years, I have served on the board of the Southeatern Council on Foundations (SECF) a membership organization of more than 350 private, corporate, family and community foundations in eleven states. I confess that I took on this role hesitantly...after 21 years in Georgia and six at The Community Foundation for Greater Atlanta, I had chosen to have limited exposure and connection to the larger region, more comfortable dashing across the world from Hartsfield-Jackson than taking a road trip. I claimed southern roots through both my parents who migrated from their birthplace in south Georgia to the north in the 1940’s. Yet I knew in my heart my move to metro Atlanta was less about returning home and more a choice to move to what was then dubbed "The Black Mecca".

Weather lore has it that "When the wind is blowing in the South, it brings food over the fish's mouth". I've given a lot of thought to this sentiment as I've passed the quarter century mark in my new home and finally branched out into the region, a journey that I have taken in tandem with SECF. In 2006, I stepped into a boardroom filled with folks from our southern states...folks who loved their communities. I felt truly an outsider. As I’ve shared, I am more city than country.

Secondly, all were CEOs and so, despite being senior staff of one of the biggest community foundations in the country and managing many and assets, much of my reality and experience was different. Third, I am an African American woman, at that time one of two on the board, and while Atlanta may have been my "Mecca", the south's formal philanthropic sector was not. I confess, I couldn't figure out what I could offer this group nor what they could give me.

Yet as I look forward to gathering on Amelia Island in November for SECF’s annual conference, "Celebrating Wisdom, Demonstrating Value, Cultivating Hope", I know that, as the southeasterly wind feeds the fish, my SECF experience has fed me. Another quote by the timeless Seuss, summarizes it perfectly,
"Congratulations!
Today is your day.
You’re off to Great Places!
You’re off and away!
You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself any direction you choose.
You’re on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the guy who’ll decide where to go.
Out there things can happen and frequently do to people as brainy and footsy as you.
And when things start to happen, don’t worry. Don’t stew. Just go right along. You’ll start happening too."

I've seen places. I've seen closed rubber plants whose owners, long gone, still support the local community. I've seen hurricanes strike beaches at night and residents cleaning and repairing by the time the sun rises. I’ve watched ducks march in line and boogied to blues til midnight. I’ve shuddered, feeling the ghosts of my ancestors in renovated plantations and shared hot tea and biscuits with colleagues who have grown dear. I’ve come to love beignets, dry rub, crepe myrtle, wide spaces, green pastures, majestic mounts and washboards that turn into musical instruments. I’ve run past painful statues of black jockeys and given standing ovations to talented, gutsy kids from “the other side of the track”. But, most of all, even despite its resistant and oft frustrating cling to the familiar and fear of the new, I’ve come to love the resilience and grace and potential of the South.

In short, I’ve grown. And so has SECF. With each year and each other we are becoming smarter, more effective, more relevant. We are listening to our constituents – those who have been with us for decades and those whose attention we have drawn – as we seek to cultivate and embrace the huge power of philanthropy to make a difference in our shared space of this big country. To collectively create a stronger, better region in which everyone can thrive.
To feed the fish.
Look forward to seeing you next week!

Golden Eggshells

The current economic climate and its subsequent impact on the civic sector is frightening. While all nonprofits felt the pinch early in, many – most - have been able to weather their financial challenges by hunkering down, appealing to their supporters and realigning their priorities and focus.

Yet its 2011 and the crisis continues…the stress enduring for too long and the sluggish economy no less threatening. And, after so long, many nonprofits have depleted their reserves, exhausted their friends, and have restructured their affairs yet again -- but this time to no avail -- and must now cash in their chips.

It's an odd and unsettling space for those of us in foundations.  The economy has undeniably impacted our organizations as well, in some cases plummeting our financial value and scaring away new investors.  Like our nonprofit partners, we're scared and feeling vulnerable -- watching the market daily, sometimes hourly.  But, bottom line, we're still here. We're wounded but still standing. And many of us, because we have the option, have decided to wait.  Wait to see what happens. Wait to give grants. Wait to give more grants.  Wait…but not in fear of demise……not for our final knoll.

Foundations and our nonprofit partners are two sides of the same coin; we provide critical resources that enable our sectarian partners to do good. Foundations agonize over how to be responsible stewards of philanthropic dollars…while the recipients of our largess agonize over how best to comfort, house, protect and hold dear all that is precious in our shared communities.  For foundations, during times as these, balancing how to be appropriately judicious and generous is paradoxical: somewhat akin to saving for a rainy day while a tornado rages outside. The relationship between funders and grantseekers, inherently tenuous from the imbalance of power, becomes more fragile.  

