- George Saunders

Her face brightened and she smiled. Her whole being lightened, as though she’d taken a deep, refreshing breath: “I made it,” she said softly as though not wanting to brag. This young woman, a stranger I encountered shopping for supplements at the co-op, whose dress—a simple design with muted floral pattern—I had just complimented. A brief but meaningful moment of connection, a breath of fresh air for us both, prompted by a handmade summer dress.

My friend Deloris, a fellow nonprofit fundraiser, defines philanthropy as love in action. So often—too often in my view—philanthropy describes only financial support: a donation, a gala, a grant. Philanthropy is, of course, each of those things. And, it is also compliments, smiles, and moments of attention we give one another.

I wonder how many times I have missed heart-warming, soul-nourishing opportunities for connection while rushing to find and grab what I need so that I can hurry on to the next thing. Efficiently oblivious to those around me or, worse, annoyed by them for slowing me down.

I have been thinking about our responsibility to one another. Not just friends and family, or even neighbors, but those we encounter who do not, and will not, play significant roles in our lives but are present with us right here, right now. What do we owe one another? How often have I rushed past someone who might have benefited from a compliment? Or a smile? How much better would I feel if I slowed down, noticed more, and committed to prioritizing love in action?

When I visited the memorial for Alex Pretti, the ICU nurse killed by ICE, back in February, among the flowers, photos, posters and those paying their respects was a visibly upset lumberjack-looking man in flannel jacket and Sorels. Pacing and grumbling expletives under his breath, he stayed close for only a few minutes before stepping away seemingly overwhelmed. I felt something similar. Minutes later, when he returned from his retreat, I acknowledged him and said, “You look like you could use a hug and I know I could…” Before my sentence was complete, he stepped toward me, arms extended. We embraced, and we cried. Two complete strangers brought together by tragedy, comforted by our shared grief.

On any given day, most of us come in contact with more strangers and acquaintances than loved ones. These oft-overlooked encounters can be powerful and demonstrate we are not alone in this world. When we slow down for them. Just as Prince sang, all of us are “gathered here today to get through this thing called life.”

Science has confirmed what religious leaders and philosophers have taught for thousands of years: generosity is a gift to both the recipient and the giver. The compliment shared at the co-op and the hug offered back in February were as self-serving as they were generous.

I don’t expect to see the woman with the pretty, handmade dress or the man who reminded me a bit of Paul Bunyan—the mythical giant whose footprints created Minnesota’s 10,000 lakes—again. These encounters will almost certainly fade from my memory. But they matter and, in those moments, they were as significant as any philanthropy I’ve facilitated.

P.S. I’d love to hear about your own experience of love in action or connecting with strangers. Hit reply or comment to share.

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But celebrations require effort. Effort that, in most cases, is carried out by women. Kinkeepers—a term coined by sociologist Carolyn Rosenthal in 1985—refers to family and community members who maintain ties through news-sharing, gatherings, and celebrations. According to Rosenthal’s research, most families have a kinkeeper, the vast majority of them women. In 2017, sociologist Dawn Braithwaite revisited kinkeepers and found that while technology had shifted how kinkeepers “keep their kin,” the majority of kinkeeping was still performed by women.

Not surprisingly, International Women’s Day is a celebration of women created, planned, and mostly celebrated by women. The brainchild of journalist and garment worker Theresa Malkiel, “Woman’s Day” was first observed and organized in the U.S. by the Socialist Party of America in 1909. Soon after, German Socialist Clara Zetkin proposed an international version and in 1911 millions of women across Europe demonstrated on the first International Women’s Day demanding suffrage and fair work conditions.

Although the issues that drove Malkiel and Zetkin persist, my energy for this day waned of late. Weary from supporting efforts—many led by women—to preserve constitutional rights in my home state and across the country, my will, optimism, and hope was further extinguished by the killing of hundreds of schoolgirls in Iran this past week. Life—indeed the world—is heavy.

So, I decided to sit this one out; leave others to write and post, acknowledge and celebrate. I didn’t have it in me. Instead, I went about my day. I headed to the grocery store, where two young fathers—both shopping with infants in tow—reminded me that women are not alone in this. After so many years of progress for women that has too often felt like additional work for women—we get to do the big jobs and keep doing the housework!—men are stepping up. Not all of them, obviously. And not enough of them, in my opinion. But plenty, like the father of my new cousin (pictured above) who is on paternity leave, are taking on more of the work of raising children and managing households.

Since Malkiel and Zetkin launched this day more than a century ago, women have made tremendous strides and demonstrated that, when allowed, we can be equal to men. But we cannot—and should not—keep doing this alone.

Today, as we celebrate the women who raise children, support families, and keep communities connected, I am reminded that the progress that opened doors for women in boardrooms, legislatures, and laboratories has also opened space for men to step more fully into the wonder and joy of raising children and keeping kin.

International Women’s Day began as a demand for women’s rights; perhaps now it can serve as an invitation—for men to join us not only in the fight for rights, but in the most meaningful work this life offers: love and community.

May Liam’s homecoming and every whisper of hope—from Texas to Minnesota and beyond—lighten your burden, soothe your soul, restore your faith in humanity, and strengthen your resolve.

The arc of the moral universe does not bend toward justice minus our voices, our protests, and our collective power. United we stand. And, united we will prevail against hate and fear.

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I am angry.

Once again authorities call for calm while information that can be used to villainize the victim evidence is gathered.

I am angry.

The ‘worst of the worst’ includes children.

I am angry.

Once again the killing was caught on video. We are already being told to question what we see with our own eyes.

I am angry.

Whistles, shouts and tear gas fill the air. Fear fills hearts and minds. Unarmed civilians guard their neighbors against masked, heavily armed agents.

I am angry.

That the world still turns while so many lives are disrupted and under threat is disorienting. The expectation that life goes on feels dismissive. Cruel, even.

I am angry.

Constitutional rights are selectively applied and enforced. Peaceful protest is met with force.

I am angry.

