By Hanna Stubblefield-Tave, arts administrator in philanthropy
Note: My ideas do not represent any organization I may be affiliated with.
Content warning: This essay contains specifics of the genocide happening in Palestine. Some links contained within go to graphic content. Please proceed with caution.
…my experiences in philanthropy have taught me that we, as funders, have tangible resources and real power. That is why I have such high expectations for our sector’s response to Palestine, and why it can feel so wrong when I sometimes observe silence more than solidarity.
As June Jordan said in 1991, what we are willing to do for Palestinians is a “litmus test for morality.”
Over the last year, I have learned a lot about Palestine, myself, and working in philanthropy. To be honest, I can’t remember what I knew about Palestine before 2023. It wasn’t much at all.
Growing up in a suburb of Boston with a large Jewish population, and with a Jewish grandfather, I passively accepted that Israel was an idyllic Jewish homeland. The ‘Birthright’ narrative was so strong that I never questioned how the state was formed or what that meant for Palestine. I didn’t know about the Nakba of 1948, in which hundreds of thousands of Palestinians were forced to become refugees so that Jews fleeing persecution of their own could find refuge.
Journalists like Wael Al Dahdouh, Motaz Azaiza, and Bisan have shown me what life is like on the ground in Gaza and the West Bank. And now, I find myself inspired to stand up, speak out, and march in the streets for the first time in my life.
I read the names of more than 10,000 Palestinian children who were killed by the Israel ‘Defense’ Forces, and I am called to stand up.
I witness the conditions at Palestinian hospitals decimated by Israel and I hear of bombings at United Nations schools, and I am called to speak out.
I see human beings buried in the rubble and burned alive as if their lives had no value at all; I see parents digging for their children, and I am called to march.
Earlier this year, I confessed to a white colleague that I didn’t go to the Black Lives Matter protests of 2020 or Women’s March in 2017. (I say she was white because this made my confession much easier.) We were talking about how it felt to be confronted by a huge NYPD presence at recent actions for Palestine. For me, it was my first time being so close to the “frontlines” with the police. For her, she had been through this dozens of times over the last several years.
During the 2020 COVID shutdown in New York, I was too scared and too exhausted to join crowded rallies. I was glad to see white allies stepping up, and I was comfortable staying back. I found meaning in my work at a Black arts organization, and that was enough for me.
In 2020, I personally didn’t know anyone who disagreed with the idea that Black Lives Matter. But now, there are people in my personal and professional life who disagree with the idea of Palestinian liberation. So now, I need to be LOUD!
At work, I am surrounded by colleagues who have tremendous knowledge about social justice, human rights, our world’s history of imperialism, and the present-day ramifications evident in modern colonialism. I am fortunate to witness nuanced conversations about complex issues every week. Moreover, my experiences in philanthropy have taught me that we, as funders, have tangible resources and real power. That is why I have such high expectations for our sector’s response to Palestine, and why it can feel so wrong when I sometimes observe silence more than solidarity.
So, let’s discuss how you can be in solidarity, talk about Palestine in the workplace, and mobilize resources to support Palestinians, step by step:
1. Check your values.
If you’re reading this, you probably value racial and gender justice. Maybe you’re on a learning journey with disability justice or understanding your own complicity in economic injustice.
You not only value social justice, it’s at the core of who you are both personally and professionally. You’re fighting the good fight for a better world where we can all be free. Right?
How do your personal values align with those of the institution you work within?
2. Assess your risk tolerance (and privilege).
As I write this, I’m balancing my social justice values with my innate risk aversion, need for approval, and desire for a comfortable, stable life.
Can I afford to risk my income and healthcare benefits? Not everyone can, and that’s okay. I don’t have family wealth to fall back on, but I also don’t have a family to take care of, and that’s a privilege.
I’m deciding I have a strong support system, and it’s worth the risk.
3. Find your people.
Depending on the size of your organization, you might see one or two coworkers at a local protest. Maybe a few people wear a keffiyeh to work or pin a small watermelon on their bag.
We know we can’t do this work alone, and finding the people you are most closely aligned with first will allow you to have conversations with colleagues with various perspectives on Palestine.
4. Do your homework.
What has your organization said and done about Palestine in the last 76 years and since October 7, 2023? Did they release a statement? Did they move resources for humanitarian aid or otherwise? Did they remind you of any organizational policies and practices or even create new ones?
What has your leadership said internally and externally? Do they call it a conflict in the Middle East, a crisis, war, or genocide? Do they call it complicated? Do they talk about peace or justice? Do they say the word Palestine?
What has your organization said and done about Ukraine and other wars? How about apartheid in South Africa? Do they frequently quote Nelson Mandela? Maybe they call upon James Baldwin – who loudly criticized Israel for its treatment of Palestinians after he visited the region in 1961 – in other contexts like LGBTQIA Pride Month.
Understanding your institution’s position on Palestine and other issues will help you organize more effectively.
5. Follow the money. Where is it coming from, and where is it going?
Do you have donors? Do you have an endowment, and how is it invested? Who are your board members, grantee partners, and vendors? If you’re not sure whether your organization has direct ties with Israeli companies or public institutions, ask the question.
