What Black philanthropy can teach white philanthropists
When you think about “philanthropists,” who comes to mind? Maybe it’s Bill and Melinda Gates, maybe it’s Mackenzie Scott. Or maybe your mind goes to the men that our country thinks of as the fathers of modern philanthropy, like J.D. Rockefeller or Andrew Carnegie. And while it’s true that those men contributed to the founding of modern philanthropy, focusing exclusively on men like Carnegie obscures a long history of Black philanthropy that offers a very different way of giving and bringing about social change. In fact, much of what ails modern philanthropy — a paternalistic savior mentality, toxic power structures, philanthropist-centered solutions rather than community-driven solutions — has its roots in white philanthropy’s founding.
Carnegie’s Gospel of Wealth, published in 1889, is considered the foundational text of modern philanthropy. In it, Carnegie writes, “This, then, is held to be the duty of the man of Wealth… to consider all surplus revenues which come to him simply as trust funds, which he is called upon to administer… thus becoming the mere agent and trustee for his poorer brethren, bringing to their service his superior wisdom, experience and ability to administer, doing for them better than they would or could do for themselves.”
It’s true that today most foundation leaders and donors would cringe at Carnegie’s words, but his influence persists. Each time a modern-day philanthropist or foundation fails to co-develop strategy with a community or center those most impacted by an issue, or when we restrict funding to issues and solutions we determine unilaterally, aren’t we living Carnegie’s gospel?
In contrast, the Black philanthropists of Carnegie’s time, and of the modern day, offer us a model that is more grounded in trust and liberation. Take Robert Smith, a modern-day Black philanthropist who is best-known for announcing that he would pay off all the student loan debt for the 2019 graduating class of Morehouse College, a historically Black institution. “The liberation of communities we come from depends upon the grit and the determination and the greatness inside of you, using your skills and your knowledge and your instincts to serve to change the world in only the way that you can,” he said during his commencement speech at Morehouse that year.
Later, reflecting on the donation, he said, “I was looking at 400 students 400 hundred years after 1619. And they were burdened. Liberating them was the right thing for me to do.”
According to Tyrone McKinley Freeman, an assistant professor of philanthropic studies at the Lilly Family School of Philanthropy, “This idea of a responsibility to liberate one’s community links Smith and today’s black donors with those of the past.”
Professor Freeman also cites the philanthropy of Madam C.J. Walker, a contemporary of Carnegie’s who was the first Black woman to become a millionaire in the United States. She used her wealth and influence throughout her life to promote employment for Black women, fund scholarships for Black students, and contribute to the NAACP’s anti-lynching efforts. She’s quoted as saying, “I am not merely satisfied in making money for myself, for I am endeavoring to provide employment for hundreds of women of my race.”
What links Smith to Walker is belief in people and communities to solve their own problems, create their own fortunes, and find a path to liberation. That trust and desire to give in service of liberation cuts against another of Carnegie’s ideas from the Gospel of Wealth, where he wrote that, “Objections to the foundations upon which society is based are not in order.” But throughout history, we see Black philanthropists giving expressly to challenge that order.
In Learning to Give, Yvonne M. Brake explains that, “Black philanthropy was critical to the poor and played a key role in developing the first [B]lack schools, banks, and insurance companies; and it has been an essential component of virtually every [B]lack protest movement in history. The accomplishments of the civil rights movement have affected the lives of every other minority group in America and set the precedent for judging the claim to equal rights for these groups.”
Today, Black, Indigenous, and Person of Color (BIPOC) staff at foundations across the country are working to sever the white-dominant, paternalistic roots that anchor the philanthropic sector and transform society by giving in service of liberation. By trusting communities to both diagnose and solve their own problems, by shifting the power of the philanthropic sector from its mostly white leaders to communities of color, we begin to write a new chapter for philanthropy. Supporting communities to build and wield power long-denied to them is how we break free from philanthropy’s racist roots.
Black philanthropists show us a different way to give. Philanthropy may not have been built on a just foundation, but that doesn’t mean we can’t redesign and rebuild. As we grapple with how to support BIPOC leaders and build a more just and equitable society, we don’t have to look very far for examples of how to give and trust. Those lessons have been right in front of us since Carnegie’s time, and it’s long past time to learn from them.