There is footage of ICE agents forcibly taking phones from witnesses who captured video of the incident.

I am angry. I hope you are too.

“Everybody can be great...because anybody can serve. You don’t have to have a college degree to serve. You don’t have to make your subject and verb agree to serve. You only need a heart full of grace. A soul generated by love.”

― Martin Luther King Jr.

During freshman year at the University of Portland—my first experience living outside Minnesota—friends often referred to me as Faith from Minnesooota, in part because of my accent (I still got it!) and in part because I bragged about Minnesota. A lot. Since then, across life in three more states, my praise for the place and the people who shaped my life and worldview has continued—sometimes to the annoyance of others.

Never though, in my 50+ years, have I felt more proud to be a Minnesotan than I have these last weeks. Watching the state, and my friends and family, protect one another and stand strong against ICE has not only reaffirmed pride in my home state, it’s bolstered my hope and that of so many others outside the state as our democracy and national ideals of equality and justice for all are challenged.

Minnesota Nice

Known for pleasantness and agreeability, Minnesotans are also tough. You don’t survive months of cold and darkness–Every. Single. Year–by being weak. Below zero temps for days and even weeks on end? A foot of snow? Life goes on. During my childhood, after a major snowstorm left roads impassable, my mom walked miles to open the grocery store she managed—the only employee to make it in to serve the handful of customers who lived close enough to get there on foot—while the rest of the city waited for plows to come through. Her determination and sense of responsibility taught me to take action, to do what I can even when it’s hard or doesn’t seem like much.

I see that today. In addition to those we see on social media actively protesting ICE’s lawlessness and disorderly conduct, countless others are alerting neighbors and loved ones of ICE’s presence, buying and delivering groceries and supplies to those who are now homebound, and supporting GoFundMe’s to provide legal and other support to those who need it. Minnesotans are standing as one.

Despite the niceness and fortitude of its people, Minnesota is not perfect. Racism–in the form of lynchings, redlining and segregation—plays too prominent a role in the state’s history. As well as its present. We witnessed the murders of Philando Castile and George Floyd; too many others were not caught on tape. Minnesota faces the same challenges we face as a nation. But most Minnesotans—including those who lead within the state and represent it beyond—understand that, in the words of the late Senator Paul Wellstone, “We all do better when we all do better.”

So, despite not looking like or agreeing with our neighbors, or worshipping in the same way or spaces they do, our efforts and our energy are better spent building communities that function for us all than fighting amongst ourselves. While not alone in this belief—a September 2025 Reuters/Ipsos survey found that 90% of Americans see an “urgent need for greater unity”—Minnesotans today are showing the country and the world what it looks like in practice.

Civic-minded and community-focused

Several years ago, a friend here in Dallas commended me for volunteering. Repeatedly. Every time it came up in conversation, she gushed about how great it was that I volunteer. To my Minnesotan ears, her praise was disconcerting. It felt over-the-top, disproportionate to my effort. A participation trophy of sorts awarded for something that feels natural and even expected. To me, her view of volunteering as extraordinary felt just as unusual as my volunteering was to her. Rather than exceptional, volunteering—serving on boards, delivering Meals on Wheels, reading in classrooms, or shoveling your neighbor’s sidewalk—is simply a way of life in Minnesota.

Thus, while I am deeply proud, I am not at all surprised by Minnesota’s response to ICE.

One of my all-time-favorite, most awe-inspiring things occurs every Spring in Minnesota when the last of the lake ice, now broken into small pieces, blows against shore creating the ethereal tinkling of windchimes. A signal that winter is over, the magical sound promises warmer temperatures and brighter days ahead. I eagerly await that day—literally and metaphorically—more urgently than ever this year.

“To have no more running to do ... to have arrived, and have no more need to run. The appetite changes. Now I think it would be a beautiful thing to be still.”
― Ellis Peters

For me, the holiday season epitomizes my experience of motherhood: the constant, sometimes overwhelming, tension between doing all the things and savoring every moment—regardless of what remains on the to-do list.

As I write this from a pet sit in my hometown of Minneapolis, my daughter now grown, leaving me with far fewer holiday responsibilities than in the past, that tension remains. Evolved but no less poignant. No longer chasing the hottest toy or latest gadget (at least until grandchildren) or hosting Martha Stewart-worthy gatherings, I find myself playing an internal game of tug-of-war between meticulously curating my calendar to ensure time with as many friends and family as possible and a gentler, unscripted approach of allowing my schedule and plans to unfold as they may. Simply being, fully present with, to and for those around me.

I’d like to (and often do) blame this tension on external forces—advertising and marketing, mainstream and social media, the patriarchy, consumerism, even my own child. But the honest truth is that it comes from me, as much or more than it is thrust upon me by others. My own ambition, driven by both love and insecurities, to create meaningful moments and memories. And, in doing so losing sight of the magic that simply is.

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Today, on this darkest day of the year, final night of Hanukkah, and start of Christmas week—whether you are lighting the last candle, scrambling to wrap up gifts or shopping, or marking just another Sunday—I offer this simple wish: Stillness.

May you pause amidst so much to do and so many to see; quiet the noise of ads, influencers, experts, and your own children; and be still. Breathe deeply. Look around. Witness the magic that is already there. Magic that is always there. Even when plans fall through and expectations fall short.

Then, in that same stillness, go within. Find that peaceful place, always there but so often drowned out or ignored. Trust that peace. And yourself.

Wishing you a Happy Hanukkah, Blessed Solistice, relaxing Sunday, Joyous Festivus, Heri za Kwanzaa, Namaste, and Merry Christmas.

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As I waited near the valet stand for my friends to arrive, a young woman approached and asked if I would zip her dress. Not able to reach, she drove to the event with her dress not fully zipped. At the end of the evening, again near the valet stand while waiting for my vehicle, another woman—this one middle aged—asked me for help. She requested I unzip her dress an inch or two so she could get out of the dress when she got home.

Twice in one night! Why is this happening?

