Rev. Dr. F. Willis Johnson, Jr., VP of Partnerships and Programming with the Bridge Alliance, is respected for his leadership and strategies around social and racial justice issues.
Johnson shares his thoughts and reflections on Indigenous Peoples' Day.
Black Lives Matter protesters march in New York.
Agbo is the CEO of the Kataly Foundation and the managing director of the foundation’s Restorative Economies Fund.
It’s another election year. Another year when the stakes are sky high and the promise of our democracy is in peril. Another year when people — primarily people of color — are asked to put aside differences and come together to save our country.
What is the responsibility of philanthropy in yet another moment of political uncertainty?
I have read perspectives from philanthropy leaders offering hopes for a commitment to pluralism, unity, and bridge-building. Polarization and divisiveness are presented as twin plagues threatening our democracy. But this analysis is fundamentally flawed. Polarization and divisiveness are symptoms of the problem, not the problems themselves. Until we address the root causes of the injustices that sow division, any sense of unity is inauthentic and disproportionately taxes those most proximate to the harm.
To preserve democracy, we must first acknowledge that the promise of American democracy has yet to be fully realized, in large part due to the vestiges of slavery in our political systems. Recognizing that truth, we can meaningfully grapple with the role that philanthropy can play in sustaining democracy. Most importantly, we can stand on the side of justice, eschew the convenience of neutrality, and provide long-term, at-scale support for social movements.
Sign up for The Fulcrum newsletter
When we consider how to protect and preserve democracy, we must remember that the democracy as designed at the country’s founding exclusively served the interests of wealthy white landowners. As journalist Nikole Hannah-Jones, creator of the 1619 Project, reminds us, “Black people have been the great perfectors of the American democracy.”
In short, it’s only through the resistance and struggles of social movements, particularly underpinned by the political organizing and analysis of Black people, that voting rights full citizenship were extended to white women through the 19th Amendment in 1920 and to Black people through the civil rights movement and enactment of the 14th and 15th amendments.
Our democracy still moves sluggishly through the dregs of slavery thanks to the Electoral College, a system designed to protect the influence of white slave owners. This legacy is made more foul through constant attacks on voting rights and voter suppression, which are particularly aimed at voters of color. These assaults on fundamental rights illustrate how we continue to struggle toward the realization of a more perfect, multiracial democracy.
Those who seek the full realization of our democracy strive only for the narratives and promises made to all Americans. As history shows, progress is achieved by constantly demanding greater inclusion and equity. Social advancements aren’t handed out to people standing in line, patiently waiting their turn.
Many of the narratives about advances in our democracy are retold as though benevolent white men generously shared their rights and wealth with others. In fact, we know that it has always been through the organized struggles led by social movements composed of Black and Indigenous people, people of color, poor and working-class people, and transgender and gender non-conforming people that we can boast progress, even if we lag far behind other nations.
President Abraham Lincoln did not willingly free the enslaved people of the South, and President Lyndon Johnson did not dream up and pass the civil rights legislation of the 1960s on his own. The 40-hour work week was not a manifestation of corporate benevolence. These achievements were realized only through many years and sometimes decades of struggle, resilience, and the audacity to demand dignity, respect, and rights. The few times we’ve seen those in power proactively enact legislation or initiatives that have helped to make positive economic and social advancements for society have been initiatives like the GI Bill, which targeted investments and centered participation for white men while excluding Black men from the very same programs.
By demonizing resistance and minimizing it as divisive, we place the burden to take the high road on the most disadvantaged. From the policy decisions to daily microaggressions of those in power, it is clear that they have no intention to collaborate and no interest in negotiating. The responsibility to “go high” must be placed on those who have the most resources, information, and support to go more than halfway to meet and understand those who demand care and equal treatment under the law.
Desmond Tutu once wisely said: “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.” Philanthropy cannot pretend that we are not aware of the deep systemic injustices baked into the American democratic project. Once we acknowledge those injustices, claiming false equivalencies or taking a “both sides” point of view demonstrates an unwillingness to stand firmly on the side of justice for fear of disrupting the status quo.
And yet we must have compassion for leaders in philanthropy who do this, because they are trained to believe that they must hold onto their proximity to power in order to stay relevant, safe, and secure in their positions. So rather than plant their foot on one side of the debate, they toe the line between two perspectives so that they can appear palatable to either side and teeter back and forth between whichever side is most convenient on any issue at any moment.