So those of us in foundations find ourselves walking on eggshells… albeit eggshells filled with precious, essential gold.

A recent report by the Grantmakers for Effective Organizations, entitled Widespread Empathy, asserts that "…Empathy should be a core driver of grantmaking for foundations". It suggests tactics such as meeting with grantees, inviting grantees into our office; and being willing to change. These are solid recommendations and I honestly don't know any grantmakers who don't already do these things.  Yet, I'd suggest another, possibly precursor strategy as well...that foundations come together to clarify what we can and are willing to bring to the table.   

My experience is that that our region's foundations eschew structured partnerships with one another, with some exceptions (such as the Southeastern Council for Foundation's EngAGEment initiative and the Philanthropic Collaborative for a Healthy Georgia). We enjoy meeting with one another; learning from and with one another; funding the same organizations and supporting the same causes. We know one another and we often like one another.  But when it comes to coordinating and aligning our dollars, our grantmaking, and our influence, we are quick to say our trustees won't allow it. We complain that our boards are fussy. We brandish our strategic plan, citing our strategic priorities. But we stop short of trying to ensure that we are more effective as a collective.

Now, more than ever, foundations are charged to get into the nitty gritty of one another's philosophies, challenges and priorities – and learn where we mesh and where we do not. As privileged caretakers of giving dollars, we have the opportunity to not only cooperate but to truly collaborate -- not the legendary "back room deals" and "inside picks" that we've long been accused of -- but new understandings and relationships in which we confer and connect about what's important in our beloved, shared communities. Understanding where the pain is; where the good and innovative work's being done; and how we might augment, complement and leverage our giving to ensure it alleviates the most suffering.

It's a first step, by foundations, that can provide the data and foundation to do our part smartly and responsibly. To find the balance. To stop waiting and to act. 

…We may have to crack an egg or two to get there. But our yoke will be the balm our community needs.

Social Media’s Beautiful Simplicity

For weeks now I've been meaning to get back to a blog I began a month ago--about the potential of social media to effect social (community) change. Returning to work after three months and having to remember what it was like to get up at 6 every morning, I set it aside. I then got "sidetracked" –more aptly, heartbroken – by the chaos in Atlanta's public schools, and wrote a blog that called for community healing. I planned, this past weekend, to get back to the social media conversation, although I knew it would be a stretch to apply my nascent experience in the virtual world to credibly analyzing its potential to change lives. In hindsight, I think I may have been avoiding it.

Then I got a posting from a visionary and passionate colleague, I'll call him "N", who is prolific in both his use of social media and his desire to change the world for the better. He posted about his experience helping people recover from the Tsunami in Japan… and inspired me and many of his friends to comment, applaud and learn more. I realized acutely that the time it was taking me to hone my thinking and words was the opposite of the best that social media has to offer—raw, immediate, sometimes visceral exposure and opportunities to grow.  In short, my beliefs are that Social Media moves, lives, motivates, advances…at the speed of light. At the turn of a dime. At the click of a keystroke.  Without action, it is limited in its impact. Combined with thoughtful action, it is powerful.

N spends lots of time thinking, reading and sharing what is important to him with others; a review of his Face book wall reveals a deep and sensitive mind. But he goes further by acting and grounding his beliefs with experience and perspective. He then returns to share this enhanced, deepened experience with others, affirming for himself and all of us that these ideals do pass the test.

N lives what I have been attempting to articulate. I lament my reticence and pathology to "get it right", ignoring the beautiful simplicity of being able – immediately—to share what were for me still emerging perceptions. I realize I can use his example to demonstrate my burgeoning theories on the intersection and connectivity of Social Media and social good, as he's already cooked and served what I am still building the recipe for.

He doesn't know I'm writing this (I'll share it once it's up) but I so appreciate his example of what can be.  And I'm also lovin' him for bestowing a sister tottering between two worlds just a little more time to get it together.

Atlanta's Scarlet Letter: A Call for Community Dialogue

The cheating scandal in Atlanta's public school system is both painful and embarrassing for all of us who call this region their home. We're scared that we'll be stymied in continuing to cultivate the enormous investment of time, energy, money and hope that's been invested in this system and these children. In the nation's full glare, this adversity has thrown all of metro Atlanta into a crisis of faith – that we indeed have the will and trust in one another to come together on behalf of our children.  The decisions we make today will have long term implication for the region's support of public education.