Like Keri Russell’s character Kate Wyler in Netflix’s “The Diplomat” and the women at Fur Ball, I have struggled (sometimes mightily) to get into and out of clothing alone. I can’t imagine there are many women who have not. The first person to whom I mentioned this, owner of a women’s clothing boutique in Minneapolis, laughed out loud. She had literally just arrived at a friend’s home with—you guessed it—her dress unzipped. This is reality for those of us who wear fashion designed for women.

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But why? Why is clothing designed for everyday life that women can’t get into or out of without assistance? While true that more of us live alone than in the past, women have been dressing ourselves for an awfully long time. Shouldn’t the clothes we wear be accessible regardless of our living arrangements?

Turns out I’m not the first to ask. According to Amaia Odriozola, writing for EL PAÍS in 2023, the modern zipper was invented in 1913. “In the early years, zippers were used to close rubber boots and tobacco bags,” she notes. “It took almost two decades to convince the fashion industry that this novel closure had sensational potential.”

Ironically, a 1930s campaign for children’s clothing with zippers—side and front—promoted self-sufficiency: young children could now dress themselves with little help. Meanwhile, women’s clothing featuring side and front zippers was controversial: enabling women to undress more quickly might encourage promiscuity. Soon after, in the 1940s, women’s zippers moved to the back.

I am not suggesting a fashion conspiracy to keep women dependent on others. Today, back zippers are the norm, a bad habit that no longer serves us—and, perhaps never did. A norm that poses a legitimate handicap for women. Like the pink tax—goods and services for women priced higher than their equivalents for men—these disadvantages add up. (I am not aware of an equivalent intended for men; if it exists please share!)

In her book, “We Need to Talk: How to Have Conversations That Matter,” Celeste Headlee writes, “There are four sides to my body and three of them are absolutely perfect for seeing a zipper, getting a good grip on it, and zipping it up. So why? Why, in the name of all that is holy, do clothesmakers insist on putting the zipper on the one side of my body that I can’t see and can’t reach without engaging in extreme yoga? To me, this is a feminist issue.”

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Back zippers are clearly not the most urgent issue facing women, our nation, or the world. But in the face of frightening polarization; warp-speed technological transformation, implementation and reliance; and fundamental disagreements about democracy, identity and American values, perhaps it’s a simple, less fraught place to start. Instead of another season of trends, perhaps fashion needs a shift in perspective—one that values autonomy as much as aesthetics.

If the clothes we wear can make us feel powerful, beautiful, and seen, shouldn’t they also allow us to move, live, and dress ourselves without contortion or dependence.

Embarrassed and apologizing profusely, I explained to those around the table that my toddler and I had a rough morning. Without missing a beat, the woman across from me, another real estate agent and mother, reached across the table and kindly placed her hand on mine. “I’ve been there,” she said. “There were days my child and I were both in tears by the time we left the house.” Stunned by her admission, and comforted by her compassion and honesty, my shoulders dropped and my tension released, deeply relieved to know I wasn’t alone.

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As much as I love being a mother and have adored my daughter at (almost) every stage, balancing the demands of raising a child mostly on my own while also running a business and a household frequently felt impossible. In those early days, I was consistently late, operating on too little sleep and too much Diet Coke, overwhelmed and far from my best self. This was not the version of motherhood I had envisioned for myself and my family.

Throughout my childhood, my mother worked far more than any of the other moms I knew. She was also the youngest mom I knew. Married and a mother before her 17th birthday, then later a divorced single mom, she juggled long hours at multiple jobs with the demands of raising two daughters. Our family struggled—in nearly every sense. As a child, the version of motherhood I observed and experienced seemed grueling and undesirable. I wanted something different.

As the saying goes, “it takes a village.” Thankfully, we had one. Grandparents, neighbors, and classmates’ parents filled in gaps. None of them worked as much as my parents, and their support helped keep us afloat. I saw in them and their families another kind of motherhood—one that was gentler and softer, one that seemed easier. I wanted that and promised myself I’d do things differently.

And I did. I became a mother at 31—nearly double my mom’s age when she had me—with both a high school diploma and a college degree. I had prepared and I was ready. Or so I thought. Though the privilege of age and education afforded me better paying jobs and more time at home, technology, my own ambition and fear of failure, and the Great Recession often kept me working nonetheless. I did it differently and still managed to make many of the same mistakes. Along with plenty of new ones.

Motherhood has brought me my proudest and most joyful moments. It also consistently humbles me.

None of us has it all figured out. Just when life seems stable, something shifts. What works well for one child, doesn’t for another. Most of us have regrets, things we would do differently if somehow magically given the chance. Even the best prepared and most well-intentioned among us sometimes feel we’re falling short. I am forever grateful to the mother across that conference table for her caring compassion. For validating my struggles and affirming my experience.

Although it is not always easy, sharing our honest stories—especially our struggles and the parts that don’t make us proud—can soften self-judgment and create space for others to do the same. The villages celebrated for supporting and raising children, support mothers too. My hope is that On Motherhood books will be one of those villages. Like the mother across the table from me so many years ago, providing a safe community and a forum for honesty, reflection, vulnerability and mutual support.

Interested in sharing your motherhood story? Simply complete our contributor interest form. We’d love to learn more about you and your journey.

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“To be trusted is a greater compliment than to be loved.”

― George MacDonald

Who and what do you trust? In an era fraught with misinformation, intentional suppression of facts, and a perpetual tsunami of conflicting news and opinions, the answer for most of us is fewer and less.

According to the 2025 Edelman Trust Barometer, 7 of 10 adults surveyed from 28 countries believe government, business leaders, and journalists intentionally mislead the public. Belief that business leaders knowingly lie has increased 12% since 2021; government leaders and journalists trail only slightly with an 11% increase during the same period.

The abysmal state of trust among us has resulted in what Edelman CEO Richard Edelman calls a grievance crisis: widespread sense of distrust, resentment, and perceived injustice directed at business, government and other institutions. We all feel it and see its negative impacts on ourselves and our communities. But what to do about it?