Given our power and influence — particularly when the name “philanthropy” translates to “love of humanity” — we cannot choose neutrality. That would suggest we are satisfied with our democracy and country as they are, unwilling to strive for a more perfect union. It would mean we accept the status quo, which benefits white, male, wealthy individuals at the exclusion of everyone else.
Often, philanthropy hedges bets by investing in both sides of an issue: We fund the work of prison abolitionists while investing in private prisons. We support climate and environmental justice work while holding stock in fossil-fuel companies. This allows us to feel good about our charitable work without confronting the realities of what it truly means to stand for justice and the love for humanity.
The question becomes: If we choose to stand on the side of justice, what is the responsibility of philanthropy to protect democracy? Our role must be to support organizers and social movements that champion a long arc vision of a truly inclusive, multiracial democracy. We must sustain the organizations that pursue civic engagement work, particularly outside election seasons, when many politicians forget the platitudes they made to poor and working-class communities in exchange for votes.
Intersectionality, a term and idea coined by Kimberle Crenshaw, helps us understand that to fully participate in a multiracial democracy, you must have your needs met at the crossroads of your identity and day-to-day experiences. This means that who we are, where we live, and how we live, all impact our safety and security, which ultimately shapes our ability to participate in democracy. Economic stressors that require people to work multiple jobs limit their opportunity to vote. Individuals, families, and communities under economic duress, facing daily threats to their safety due to criminalization of poverty, race, gender, religion, or any other identifying characteristics might even regard the act of voting or the election system itself as irrelevant to their daily needs.
For this reason, philanthropy also has a responsibility to fund initiatives that address the economic needs of Black and Indigenous people, all people of color, and poor and working-class communities. A strong economic foundation, including a resilient social safety net, can provide individuals with the confidence and stability to think beyond their immediate needs and to consider participating in the democratic project.
Democracy, obviously, is not just about casting a vote. It’s about engaging in the community every day, having time to spend with family and friends, and the space to get to know neighbors, patronize local businesses, participate in city council meetings, volunteer on commissions or at schools, etc. It is important for philanthropy to recognize that all these routine actions, big and small, contribute to someone’s sense of belonging and a productive democracy.
It’s critical that philanthropy provide generational, multi-year general operating support. Such support is what gives a movement-building organization the financial flexibility to meet the unanticipated daily needs of its membership and community and experiment with how to expand civic engagement and democratic participation. Philanthropy’s heavy-handed restricted funding fails to recognize that people live not in silos but lead whole and integrated lives.
Following the Fearless Fund ruling that a grant program for Black women business owners is discriminatory, the responsibility of philanthropy is to demonstrate that we will not operate from a place of fear, and we will not waver in our support for racial justice. Philanthropy has the moral responsibility to use our voice, power, and resources to support those committed to the ever-enduring struggle of a more just world, a fair and equitable democracy, and most importantly the right for everyone to be able to participate in the great multiracial democratic experiment that is the United States of America.
This writing was originally published in The Commons, a project of the Chronicle of Philanthropy.
Fannie Lou Hamer testifies at the Democratic National Convention in 1964.
Johnson is a United Methodist pastor, the author of "Holding Up Your Corner: Talking About Race in Your Community" and program director for the Bridge Alliance, which houses The Fulcrum.
Sixty years have passed since Freedom Summer, that pivotal season of 1964 when hundreds of young activists descended upon an unforgiving landscape, driven by a fierce determination to shatter the chains of racial oppression. As our nation teeters on the precipice of another transformative moment, the echoes of that fateful summer reverberate across the years, reminding us that freedom remains an unfinished work.
At the heart of this struggle stood Fannie Lou Hamer, a sharecropper's daughter whose voice thundered like a prophet's in the wilderness, signaling injustice. Her story is one of unyielding defiance, of a spirit that the brutal lash of bigotry could not break. When Hamer testified before the Democratic National Convention in 1964, her words, laced with the pain of beatings and the fire of righteous indignation, laid bare the festering wound of racial terror that had long plagued our nation. Her resilience in the face of such adversity is a testament to the power of the human spirit.