"Many, many voices"

Historically, APS has never had great success in garnering timely, authentic public engagement with its constituents. As a result, information about school progress has been one-sided, and, until very recently, we were told that things were good. In our compliant acceptance of the message and the messengers, Atlanta lost the "public" in its public education system…opening the door to the past decade's unrealistic targets, undeserved accolades, limited connection points and lack of public accountability. And, while I applaud the school board's swift actions to address the institutional problems, I agree with a quote in Sunday's Atlanta Journal Constitution that "It will take many, many people and not just one man"… to move us forward.

Most of us are familiar with the wisdom, "It takes a village to raise a child". For Atlanta in this time and this place, this requires our understanding that public schools are, indeed, our schools. They do not belong to the superintendent, elected officials, or even parents. They belong to the community. Right now, kids are hurting, parents are worried, civic leadership is embarrassed, teachers are scared, funders are concerned, and the broader community is dismayed. The scandal is being discussed all over the community in groups as small as 2 and as large as the number of "friends" or re-tweets possible.  And many of these are atypical stakeholders, reflecting the city's changing demographics, and they are linking via ever-expanding social media networks. Many are teachers. Many are students.

There's an opportunity to move from what is now, too often, siloed, ill-informed, anger-tinged clamor to real conversation--but we need to do it together. To declare. To question. To understand how and why and if new requirements from Washington could cause such upheaval in Atlanta. To learn about how the best systems hold staff accountable. To understand school governance – at the neighborhood and board levels. To realize all the good that continues to occur within our schools. To affirm what we think and be open to gaining new perspective.  Most of all, as a community, to agree together on a vision for our children and the leadership that we need to achieve this vision.

Community Healing through Community Conversation

Atlanta needs transparent community-wide conversations about the future of our children and our schools.  Major objectives of the conversations would be increasing public understanding and engagement; providing focused input and support for moving forward; and, perhaps most importantly, reinforcing and reinvigorating our faith in one another -- as we remember that this is not about our image but rather about each other and about our children.  Remaining open and authentic, these conversations would

·         Have clear intent for input needed on critical issues

·         Be led and conducted by diverse and credible individuals/groups

·         Include the ability the "think high" (strategically and with the city's best interest in mind) and "reach low" (identifying tangible impacts on students and families)

·         Ensure mutual respect and tolerance for differing opinions

·         Use multiple tools and strategies, particularly social media, to engage traditional and new stakeholders

·         Bridge communities (civic, public, private, community-based, students)

·         Be able to move a group from dialogue to consensus decision-making

Public engagement of this nature is messy. Yet we now see – poignantly – what can happen when the public is not actively, consistently engaged in a reciprocal dialogue. Atlanta is a come-back city; we'll absolutely get through this. Yet right now, how we get through it matters as much as what we do --- and doing it well means opening up and reaching out further than we ever have before. Without this, we may gain forward progress but lose a rich opportunity to secure our community's heart and commitment on behalf of children.   

The village needs to talk -- everywhere, anywhere and with everyone possible. And we need to talk soon.

40 Days and 40 Nights...sabbatical reflections

WHAT I'VE LEARNED…

…That social media is not the boogey man

…That "status updates" can matter a lot

…That "status updates" cannot matter at all

…That tweeting ain't my thing

…That somebody somewhere is always listening

…That social media interaction, like everything else, can be overdone

…That politics really is entertainment

…That my generation was different but not better

…That writing on demand is a job

…That red wine can taste good– but I still have class if I prefer white

…That loves makes a home but nurturing makes a sanctuary

…That my grandparents were homesteaders

…That Martin Luther king broke bread with my momma

…How Aragon ended up with the Elves

…How to start a quilt

…That my abstract painting is too abstract to be artistic

…The cool pleasure of clay in my hands

AND REMEMBERED…

…That time passes quickly

…That I still love basketball

…That I'm still bedazzled by the shining silver screen!