"Moving back from a grievance-based society will require a cross-institution effort to address issues like information integrity, affordability, sustainability, and the future of AI,” Edelson says.

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Is philanthropy our best hope?

Philanthropy relies on trust. Donors’ must trust that contributions will be used efficiently and effectively for the purpose promised or they stop giving. Volunteers must trust that their time will be well used and valued or they stop showing up. Program recipients must trust they will receive services they need without discrimination or judgment or they go elsewhere or without.

“Nonprofits stand at the forefront of social impact, transforming communities and lives every day. But no mission—no matter how noble—can thrive without the confidence of its supporters,” notes Shannon McCracken, CEO of The Nonprofit Alliance. “Trust is our sector’s greatest currency, and we must guard it fervently.”

While not immune from declining trust, nonprofits are faring better than other sectors. Although trending downward, respondents in 11 of 28 countries surveyed by Edelman expressed trust in nonprofit and nongovernment organizations. Americans are among them. The Nonprofit Alliance’s most recent survey found: “69% of Americans trust (completely, moderately, or somewhat) nonprofits to operate effectively and act in the best interests of all stakeholders, including customers, donors, and community members.” Another report, this one from Edelman and Independent Sector, a nonprofit dedicated to strengthening the nonprofit sector, found trust in nonprofits increased five points in 2024 to 57% following four years of decline.

Further, Edelman and Independent Sector found Americans have greater faith in nonprofits to reduce divisions than we do in corporations, government, or media to do so. At a time when 74% of Americans are concerned about the direction of our country and 94% are worried about growing divisions, perhaps it is time to go all in on philanthropy. Before it is too late.

Time is of the essence. Not only is our current state of trust and division unsustainable, the nonprofit sector itself is at risk. Importantly, the Independent Sector/Edelman study found that while trust in nonprofits increased, trust in private foundations and high-net-worth individuals is significantly lower—at 33%, about the same as the previous year but considerably lower than in 2020. The current trend of fewer Americans giving and nonprofits increasingly relying on support from private foundations and high-net-worth individuals is a threat.

Philanthropy is needed now. Both to meet increasing needs and to bring us together.

According to the Edelson Trust Barometer findings, compassion and understanding—two nonprofit strengths—are key to influencing change. Is it time to prioritize philanthropy in our lives, and support and amplify its impact in our society? Not philanthropy that centers the wealthy at the expense of the many, but philanthropy that embraces and supports us all. I certainly hope so.

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“Fathers should make you feel safe.”

― Karen Cushman

My dad’s Father’s Day traditions include an annual antique motorcycle show on the Mississippi River’s Nicollet Island in Minneapolis. When I called to wish him a Happy Father’s Day this morning, that’s where he was. A fitting and treasured tradition.

I grew up on my dad’s motorcycles—first in front of him and then riding behind. When I transitioned to the back and was no longer surrounded by his arms, I would tense up on turns trying to force the bike to remain upright. My dad encouraged me to relax and allow myself to lean with the turn. I recall physically and mentally feeling that difference; like a deep sigh, it felt much safer when I relaxed and allowed.

A couple years back, I had this image framed for my dad for Christmas and shared the significance his words had on me. Especially during challenging times when I find myself trying to control more than is mine.

What I learned in that sharing broadened my perspective on both my dad and my childhood—a gift to us both: The motorcycle in this picture was the first ‘nice’ one he owned, a rite of passage and dream come true for a 19-year-old young man who loved motorcycles (and still does more than a half century later). Ownership of this nice bike, however, was short-lived. After only a few months, he sold it, using the proceeds as downpayment on our first, tiny, very fixer-upper house.

Expectations of fatherhood have evolved during my lifetime, for the better I think, expanding from financial provider and protector to full parental partner. Of course, many fathers of the past provided more than economic support, including mine, yet I yearned for more than was the norm in the '70s and ‘80s.

It is easy to focus on what my childhood lacked, what my teenage parents weren’t able to provide. But that’s only part of the story: For my young parents, the story includes interrupted childhoods, significant sacrifice, deferred or abandoned dreams, and tremendous effort, usually working more than one job to make ends meet.

On this Father’s Day, I salute my dad and so many others for providing more for their children than they had for themselves. Your sacrifices and your efforts are the foundation for my hopes and dreams. Thank you.

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Opportunities to support fathers:

All Pro Dad provides tools and resources to dads that allow them to be more present in the lives of their children. Spearheaded by former NFL coach Tony Dungy, NFL player Benjamin Watson, ESPN personality Dan Orlovsky, other sports figures, All Pro Dad hosts an annual interactive get-together for kids and dads at an NFL or NCAA stadium and a monthly school program where dads meet up with their children at school to spend time bonding and relationship building.

Family Equality Council works to ensure that members of the LGBTQ community have the ability to create families and provides support, education, activism and advocacy, and resources to foster loving, healthy family relationships.

Fathers’ Uplift provides fathers with tools to overcome trauma, addiction, racial barriers, and emotional issues to help them fully engage with their children and families. Fathers’ Uplift provides therapy, coaching, training opportunities, and youth enrichment with the aim of reducing the number of children raised without positive father figures in their lives.

The National Fatherhood Initiative is the country’s largest provider of research on the involvement of fathers and the impact fathers have on families. It provides resources and training to increase father engagement with the goal of ensuring communities and human service organizations have the tools and training they need to be father-inclusive so fathers can be more involved in the lives of their children.

Looking back can be humbling, sometimes painfully so. I find it comforting to remind myself that we are all learning and growing, I am not alone. No one person has all the answers or wisdom. And, certainly, no human always gets it right.

One of the most humbling work experiences of my career was managing and eventually laying off—due entirely to market conditions—my best friend. The truth is I wasn’t a great manager then either; that Barb remains my best friend speaks to her gracious understanding and generous spirit. Generosity and grace that I am not sure I deserve but was crucial to my learning and for which I am deeply grateful.