"I question America," she declared, her voice trembling yet resolute. "Is this the land of the free and the home of the brave?" In that moment, Fannie Lou Hamer embodied the essence of prophetic witness. She stood as a living testament to the moral bankruptcy of a system that had devalued Black lives for centuries. Her unwavering commitment to justice, rooted in an unshakeable faith, illuminated the stark chasm between America's professed ideals and its sullied reality.
Sign up for The Fulcrum newsletter
Yet even as we acknowledge Hamer's legacy, we must also recognize our progress. The Freedom Summer of 1964 did not usher in a racial utopia, but it did shine a light on the deep-seated intransigence of white supremacy. The disenfranchisement that fueled the movement then continues to plague us, but we've also seen significant strides toward equality. As we face voter suppression tactics, both overt and insidious, we can take heart in the fact that we've overcome similar challenges in the past. This progress should give us hope for the future.
As the 2024 presidential campaign progresses this summer, the specter of Freedom Summer looms large. The American populace stands at a crossroads like our forebears 60 years ago. Will we heed the clarion call of prophetic witness exemplified by Hamer, embracing a vision of accurate equity and participatory democracy? Or shall we succumb to the forces of reaction, allowing the hard-won gains of the past to wither on the vine of complacency?
Much like it was in 1964, the answer lies not with our elected leaders but with each of us. In that pivotal year, the struggle for civil rights reached a boiling point, and the collective action of ordinary people brought about transformative change. We, the descendants of those freedom fighters, must reclaim the mantle of prophetic witness. Our ancestors marched, protested and sacrificed to pursue equality and justice. Now, it's our turn to carry the torch forward.
We must organize, mobilize and demand a society where every voice is heard and every vote is counted. This requires more than just passive agreement — it demands active engagement. We must educate ourselves, raise awareness, and use our unique skills and platforms to push for progress. It's not enough to remember the past; we must actively participate in shaping the future. By learning from history and applying those lessons to our current struggles, we can create a more equitable world for all. Our active engagement is crucial in this journey.
The Freedom Summer movement was never intended to be confined to a single season; instead, it was a powerful expression of the ongoing struggle for racial equality and justice in America. Its actual anniversary is not marked by a specific date on the calendar but by the relentless pursuit of freedom and fairness that continues to this day.
As we reflect on the sacrifices and triumphs of that pivotal summer, we draw strength from the wellspring of Fannie Lou Hamer's unyielding spirit, her voice echoing through the ages, refusing to be silenced. We are reminded that freedom is not a destination, but a journey — an arduous path that demands our constant vigilance and unwavering commitment. The struggle for true equality is far from over, and it is our duty to carry the torch lit by those brave souls who came before us. This struggle is ongoing, and it is our collective responsibility to ensure that the fight for racial equality and justice in America continues.
In this summer of 2024, as the ghosts of our past converge with the possibilities of our future, I hope we all commit effort towards engagement in the unfinished business of Freedom Summer. The road ahead takes work. We will face resistance, setbacks, and moments of doubt. However, only by acknowledging these challenges and committing to overcome them can we expect to build a nation where every citizen, irrespective of skin color, can genuinely call themselves free. The struggle continues. The witness endures. Freedom's unfinished business awaits our answer.
Nelson is a retired attorney and served as an associate justice of the Montana Supreme Court from 1993 through 2012.
In 2023, the Montana State Legislature passed a bill, signed into law by the governor, that defined sex and sexuality as being either, and only, male or female. It defined “sex” in the following manner: “In human beings, there are exactly two sexes, male and female with two corresponding gametes.” The law listed some 41 sections of the Montana Code that need to be revised based on this definition.
While the bill’s direct impact was limited to just Montana, it has far reaching implications for the nation as other states are debating similar legislation.
The constitutionality of SB 458 was, not surprisingly, challenged. Missoula District Judge Shane Vanatta held that the law was unconstitutional because its subject wasn’t clear in its title as required by Montana’s Constitution.I don’t quarrel with the court’s decision; it was narrow, measured and the sort of decision that “non-activist” courts are required to, and do, make under the controlling facts and law.
Unfortunately, however, I doubt that this will be the last we hear of this matter. A similar bill will likely resurface in a new legislative session, albeit with a different title.
Sign up for The Fulcrum newsletter
Regardless of what they call the bill, the underlying problem is one of legislators willfully choosing to ignore science, and, instead, intentionally legislating on the basis of what they perceive to be Biblical doctrine and on white Christian Nationalism — as promoted by far right conservatives and the various national organizations (e.g., the American Legislative Exchange Council, the Heritage Foundation,the Federalist Society and the Alliance Defending Freedom, to name a few) that drive former President Donald Trump’s perverted value system.
