“As long as I continue to make the same, bold, urgent steps in a transformative direction… a lot of white people are going to stay mad at me. So rather than feel put off by some of the negative feedback, I intend to use it as a gauge of my success.” – Mariah Parker
In 2019, when I made a commitment to fighting for equity in the fundraising sector, I knew the work would be hard. I knew that to enact change, the sector needed to be shaken out of a sense of complacency around sexual harassment and I would use my story, in whatever way I felt was necessary, to raise awareness of the issue. What I did not anticipate was the backlash, and who the backlash would be from.
I anticipated the ultra-conservative Joe’s of the world, that was predictable. The Joe’s of the world have done everything from sub-tweet me to actively try to sabotage me by contacting my employer. Their behaviours are not remotely surprising or terribly creative.
What I did not anticipate were the women. I did not anticipate the Karen’s of the sector. The white women that defend and uphold the status quo. The multitude of white women with their performative allyship. White women who “practice the politics of polite and the violence of nice.” White women who defend practices that do harm. White women who are gatekeepers to privilege and power. White women who are dedicated to a form of leadership that is “devoted to the inoffensive.” White women who refuse to see how complicit they are in the systemic misogyny and racism embedded in the sector.
Our sector identifies as predominantly female (70%) and predominantly white (85%). While men still dominate the executive or C-suite roles in fundraising, white women make up the majority of directors, managers, and supervisory roles. White women are the gatekeepers of information in our sector. White women make up the majority of roles that dictate policy and direct professional development dollars. White women play a significant role in why our sector perpetuates racial inequity, and we need to own up to it.
The late and great Ruth Bader Ginsberg was quoted as saying “fight for the things you care about but do it in a way that leads others to join you.” I have been sent this quote on more than one occasion by well-meaning white women who think my opinions are alienating. The irony is that they do not understand who I am speaking to. The people I want to inspire are not those interested in upholding inequitable power structures, but a new generation of fundraisers, leaders, and activists who are working to upend these practices.
In an Ethical Rainmaker Podcast episode, White Women as Gatekeepers, diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) consultant Fleur Larson notes that white women come to the profession with a deep sense of martyrdom as the motivator. This sense of martyrdom, our deep need to be liked, supersedes our ability to do what is right. We rally around one-another, creating a sense of exclusion or cliquishness that alienates those who question us. This presents itself in the form of gossip and back-room-chatter, where white women protect themselves against criticism from their peers.
This behaviour is at its worst when anyone critiques donor-centric fundraising in our sector. With the rise of the community-centric fundraising movement, we have witnessed everything from polite critique, to embarrassing back-lash from the most senior members of our sector. The critiques of the movement vary from the benign to malignant, with some questioning the validity of community-centric fundraising altogether. While many men in our sector have displayed a deep lack of understanding, it is the dissent of so many moderate white women I find deeply problematic.
Well-meaning moderate white women defend some of the most antiquated and outdated practices in our sector. We downplay the dangers of our profession to young employees. We say this is how it has always been done. When told we are being racist, we threaten lawsuits. We are outraged about things like the critique of using hand-written notes, but we go silent when our voices are needed most. We focus on the minutiae of fundraising, while we ignore the oppressive systems we preserve.
Why is it so difficult for white women to relinquish their status as gatekeepers? Why do white women have so much trouble giving up space and opportunities for fundraisers of colour? Why are we not actively engaged in listening to and amplifying fundraisers of colour? Because power is addictive. Because it took white women a long time to acquire status and power, and now that we are being questioned, we are fragile and defensive. Because we learned extraordinarily little in the journey towards equity about fighting for all women, not just white women.
Because we were raised in a patriarchal society that values power over, not power with. If our goal as white women in the sector is power equal to white men, then we have failed miserably.
What is worse, is that when we are called out on these issues we white women respond with totally fragility. Writer, lecturer, and Black activist Rachel Cargyle hosts workshops called “Unpacking White Feminism” where she specifically addresses the work white women need to do around equity. She often finds that participants come up to her in tears, looking for condolences. She notes that when this happens, she tells them to come back when they are composed. She equates this to men complaining “not all men” or that dealing with the patriarchy is hard.
Why are white women so fragile? Because we’ve been socialized to be this way. How many times were you told in your life to “be helpful, be kind, be someone people like.” As author and sociologist, Robin DiAgnelo states in her book White Fragility, white people are historically terrible and discussing racism. She spends an entire book addressing how white people support the “pillars of whiteness” that prop up racist beliefs without realizing it. White women have been coddled and comforted in the knowledge that they had to fight for equity, but often refuse to acknowledge their complicity in systemic racist practices. A racialized fundraiser recently told me, “I can handle the outright racists, but the white moderate women in our sector who pretend to be allies is so much worse.”
This is a call to action for all the white women in positions of power in the fundraising sector – we need to do better. We must relinquish our tight grip on the “clipboard” of power. We must listen to our peers with compassion and grace. We must reflect on our own actions, reflect, and move forward with intention. But most of all, we must stop expecting change to happen without discomfort.
It’s time to be deeply uncomfortable.
Liz LeClair, CFRE is a Co-Founder, National Day of Conversation and Director of Major Gifts, QEII Health Sciences Centre Foundation. Liz LeClair is proud to call herself a fundraiser and a feminist. She brings more than 15 years of experience to her role as the Director of Major Gifts at the QE2 Foundation in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Liz is a long-standing member of the Association of Fundraising Professionals; sits on the board of Certified Fundraising Executive International, volunteers on numerous national boards and committees, and is the current Chair of the AFP Women’s Impact Initiative, an initiative started in response to the #MeToo Movement in the non-profit sector. In January 2019, Liz published an op-ed with CBC on the issue of sexual harassment in the non-profit sector followed by numerous industry articles on this issue.
Cover photo by Ehimetalor Akhere Unuabona on Unsplash