That experience was the spark for “Beyond Boundaries: Building Relationships for Results,” the chapter I contributed to “Are we Friends or Coworkers? Exploring Relationships at Work,” now available on Amazon (and already a #1 Bestseller in 3 categories: Organizational Change, Workplace Behavior, Business Team!) and coming soon to Bookshop.org.

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It’s possible I missed the class on building positive and productive relationships at work but given the relationship challenges I have experienced and observed over decades and across industries, either many of us missed it or it doesn’t exist. While most of us received some degree of instruction around making friends as children and the plethora of voices and information related to romantic relationships can be overwhelming, many or most of us never learned how to build successful work relationships. This book specifically, and Changing Work more broadly, address that topic through the lessons of myself and 23 others.

The book also represents my return to writing. I have long expected to pick up that passion in (semi-)retirement; doing so ahead of that feels like living my best life as my complete self.

I am incredibly grateful to my fellow authors—especially the women of Writing Pod 6—and Changing Work, as well as the InnerMBA program for connecting us. An even bigger shout out to those I’ve mentioned and referred to in the chapter. Thank you for teaching me and for your patience while I continue to learn. A huge and special thanks to my soul friend Barb; without her this chapter and moment would not exist. More importantly my life would be less bright. Thank you for your friendship and love through these many (many) years.

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Just like here on Substack, it is humbling, exciting and a little scary to share my words and story. I hope you’ll check it out and find something useful for your work relationships. And, of course, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Thank you for being here.

All proceeds from Are we Friends or Coworkers? benefit Changing Work, a nonprofit organization whose mission is to change work from the inside out.

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As we tend to do, I noticed him, averted my eyes, and kept moving. Feeling grateful for my personal safety in the presence of someone who was not, attempting to reconcile my human desire to help—that internal urging to do something but minus a solution or means—with powerlessness that feels shameful. How could I possibly experience enough when others, like this man, have so little?

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It has been widely reported recently that 60% of Americans—headlines consistently refer to “the bottom 60%” instead of the majority—are not earning enough to afford a basic standard of living. The analysis conducted by the Ludwig Institute for Shared Economic Prosperity (LISEP) looked beyond daily necessities like food and shelter and considered ability to pay for things like health and child care, higher education, and technology tools necessary for work and school.

“Traditional headline economic indicators like GDP and unemployment tell us the economy is thriving, but they don’t reflect the lived reality of most Americans,” LISEP Chairman Gene Ludwig said. “Americans are working harder than ever, fueling our economic growth, but the benefits of that hard work are not being distributed in a way that supports upward mobility for too many middle- and low-income Americans."

According to LISEP, the cost of basic economic security in the U.S. increased 98.5% from 2001 to 2023. Meanwhile, median earnings for most Americans decreased approximately 4% during that same period when adjusted for inflation. Unfortunately, the gap between how much many families earn and how much they need to afford a minimum cost of living is expected to keep widening.

Is it any wonder so many are questioning our worth?

In her now viral imposter-syndrome-is-the-new-bicycle-face 2023 Smith College commencement speech, Reshma Saujani points out that imposter syndrome assumes those of us who experience it are the problem, rather than the systems—educational, societal, employment—that support and foster inequalities. “When I showed up at that fancy corporate law firm for the very first time, I had not just one but two Ivy League postgraduate degrees. Still I felt like everybody was speaking a different language,” she says. “Big law firms were built by and for people who didn’t look like me…It’s normal to feel like you don’t fit in when you don’t fit in.”

Is it possible to truly feel enough at a time in history when enough is increasingly out of reach? Perhaps so many of us are questioning our worth not because of anything inherently lacking in us but because having enough feels less and less secure and attainable.

Abraham Maslow’s widely accepted hierarchy of needs theorizes that humans cannot achieve higher psychological states of belonging, self-esteem and self-actualization until our basic needs are met. Unfortunately, those basic needs are increasingly out of reach for many.

Perhaps, like imposter syndrome, our insecurities and doubts about being enough are a normal response to external forces and realities rather than a personal failing or neurotic overthinking.

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“A warrior believes in an end she can’t see and fights for it. A warrior never gives up. A warrior fights for those weaker than herself. It sounds like motherhood to me.”

—Kristin Hannah

The weight. Few among us carry more responsibility and expectation—from both society and ourselves—than mothers. Expectation to provide regardless of preparation or means, to manage circumstances and realities beyond our control, and to provide safety and protection regardless of our own—always with unconditional love in our hearts and smiles on our faces. In so many ways, mothers are expected to make up for the shortcomings of others. Is it any wonder this day is fraught for many?

On this Mother’s Day, let’s celebrate the mothers who give good love, foster health and well being, and support their children to become thriving adults. But let us also recognize that mothers cannot be more than they are or contribute more than they have. They cannot, and should not be expected to, carry the weight alone. Let us shift from judging mothers to supporting them, and may this day land softly.

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Carry the Future - A volunteer-led organization committed to serving refugee families with love and dignity, Carry the Future focuses on filling gaps to provide critical support to refugee families in two specific ways: providing diapers and wipes and providing nourishment for children in schools and learning centers.

Every Mother Counts - The U.S. has the highest maternal mortality rate of any high-income country, despite spending the most per capita on healthcare in the world. Since 2010, Every Mother Counts has worked to build a world where maternal health truly is a human right by centering mothers, advancing proven strategies, and mobilizing advocates, with the ultimate goal of improving maternal health outcomes and the experience of care for all.

Feeding America - The Feeding America nationwide network of food banks and pantries makes healthy food easier to access and supports laws that make food available to everyone.

National Diaper Bank Network - With the goal of making sure every child, family, and individual has access to the basic essentials they need to thrive, the National Diaper Bank Network partners with a dedicated network of diaper banks, allied programs, generous donors, sponsors, and policymakers to end diaper need and period poverty in the United States.

Nurse-Family Partnership - Nurse-Family Partnership empowers first-time moms to transform their lives and create better futures for themselves and their babies by having specially educated nurses regularly visit first-time moms, starting early in the pregnancy and continuing until the child’s second birthday.