“The things that I consider problematic for philanthropy are not the grants, but how we invest the billions in our investment portfolios. In our case, as we reflected on our own behaviors, we learned some startling things about ourselves. On the one hand, we want to reform the criminal-justice system and reduce the expansion of for-profit prisons. And in our investments, we were investing in the prison system; how does one reconcile that? How does one reconcile being a public-health foundation, seeking to improve the health of people in low-income communities, and then be a significant investor in the largest polluter in those communities? These are the paradoxes that I believe are the most challenging: how do we do our best to ensure that we’re not doing harm with the money we’re investing?” – Darren Walker, TIME Magazine
6. Know your audience and figure out your messaging.
Most people working in philanthropy would say they support human dignity for all – at least, I hope so – but one of the most important lessons I’ve learned in my few years working in this sector is that strategic priorities matter. So, what are your organization’s stated values and grantmaking priorities, and how do they align with Palestine, either in terms of humanitarian aid or the fight for justice and liberation?
The Palestinian Feminist Collective’s Freedom Within Reach toolkit includes examples for those who work in immigration, education, tech, faith communities, the food industry or food justice, democracy, DEI, legal, medicine or public health, workers’ rights, and arts and culture. Speak from your personal experience and facts, craft your message with clarity, and say the word Palestine.
7. Don’t limit yourself to one avenue.
You can have one-on-one conversations with colleagues you may disagree with and collect signatures for an open letter to the president or CEO. You can have both productive water cooler conversations and after-hours venting sessions. You can work to shift company culture in the long term while also pushing for short-term changes now.
The genocide in Palestine is an urgent issue, and also Palestinian liberation will continue to be an important issue for years to come. Remember discretionary and matching funds if these are available to you.
8. Center Palestinians on the ground and in your community.
Fighting against any kind of systemic oppression requires us to recognize that the most impacted people – the oppressed – know what they need. They have the solutions, and it’s up to us to listen and support.
We often get this wrong in philanthropy, especially when we, as funders, do not belong to the communities we aim to serve.
If you are not part of the MENA/SWANA community, be careful not to center yourself. Do you have Palestinian colleagues whose lead you can follow? This does not mean you should remain silent, but it could mean taking a step back at times.
Follow and amplify Palestinian activists on social media. Find local Palestinian leaders and community-based organizations in your own region. In making decisions, ask yourself: what impact does this have on Palestinians, either right now or in the future?
9. Take care of yourself (to take care of others).
It’s easy to get burnt out. Philanthropy can move slowly; sometimes it feels like fighting for change isn’t worth the struggle.
Personally, I feel helpless as I scroll through Instagram, watching a genocide that my own elected officials and tax dollars have made possible.
Nevertheless, Palestinian human rights are too important for us to lose hope and walk away. Take care of yourself so that you can keep fighting for years to come – and so that impacted community members don’t need to do the emotional labor of caring for you.
10. Focus your energy where you have impact, both at work and outside of work.
Within your organization, consider who might be aligned with Palestine and how much power they hold. Who do you trust? Who would be open to a conversation? Who might be moved? What can they do?
If your time is being wasted, move on. Don’t give up. Focus. If your energy is better spent outside your organization, find a protest near you, and keep building your community.
Most importantly, however you can, start today. We all need to speak up about Palestine to counteract the narrative that Palestinian lives do not matter. Hala Alyan, a Palestinian-American poet, psychologist, and professor, warns us of the cost of dehumanizing Palestinians. As the world watches injustice on such a massive scale, too many have justified doing nothing to stop it: “They’ve seen the names written on limbs. They’ve seen the hospitals be evacuated. They’ve seen the infants left behind – that many have seen it and have deemed it to be an acceptable cost.” Let’s speak up, take action together, and move resources towards a free Palestine within our lifetime.
Hanna Stubblefield-Tave
Hanna Stubblefield-Tave (she/her) is a mixed-race Black woman who is interested in applying an intersectional racial equity lens to support artists and the organizations that advance them. She is grateful to have dance in her life, a snuggly cat at home, and a tattoo that reminds her daily of sankofa. Connect with her on Instagram @hannadance94. Consider donating to @ibrahimforgaza mutual aid in Gaza @essssraaa on Venmo or PayPal, and to Queer Mutual Aid Lebanon @QMALebanon on PayPal.
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As we’ve asked in the past, we ask that white folks investigate how they are showing up, especially when it comes to how they are showing up in their communications with Women of Color.
We ask that you investigate what you’re trying to get from the exchange. If you want to be centered but don’t want to recognize the other person’s humanity, or if you aren’t in true community and only reach out when you need someone to be a punching bag, what are you going to get out the exchange? What are they? Are you emotionally regulated enough to recognize this person’s humanity and treat them with dignity? Is this multiply marginalized person of color the actual target of your anger and frustration, or someone you’re projecting your hurt onto because it’s safe and easy to do so?
We ask that you investigate if you are showing up in a way that builds community and psychologically safe for the other person and yourself. A psychologically safe environment would be one where we are given grace to make mistakes and learn, are valued for our contributions, our lived experiences are respected, we’re able to ask questions, and we can point out harm and have it acknowledged when it happens. In my experience, these ways of being are assumed for the party weaponizing their hurt and failing to regulate emotionally, but not for the one receiving all this added emotional labor and, indeed, abuse.
We can have difficult conversations and differences of opinion (and should) in this space, but only if people with relative privilege can come to the table emotionally regulated (rather than weaponizing their feelings) and with the relational responsibility that comes with acknowledging there is a real-life human being on the other end receiving that feedback.