Carnegie Reporter, Vol. 4, No. 4 | African American Philanthropy

From time to time, the Carnegie Reporter explores issues relating to philanthropy. In this essay, noted broadcast and print journalist Ponchitta Pierce takes a personal look at how a group of prominent African Americans view philanthropic giving and examines the relationship of philanthropy and the black community in the United States.

At a time when African-American philanthropy proudly bears the distinctive stamp of its origins—notably, the key role traditionally played by black churches—it is also being transformed by a new class of ultra-wealthy donors. “We’re about to see an enormous breakthrough in philanthropic institutions being created by African Americans,” predicts Dr. Emmett D. Carson. “We may not be there yet, but we are poised,” says Carson, who heads the Silicon Valley Community Foundation, which has $1.9 billion in assets and a mission to “strengthen the common good, improve quality of life and address the most challenging problems” throughout California’s San Mateo and Santa Clara counties.

Pioneering industrialists John D. Rockefeller, Andrew Carnegie, and Henry Ford made a dynamic difference while they were alive, Carson observes, yet their posthumous impact, particularly through the foundations and other institutions they created, including Carnegie Corporation of New York, has been even more dramatic. Carson singles out Oprah Winfrey, Bill Cosby, and a host of athletes, and entertainers as the first generation of what he calls “African-American affluents.”

Carson has been especially taken with money manager and chair of Fletcher Asset Management Alphonse Fletcher, who operated below the publicity radar until 2004, on the 50th anniversary of the Supreme Court’s 1954 Brown v. Board of Education decision, when he gave $50 million, to be awarded over a number of years, to endow scholarships that will advance the ideals of the decision. Fletcher has formed a committee, which includes Henry Louis Gates, Jr., director of the W. E. B. Du Bois Institute for African and African American Research at Harvard, to help him decide on the most effective ways to disburse the funds. Fletcher intends for a portion of the money to support established institutions such as the Howard University School of Law, the NAACP and the NAACP Legal Defense Fund, but individuals doing innovative and committee work on improving race relations and related issues will likely benefit, as well. “Fletcher is the future,” says Carson, and he should know: when it comes to research on African-American philanthropy, Dr. Emmett Carson is the gold standard.

For African Americans, Carson explained during the course of a conversation with this reporter, philanthropy has been “a survival mechanism” almost from the beginning. At first, African-American philanthropy was characterized by aid from friends and neighbors during periods of crisis: a house that burned down, a passenger seeking safe haven on the Underground Railroad, a school or bank hungry for seed money. “These direct services were often channeled through the churches,” Carson notes. “At many points in our history we lacked access to the capital of mainstream society, so we have had to cultivate our own charitable resources to fuel our civic efforts. We have really had to do things on our own.”

Carson defines the second stage in the evolution of African-American philanthropy as taking shape in the late 1960s and 70s as represented by the National Black United Fund, which was founded in 1972 “to provide a viable, systematic, and cost efficient mechanism for black Americans to make charitable contributions to black American organizations engaged in social change, development, and human services.” For the first time, people were systematically donating money to causes and institutions that were not necessarily known to them personally, but that they believed would benefit the African American community as a whole.

“Now fast-forward to the year 2000 or 2001,” Carson continues, “and you see the third stage in the evolution, where wealthy African Americans are beginning to serve as donor advisors through community foundations—or even setting up philanthropic foundations of their own. Now consider what a difference it would make if only a fraction of wealthy African-Americans were to ask in the course of their estate planning, ‘How do I want to continue to be generous when I’m no longer here?’” Carson notes that since “wealthy people share an information network that differs from that of others” and have more access to financial advisors, it may be that today, distinctions among groups of people are based much more on class, than race, which may also be a contributing factor in planning for a philanthropic legacy.

Assessing the trends he sees emerging in African American philanthropy, Carson is thoughtful, suggesting that, “We have not used black philanthropy in the modern period to support social change nearly to the extent that we did in our earlier years.” Why is that? Carson suggests that perhaps it’s because in the past, blacks in America saw themselves as an oppressed community, and so their philanthropy reflected that sense—but today, successful Americans of every race have benefited from the nation’s economic progress and so, in many cases, seem less focused on systemic reform.

When asked if the problem, then, is that African Americans aren’t giving enough, Carson says, “I tell charitable organizations, ‘If people aren’t giving to you, it’s not because of them—it’s because of you.’ People today are generous, but charities must be more accountable: for instance, does your staff reflect the diversity of the broader community?” Citing specific examples, Carson points to a study of teen pregnancy in Newark, New Jersey that showed, despite the high teen pregnancy rates, Planned Parenthood lacked an office in that city. “How can you mount a campaign when you’re absent from the community?” he asks. And, “Heart disease is a leading cause of death for black men,” he notes, “but how many times have you seen an African American talking about heart disease on a billboard or a TV commercial?”

When asked about his own clear-eyed view of charitable giving, Carson, who has urged black philanthropists not to limit themselves exclusively to supporting black organizations or causes, explains, “My father always said, ‘You’ve got to rake the neighbors’ leaves, you’ve got to shovel their snow.’ By his own actions—helping the elderly neighbors on both sides—he demonstrated that voluntarism is just as sturdy a pillar of African-American philanthropy as giving money. Although I started working in philanthropy only later in my life, my father showed me that I had been a philanthropist all my life.”

How does it feel for someone so thoroughly steeped in the psychology of philanthropy to donate money from his own pocket? “It gives me a sense of satisfaction,” Carson replied without hesitation. “It’s comforting to think that a kid from the South Side of Chicago could become secure enough in his professional development—and in his family’s financial future—to support a cause he cares about without having to worry about eating the next day.”

Building Blocks of Black Philanthropy

Among the keystone organizations that aim to institutionalize Black philanthropy, these are a few of the notables that have either emerged in recent years or endured for decades:

Association of Black Foundation Executives, founded in 1971, focuses on promoting “effective and responsive philanthropy in Black communities.” The organization supports initiatives aimed at strengthening “the effectiveness of philanthropic professionals and institutions whose priorities include addressing issues facing communities of the Black diaspora.”

The Twenty-First Century Foundation was created in 1971 as an endowed, national philanthropic institution that supports the civil rights, economic empowerment, and grassroots leadership of the African American community in the United States through its grantmaking and donor services. Its mission is to facilitate “strategic giving for black community change. Specifically, 21CF works with donors to invest in institutions and leaders that solve problems within black communities nationally.”

The National Black United Fund was founded in 1972 with a focus on the areas of “health, education, children, criminal justice, economic development, discrimination, and other systemic needs that shaped the quality of life for Black Americans.” Among its current concerns: “A restoration of philanthropic values must be introduced to a young Black American wealthy and affluent class, and systematic models and channels for philanthropic giving must be created for both traditional and new generations of Black American philanthropists.”

National Center for Black Philanthropy “conducts National Conferences on Black Philanthropy, which began in Philadelphia in 1997.” Today, the conferences feature “on average, over forty workshops, panels and plenary sessions exploring black participation in grant making, fundraising, individual giving, and faith-based philanthropy through the Historically Black Church.”

Next page: When allegations of abuse were levelled at an administrator of the $40 million Oprah Winfrey Leadership Academy for Girls in South Africa, which Winfrey had created, she was praised for flying to South Africa and dealing with the problem directly. “The good coming out of this…” wrote one reporter, “is that those girls [will have an] idea of what a powerful woman looks like and what she stands for.”

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