Prevent Child Abuse America - The nation’s oldest and largest organization committed to preventing child abuse and neglect before it happens, Prevent Child Abuse America promotes programs and resources informed by science that enable kids, families, and entire communities to thrive—today, tomorrow, and for generations to come.

The customer service bot and I tussled for several minutes as I stated and restated my reason for calling; eventually I gave up and requested a human. Fortunately my request—“human being, please”—was understood and I was transferred. Unfortunately, due to fruitless back and forth with the bot and my shrinking window of time, I was a less satisfied customer than I had been when the exchange began.

To be clear, I am not anti-AI or anti-automation. AI is powerful technology with significant potential for improving efficiency and solving complex problems. Indeed, I felt safer during a recent Waymo One ride than I have with most taxi, Uber or Lyft drivers. But I wonder whether customer service—or in the case of nonprofits, donor relations—is the best use of this technology? Can bots connect with customers as effectively as humans or is connection being sacrificed in the name of efficiency?

Humanizing AI

As the New York Times and others recently reported, incorporating manners—please and thank you, for example— into AI has cost tens of millions of dollars. Money “well spent” in the view of Open AI CEO Sam Altman who, like others, has expressed the view that impolite or unkind interactions with AI will build bad habits and thus decrease kindness in human interactions.

“While it is true that an AI has no feelings, my concern is that any sort of nastiness that starts to fill our interactions will not end well,” explains Scott Z. Burns, screenwriter and host of “What Could Go Wrong?” a podcast focused on working with AI. “Kindness should be everyone’s default setting—man or machine.”

Unquestionably, decline in civility and kindness is a problem. Perhaps AI can promote kindness in humans. Or, at the very least, avoid contributing to further decline. But are there risks to humanizing these tools? Are we unintentionally contributing to disconnection and loneliness by passing off bots as substitute humans rather than the tools they are? Not long ago, social media was heralded as a boon to human connection and the sharing of information. While it certainly facilitates those things, we now recognize there are significant risks and potential harm as well.

According to Axios, Meta is developing AI chatbots to serve as “friends” in an effort to address loneliness. "The average American has, I think, it's fewer than three friends," Mark Zuckerberg said on a recent podcast. "And the average person has demand for meaningfully more."

Interesting logic. Assuming Zuckerberg is referring to “Facebook” friends, most Facebook users have more than three friends—far more in most cases—yet loneliness is at an all time high and has increased along with use of social media. It seems virtual friendships may be contributing—if not causing—loneliness. And, more of them will be better?

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Can AI fool our brains?

Beyond concerns about civility, loneliness, and privacy, substituting connection to humans with AI feels out of sync with what we know about ourselves as complex beings. A recent neurological study commissioned by the Mauritshuis Museum in The Hague found that viewing real works of art stimulates the brain 10 times stronger than viewing a reproduction on a poster or screen. If our brains so capably recognize and respond to original art, it stands to reason reproductions of human beings will fall short as well.

In his recent essay, “EI (or EQ) in the age of AI,” Dan Goleman, the man who (literally) wrote the book on emotional intelligence—”Emotional Intelligence: Why It Can Matter More Than IQ”—notes that AI can outperform humans in many tasks and functions, including reading comprehension; recognizing speech, handwriting, and images; common sense reasoning; and generating code and math.

“But the good news for us is we are quite likely to remain better than AI at human skills like emotional intelligence—and that advantage is likely to stay,” he assures. “What AI is not so good at is ‘heart skills’ or ‘durable human skills’—basically human abilities in the emotional intelligence domain. Think of the warmth of a caring relationship; the bulls-eye messaging of a doctor explaining to a particular patient why to take a medicine; a skilled salesperson telling a customer why a certain product fits their needs. Or jobs like nursing or teaching school children, that require trust and caring.”

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Love for humanity

For better or worse, philanthropy—like most industries—is experimenting with and incorporating AI. Given current trends and challenges facing the sector, increasing efficiency, automating functions, and analyzing and using data in new ways is crucial to nonprofit survival and success. New and improved tools are necessary and welcome. It seems incredibly important, however, that we recognize the value of human connection—the foundation on which philanthropy was built—and avoid further damage in an effort to increase efficiency.

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The Donor Bill of Rights*

Philanthropy is based on voluntary action for the common good. It is a tradition of giving and sharing that is primary to the quality of life. To assure that philanthropy merits the respect and trust of the general public, and that donors and prospective donors can have full confidence in the not-for-profit organizations and causes they are asked to support, we declare that all donors have these rights:

I. To be informed of the organization's mission, of the way the organization intends to use donated resources, and of its capacity to use donations effectively for their intended purposes.

II. To be informed of the identity of those serving on the organization's governing board, and to expect the board to exercise prudent judgment in its stewardship responsibilities.

III. To have access to the organization's most recent financial statements.

IV. To be assured their gifts will be used for the purposes for which they were given.

V. To receive appropriate acknowledgement and recognition.

VI. To be assured that information about their donation is handled with respect and with confidentiality to the extent provided by law.

VII. To expect that all relationships with individuals representing organizations of interest to the donor will be professional in nature.

VIII. To be informed whether those seeking donations are volunteers, employees of the organization or hired solicitors.

IX. To have the opportunity for their names to be deleted from mailing lists that an organization may intend to share.

X. To feel free to ask questions when making a donation and to receive prompt, truthful and forthright answers.

“The only essential is this: the gift must always move.” - Lewis Hyde

When you hear the word philanthropist, who comes to mind? MacKenzie Scott? Andrew Carnegie? Bill Gates? Oprah? Do you think of yourself?

Philanthropy is quite simply the transfer and exchange of gifts—money, service, or knowledge—from those who have some to spare to those who do not. Wealth is not required.

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Love for humanity, the core definition of philanthropy, encompasses anything and everything we do to support one another: It is the friend who organizes a fundraiser for a loved one battling cancer; the driver who hands a few dollars to the person at the intersection asking for help; the retiree who, like clockwork, writes a check to their favorite charity every year (or every month or every week); it is the neighbor who sits with the children of a single parent; the parent who volunteers to serve lunch in the cafeteria or coach the baseball team; and, yes, it is wealthy individuals who contribute to causes that benefit others, often many others.

