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

Should African Americans
Give More?
Dr. Alvin F. Poussaint, the civil rights champion-turned-Harvard-academic (he is professor of psychiatry and faculty associate dean for student affairs at Harvard Medical School, as well as director of the Media Center of the Judge Baker Children’s Center in Boston) told me about a fundraiser given in his honor and chaired by Bill Cosby. It netted about $170,000—a tidy sum considering that the donors were far from wealthy, and that their average gift was $1,000. This was certainly an example of generous giving—but at the same time, Dr. Poussaint said that he felt torn. In his mind, at least, African Americans can and should be doing much more on the front lines of philanthropic giving.

Dr. Poussaint says he sometimes thinks that “African Americans don’t have enough commitment to charitable giving, even though it works in their behalf. There’s also a trace of suspicion: ‘Will my money be used right?’ And then there’s the reluctance to hand over money that might be better used for something else.”

When I asked Dr. Poussaint to diagnose the current state of African American philanthropy in America, he said, “It has to improve, because right now, it’s not sufficient to support our organizations. We can do much, much better. Indeed, it’s crucial for African Americans to give more.” In his opinion, many programs meant to benefit blacks show an over-reliance on corporate support, as opposed to the sort of grassroots funds that might be raised from the black community. He draws an analogy to black businesses that fail in the black community because the latter neglects to support the former.

Especially damaging, said Poussaint, is when scandals enter the picture—when some major religious figure gets convicted for embezzling funds from his own church, for example. “People read about scandals like that and worry about whether their money was simply paying that official’s fat salary.”

“People like to see results,” Poussaint continues. “What did you accomplish? What victories have you had? What are you going to use this money for in the future? Some people prefer programs in which their money funds ‘general operating expenses,’ but that sounds just unacceptably vague to me.” Where should African Americans concentrate their giving, then? “The needs in the black community are so great,” Poussaint answers, “that in the beginning you should help take care of your own.”

Pouissant’s detractors might well disagree, pointing out that giving takes many forms within the African American community. Though some are perhaps not nearly generous enough—a charge often leveled at black athletes and entertainers raking in millions of dollars—others are generous to a fault. And, as noted earlier in this article, many blacks whose income is hardly even near the “wealthy” range tend to be steady and dedicated givers.

Generation Next:
The Future of Philanthropy
Mention the name “Vernon Jordan” and not everyone will call to mind his wife, Ann Dibble Jordan. Yet she is a powerhouse in her own right, chairing or sitting on the boards of corporations and nonprofits alike—among them, the National Symphony Orchestra, public television station WETA (Washington D.C.’s PBS affiliate), the Washington Area Women’s Foundation, Sasha Bruce Youthwork, and Catalyst. This year, Jordan retired from the boards of Citigroup, Johnson & Johnson, and ADP, after long years of service.

Some observers see Ann Jordan as a “philanthropic influential”—someone who can wield her fiscal expertise to benefit select worthy causes; a person strategically positioned to broker connections between donors and recipients. She doesn’t deny it. “You have to use what resources you can,” she said to me, laughing. “We all reach out to our friends, who we think can help us or introduce us to other people in pursuit of a worthwhile cause.”

Corporate America has become a stakeholder in African American philanthropy, Jordan believes, but at the same time “we always want to see more.” Looking forward ten years, she sees African-American philanthropy as part of the mainstream. “All of these young people you see doing so well have sound philanthropic instincts,” she notes. “Young people focus on their return on investment, which is a smart way to do it. They want to know what percentage of funds raised go directly to the cause versus what percentage goes to administrative costs. When I think about the intelligence they are applying to the process, I feel optimistic about the future of charitable support for community organizations.”

Why Tavis is Smiling
One recent event not to miss for those interested in African American giving was the Sixth National Conference on Black Philanthropy, held in Washington, D.C. over three days in July 2007 and sponsored by the National Center for Black Philanthropy. The symposium explored how African American philanthropy in particular can help solve the problems facing many black Americans.

The touchstone throughout the conference was Tavis Smiley’s searingly honest essay collection, The Covenant with Black America (Third World Press, 2006), which takes a hard look at the array of social and economic circumstances confronting African Americans. Attendees were challenged to come up with new ways of identifying potential donors, as well as new ways of welcoming young people into the philanthropic fold.

The first thing you notice about Tavis Smiley is, in fact, his smile. Perhaps it’s the occupational legacy of the countless television shows on which he has appeared, including his current platform: a late-night television talk show, as well as his radio program, The Tavis Smiley Show, which is distributed by Public Radio International (PRI). Smiley has also written an autobiography, What I Know for Sure: My Story of Growing Up in America (Doubleday, 2006).

What people may not know for sure is that Smiley directs one of the most successful charitable foundations around. The mission of the Tavis Smiley Foundation is to “enlighten, encourage and empower youth by providing leadership skills that will promote the quality of life for themselves, their communities and the world.” It all began when Smiley became the mentor of a young boy whose mother was seeking influences that would shield her son from gang recruitment in their Atlanta neighborhood. “Many young black men around the country face that challenge,” Smiley says. The mother asked Tavis if her son could shadow him for a day, and Tavis decided to extend their time together to a week. For a while, the boy traveled everywhere Smiley’s work took him, including on a business trip to Canada. Smiley described their growing bond of trust during one of his commentaries on the nationally syndicated radio program, The Tom Joyner Morning Show.

That’s when the floodgates opened up. “Every mother in the country, it seemed, wanted me to do this,” Smiley explains. He also received—and answered—an avalanche of mail from young people seeking his advice about some fairly profound intersections in their lives. So dynamic was this feedback—and so dramatic was Smiley’s positive effect on his “mentee”—that in 1999 he created his eponymous foundation to try to continue the work on a wider basis.

In forming the foundation, Smiley sought out a council of experts who had trod these paths before. They advised him how to set up the foundation, how to manage the finances, and how to be crystal-clear about the mission. “From the very beginning,” Smiley recalls, “we knew exactly what we wanted—and that’s half the battle right there.” Still, Smiley doesn’t hesitate to admit to mistakes. Among the early painful lessons Smiley and his team had to learn were these:

When a grant comes in, you can’t simply spend what has been given to you.

Backers need to know what you’ve done with their money.

Reports not filed on time can cause problems.

Someone who is an ace at programming can make a lousy bookkeeper. You need someone strong in that position so you don’t find yourself spending money you don’t have.

It’s never a good idea to blow the deadline on submitting the results of an internal audit.

Because Smiley’s name was on the foundation, he wanted to be intimately involved in every aspect of its work. That commitment has enabled him to engage with young people, which in turn has made him increasingly hopeful about the future. Each year he spends time speaking with students at the foundation’s annual Leadership Institute, a five-day conference held during the summer on a college campus. Since its inception, more than 6,000 youths ages 13 to 18 have participated in the foundation’s Youth 2 Leaders program. “A lot of bright, talented, ambitious young people out there want to make a meaningful contribution to their community and country,” Smiley says.

Blinkered by the intensity of his drive to reach the pinnacle of his profession, Smiley explains that he had no clue his one-on-one work with kids would emerge as the most rewarding aspect of his work with the foundation. “That’s going to be my focus going forward,” he says, “and I hope it will be my lifetime legacy, as well. The TV show, the radio show, a book in print after I’m gone—none of that matters. What truly lives on is the work you do for young people, because they’re going to pass it on to other young people, in turn.” He adds, “I never realized that giving could feel so good.”

Next page: “What truly lives on is the work you do for young people, because they’re going to pass it on to other young people, in turn,” says Tavis Smiley. He adds,“I never realized that giving could feel so good.”

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