…That I love adventure-not as escape-but as life

…That my thumb's even greener than I thought

…The sweetness of not having to wait in line

…Late night moons

…Dancing til 2 AM

…To wear gloves in the dirt or unpleasant things may result

…That artists express as much as they create

I RECOGNIZE…

…That the love of friends and family are our most precious gifts

…That I'm tougher than I thought

…That I get to control my stress

…How I want to work

…How I don't want to work

…That inspiration and strategy can encourage community

…That only sweat and patience transform community

…That now is the time to plan for later

…That I'm surrounded by a lot of good folks

…That I couldn't recall as much because I was being asked to remember too much

…That water matters

…That the world keeps right on turning…

…That good things come to those who wait

Turbulent Tides: Black Folks and Water

Like a monster wave, the realities of water quality and accessibility came rushing my way during my recent visit to Nicaragua. I couldn't avoid it. The lack of safe clean water threatens the health and livelihood of every man, woman and child there and in most "third world" countries: rotting teeth, bending bones, curling stomachs.  Its microbes transmit to food and clothing. In Nicaragua's most populous areas, it stymies economic growth by thwarting what should be viable industries such as fishing, farming and tourism. 

I know that the greater discomfort-and discovery- was mine. Nicaraguans have adapted to the water they have and what they can and can't do and expect.  But it was indeed a "Damascus moment" for me.

The relationship between African Americans and water is truly complicated.  We respect water but we don't "like" it; we know we need it yet we don't conserve it. For many, water is like a long-term partner who we take for granted: available, useful, expected, but not valued.  Don't take my word for it; ask any of us and we'll be able to name one or more of our family and friends who are afraid of water, don't really "like" water or can't swim.

In this blog I am expressing publically on what might be termed as "family "business – in this context, my family of fellow African Americans (black folks). Yet although a targeted message, I share it openly with my other families – of faith, of sisterhood, of love, of kindred spirit.  And I'd love to hear from you all.

As people of the Diaspora, African Americans hail from lands abundant with water -- a fact that would on the surface make this ambivalence unexpected. And while not an academician with research on this phenomena, I have an inkling of some of what may, deep in our psyche and soul, cause this schizophrenia.

African Americans understand that water represents livelihood and sustenance. We were and remain fishermen and women. We are voracious connoisseurs of the sea's fruits. We depend upon water to keep our bodies and lives clean and refreshed. And for the majority of African Americans of the Christian faith, we respect water as an important proxy for sacred rites of baptism and other religious ceremonies.

Yet for our people water has also represented pain and death. It was from across the water that traders came to practice the lucrative business of slaving. It was over water that African Americans were conveyed, bound, starving and brokenhearted, to begin lives in servitude. It was through treacherous waters we waded to escape armed men and angry dogs.  For others we hoisted water from streams and wells constantly, incessantly, to keep crops nourished, mansions spotless, animals satiated, strangers refreshed and meals prepared -- before exhaustingly repeating this cycle for ourselves.  Initially prohibited to swim for fear of escape and then by legalized segregation and institutional racism, it was in water that we lost many of our kin by downing.  The scars are psychological as well; even today many African American women –and some of our men -- fear water's disclosure of their hair's natural beauty because it is a beauty different from that which western society celebrates.   

It's time for an attitude adjustment.  We African Americans don't have to like water, but we do have to deliberately, intelligently start paying attention to it. For ourselves.  For our children. For our future.   .  Water is essential to our lives…to grow food…keep clean…provide power…control fire. Water helps to preserve our environment  and reduce energy ( which helps in reducing pollution and  fuel. Conserving water now means having water available in the future for recreational purposes, and minimizes the effects of water shortages.  Saving water saves money.

We don't have to become rabid environmentalists (less than 5% of donors and volunteers to environmental causes and organizations are African American), but we do have to understand the boundaries and needs of the earth we share and our responsibility to it.  As neighbors, we are called to be as active and deliberate in our conservation and care.

We don't have to jump into the deep end ourselves, but we have to be sure our children know how to swim (it is estimated that some 60% of African American children cannot swim). To relax. To enjoy. To save their lives.  I don't think I was alone when I viewed the images of the poor, African Americans stranded and killed during Katrina in wondering how many of them might have fared better if they were comfortable in water and could swim.

Of course there are many African Americans who appreciate water and other resources; who conserve and recycle and do many good things for the earth. There are many African Americans who love water and swim like fish. But it's way too few. I can swim and love playing in water. But now that I have lived the alternative, I know I must do more. I'm starting small – with how I brush my teeth, bathe, wash my clothes. Baby steps...starting first with my mind and my mouth—how I think and what I proclaim.

Because if more of us could begin to deliberately change our relationship with water – even if through our children -- then we can begin to value and preserve it. And I believe that this appreciation will grow and evolve…and possibly increase our sensibilities to even more of Mother Earth's provisions and needs.  

It's a love and hate affair -- and the hate threatens us all.