It’s all philanthropy and it’s beautiful. Perhaps it is even why we are here.

I am not suggesting the philanthropy of wealthy individuals doesn’t warrant celebration. Of course it does—large donations have broader impact than smaller and are essential to meet today’s needs. I fear, however, that as society and nonprofit organizations increasingly focus on large donations and the wealthy individuals who (usually) make them, we are doing so at the expense of other philanthropy—missing the forest for the trees, if you will—unintentionally suggesting only the largest donations are important. That simply is not true.

The beauty and truth of philanthropy is that it belongs to us all. Beneficiaries are as necessary to the equation as givers. Each of us is a philanthropist throughout our lives, often giving and receiving simultaneously. (Even the wealthiest benefit from the generosity of others.) This flow of generosity among and between us, this is philanthropy. Let’s celebrate it.

For more than a century, our generosity—and the causes and organizations it supports—has been a cornerstone of American society. Today, it is relied upon by nearly 1.8 million nonprofit organizations that provide food, shelter and social services to those among us in crisis; public spaces, museums, theaters and think tanks to improve our quality of life; medical research and essential health care to improve health and wellbeing; schools, colleges, and universities to educate and expand knowledge; and so much more.

Giving from average Americans, however, is waning. The share of U.S. households donating to charitable causes has declined, from about two-thirds of households in 2008 to less than half in 2018.

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The decline, unfortunately, isn’t limited to dollars: Americans are also volunteering less. According to the U.S. Census Bureau and the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, volunteerism reached a 15-year low in 2015 with 24.9% of Americans volunteering their time. Things improved for some years but the downward trend has since continued. AmeriCorps reports the formal volunteering rate dropped from 30% in 2019 to 23% in 2021, the steepest decline since the agency began collecting data in 2002.

Meanwhile, giving from wealthy Americans remains strong—nine out of ten reported donating to charity within the last year (2024 Bank of America Private Bank Study of Wealthy Americans)—helping to offset losses from average givers. In fact, large donations, usually referred to as major and principal gifts, have surged—once representing one-tenth of all charitable donations, they now represent two-thirds—creating a phenomenon referred to as “top-heavy philanthropy” or “donors down, dollars up.” Unfortunately, the latter is no longer accurate: the total value of U.S. giving dropped 2.1% in 2023 (adjusted for inflation).

Historically utilized primarily to fund capital projects—new initiatives, expanding programs, building or renovating facilities, etc.—today, these large gifts are increasingly funding day-to-day operations. As Gara LaMarche shared with Inside Philanthropy recently, “a number of groups were lucky to get one-time substantial, unsolicited, flexible support from MacKenzie Scott. Not all deployed those windfalls toward sustainability, and some are facing a ‘fiscal cliff’ for having used the funds to plug holes in current budgets.”

Regardless of their size, most nonprofits today receive the majority of their financial support from a small number of donors and are thus at significant risk should those donors shift their giving priorities or practices. This also means a relatively tiny group has increasingly outsized influence on nonprofit priorities and missions.

Why this is happening is not entirely clear, although there are obvious contributors including increased economic uncertainty and inflation, tax law changes, decline in religious affiliation, impact of the COVID-19 pandemic, declining trust in institutions (including nonprofits), shifting priorities and practices of younger generations, and increasing focus on mega-gifts within the nonprofit sector. We’ll explore causes of this trend—as well as dig deeper into its implications—in future posts. In the meantime, I welcome your questions and thoughts.

Sources:

• Coolest Gadgets

• Inequality.org

• Inside Philanthropy

• National Philanthropic Trust

• Philanthropy Panel Study

• Philanthropy Roundtable

• The Generosity Commission

“All the other pleasures of life seem to wear out, but the pleasure of helping others in distress never does.”

— Julius Rosenwald

While today’s philanthropy includes many generous individuals and foundations who give with humility, others center themselves in their giving seemingly to benefit their own ego, status or standing. As Gara LaMarche recently noted while exploring lack of collaboration among funders in Inside Philanthropy, a publication for nonprofits and grantseekers, “‘Not invented here syndrome’ is endemic among foundations, whose leadership and trustees often opt to embrace differentiation while paying lip service to collaboration.”

Less well known than other philanthropists from history, Julius Rosenwald’s impact was important and transformative—his humility contributing to both.

Born in Springfield, Illinois to German Jewish immigrant parents in 1862, Mr. Rosenwald amassed his fortune leading and growing Sears, Roebuck and Company. He founded the Rosenwald Fund, a family foundation dedicated to “the well-being of mankind,” and donated more than $60 million (approximately $1 billion in today’s dollars) to public schools, colleges and universities, museums, Jewish causes, and African American institutions.

During segregation, schools for African Americans were chronically underfunded meaning children received substandard educations or none at all. Guided by Mr. Rosewald’s goal of a school for African American children in every Southern county, Rosenwald schools are among the Rosenwald Fund’s—and perhaps America’s—greatest philanthropic successes.

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In partnership with Booker T. Washington, designed by architects of Tuskegee University, and with financial support from communities and school districts, the Rosenwald Fund built approximately 5,000 schools across the South. (According to Oliver Zunz in Philanthropy in America, 5,357 of them in 15 states. Another source, A Better Life for Their Children by Andrew Feiler, puts the number at 4,978.) At the time, 40% of all Black children, more than 600,000, attended a Rosenwald school, many going on to college and earning higher degrees.

It is difficult, perhaps impossible, to know what is best for another without truly understanding their experience and perspective. Still, today as in the past, those with the power of position or wealth sometimes take on issues minus perspective and involvement from those most impacted.

Not so Julius Rosenwald. In his requirement of school board ownership and maintenance, community provision of labor, land, and/or the cost of bricks and lumber—a concept known as challenge or matching grants—Mr. Rosenwald effectively ensured each school included the perspective of those it served. A seat at the table if you will.

Mr. Rosenwald had previously implemented challenge matches in the construction of YMCAs for African Americans. In 1911 he offered $25,000 to cities in which the communities would provide a $75,000 matching share; together those communities and Mr. Rosenwald built African American YMCAs in 24 cities. (YMCA initially approached Mr. Rosenwald in 1910 with a request to fund a single YMCA (for whites) in Chicago. Mr. Rosenwald’s response? “I won’t give a cent to this $350,000 fund unless you will include in it the building of a Colored Men’s YMCA.” They agreed and the Wabash YMCA was built in 1913. The rest, as they say, is history.)

Mr. Rosenwald rejected the still common philanthropic practice of naming buildings and projects for himself. While the schools the Rosenwald Fund built are often referred to as Rosenwald schools today, they were not while operating. It was important to Mr. Rosenwald that the schools belong to the communities and be named accordingly.

Well known during his lifetime, Mr. Rosenwald’s philanthropy is less so today. Unlike foundations created by other philanthropists of his era—endowed and thus designed to fund themselves in perpetuity (a practice that continues and is debated to this day)—the Rosenwald Fund was intended to sunset within 25 years after Mr. Rosenwald’s death. The Rosenwald Fund was fully spent by 1948—honoring his “give while you live” approach.

Learn more: “A Better Life for Their Children: Julius Rosenwald, Booker T. Washington, and the 4,978 Schools that Changed America” is on view at the Dallas Holocaust and Human Rights Museum until August 17, 2025.

Get involved: Inspired by the 2015 documentary “Rosenwald” by filmmaker Aviva Kempner, representatives of the National Parks Conservation Association and the National Trust established the Rosenwald Park Campaign, a 501(c)(3) non-profit organization. The Campaign envisions a National Historical Park comprising a state-of-the-art visitor center in Chicago that would interpret Rosenwald’s overall legacy and a small number of Rosenwald Schools throughout the south complemented by a Network of Rosenwald Schools.

Fun fact: Mr. Rosenwald was born one block away from the Lincoln family home while Abraham Lincoln was President. The Rosenwald family later moved directly across from the Lincoln home (into a home built by Alexander Graham Bell) and today both homes are part of the Lincoln Home National Historic Site.

There hasn’t been a lot of joy in the nonprofit sector of late. The news has not been good. Already facing declines in giving, recent events have laid bare the tenuous nature of funding sources once believed relatively stable.

Funding ebbs and flows are expected; complete dismantling of long-standing systems of support were not. Some nonprofits are scrambling to maintain needed, in some cases life-saving, programs and services while others fear their support will shift. Nonprofit professionals, most of whom have willingly accepted less pay and fewer benefits than their counterparts in the for-profit sector, are faced not only with even fewer resources but with very real fear of losing their jobs and livelihoods.

As one of those professionals, joy has felt elusive and calls for it hollow. Where is the joy in suffering? How can I experience joy when the lives of others—and, perhaps soon, my own—are crumbling? How can there be joy when well-being is threatened, success feels elusive, good fortune dries up, and the prospect of possessing what one desires feels unattainable?

Stepping into the lush, beautiful, flower-filled End With Red Gala surrounded by loving, generous people in vibrant jewel tones Saturday evening, the last thing I expected to experience was joy. Solidarity, absolutely. Hope, yes. Community, for sure. But joy? Joy was a soulful, energetic surprise.

We came together to support Black women and girls living with HIV. The Afiya Center is a Dallas-based nonprofit established and led by Black women in response to disparities between HIV incidences worldwide and in Texas. These women, most of whom know heartbreak and hardship better than many, not only demonstrated and shared their joy, they taught me something I had missed:

Joy is not something that can wait until better times. Nor is it merely a distraction from struggle. Joy is power. A force. An antidote to struggle and strife, joy must be created—together.

I have no idea how much was donated at the gala or whether they met their $100,000 fundraising goal. The ever dutiful fundraiser, I found myself making mental notes early in the evening: how they might have raised more, strengthened their “ask,” or incorporated more opportunities to donate. My pragmatic thinking missed the point: love for humanity—the root and foundation of philanthropy—doesn’t exist without joy.

After all, resilience minus joy is only survival. We all deserve more.

The Afiya Center is transforming the lives, health, and overall well-being of Black women and girls by providing refuge, education, and resources. They act to ignite the communal voices of Black women resulting in their full achievement of reproductive freedom.

Donations big and small are radical acts of care for our community. Your gift supports The Afiya Center’s mission to transform the lives, health, and overall wellbeing of Black womxn and girls. As the only Black womxn founded and directed Reproductive Justice organization in North Texas, we will never stop showing up for our community. Your generous support helps us sustain and expand to meet the needs of Black womxn and girls. Please make a gift to support The Afiya Center today.

Love shouldn’t hurt.

National Domestic Violence Hotline - The National Domestic Violence Hotline answers the call to support and shift power back to those affected by relationship abuse.

Prevent Child Abuse America - Prevent Child Abuse America is the nation’s oldest and largest organization committed to preventing child abuse and neglect before it happens. ​We promote programs and resources informed by science that enable kids, families, and entire communities to thrive—today, tomorrow, and for generations to come.

Futures Without Violence - For more than 35 years, Futures Without Violence has been passionately dedicated to ending all forms of violence against women, children and all people around the world.

National Coalition Against Domestic Violence - The National Coalition Against Domestic Violence (NCADV)'s mission is to lead, mobilize and raise our voices to support efforts that demand a change of conditions that lead to domestic violence such as patriarchy, privilege, racism, sexism, and classism. We are dedicated to supporting survivors and holding offenders accountable and supporting advocates.

FaithTrust Institute - FaithTrust Institute provides religious leaders and community advocates with the tools and knowledge they need to address the religious and cultural issues related to abuse.

Battered Women’s Justice Project -BWJP is the national legal resource for gender-based violence, providing some of the nation’s leading specialized policy and practice initiatives on improving survivor safety.