In truth, by attempting to define sex and sexuality to include only sperm and egg producers, SB 458 was nothing other than a disingenuous attempt to put a legal gloss on the exact sort of discrimination that Montana’s Constitution specifically prohibits.
Article II, section 4 states:
The dignity of the human being is inviolable. ... Neither the state nor any person, firm, corporation or institution shall discriminate against any person in the exercise of his civil or political rights on account of .. .sex.
Bottom line: Discrimination based on sex is absolutely prohibited as a matter of constitutional law, and it cannot be legalized by adopting a scientifically flawed, religiously grounded statute, no matter how the title finesses it.
While the bill’s language follows Genesis 1:27, the definition is scientifically inaccurate. And, passing a statute saying otherwise doesn’t make it any less false — it’s like passing a law that says the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. It just doesn’t.
The bill defined “females” on the basis that that sex produces large, immobile eggs and “males” on the basis that that sex produces small, mobile sperm. Both definitions use the qualifier “under normal development” — which apparently disqualifies a person from being either female or male if their development is not normal or, otherwise, for whatever reason, a person who does not produce eggs or sperm. In other words, a goodly number of the members of the human race.
The Bible and the Legislature’s denial of science notwithstanding, human beings cannot be categorized into “exactly two sexes,” male or female, as the bill decreed.
Medicine and science recognize a third category of human beings under the general classification of “intersex.” An intersex human being is a person born with a combination of male and female biological traits. These individuals are born with any of several sex characteristics including chromosome patterns, gonads, reproductive or sexual anatomy or genitals that do not fit typical definitions of male and female — much less the ones in SB 458. There may be a discrepancy between internal genitals and external genitals. There exist at least 30 different intersex variations, each with its own name and description. Word limitations prevent going into these in any detail, but internet research is easy.
The causes of intersex conditions may be hormonal or chromosomal, but the important point to be noted is that intersex individuals are hardwired to be that way; that’s just the way they were born, the Bible and willful legislative ignorance to the contrary notwithstanding.
Intersex individuals simply do not fit within the black and white Biblical definitions adopted by SB 458. And the same can be said for those individuals who suffer from a condition recognized in medicine and science as gender dysphoria — i.e. the transgender folks the Legislature demonizes and loves to hate.
If one is neither male nor female according to SB 458, then that person is not included in the definition of sex. That person is an outlier, a social outcast, not even, apparently, considered a human being. And, therefore, it follows, that person is a legitimate target for legalized discrimination, demonization and hatred; the sort of scapegoat which is a hallmark of fascism.
SB 458 did not pass Constitutional muster this time. And it won’t if it comes around a second time, no matter what the Legislature calls it.
You can put lipstick on a pig, but it still walks like a pig, looks like a pig and stinks.
Juste is a researcher at the Movement Advancement Project and author of the report “Freedom Under Fire: The Far Right's Battle to Control America.”
“Besides,
They’ll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed—
I, too, am America.”
— Langston Hughes, I Too
On the Fourth of July we celebrated many things: our nation’s independence, our democracy and the opportunity to gather with loved ones who, ideally, embrace us for who we are. Yet, this same nation does not always make room for us to live freely for who we are, who we love, what we look like and how we pray. And it is this dissonance that renders the Fourth of July’s celebration a bittersweet reminder of a dream deferred for many of us.
In this unprecedented time when our fundamental rights and democracy itself are under threat, I reflect on why, as a queer Black woman and proud child of immigrants, I found myself feeling more anxious than celebratory over the holiday and, crucially, what I am going to do about it.
Of course, it is logical that people whose ancestors have been disenfranchised since day one would experience a bit of internal conflict on a day dedicated to celebrating freedom. How are we to commemorate one of the greatest political experiments ever tried while knowing its goal was only to secure freedoms for a privileged few?
Sign up for The Fulcrum newsletter
So many have been kept at arms’ length from the country’s power, wealth and benefits: Indigenous nations were forcibly subsumed into a hostile and stolen America; African Americans were initially denied freedom and opportunities for prosperity, equality and full civic participation after the Civil War; women were denied the right to vote and their bodily autonomy; immigrants face dehumanization while often being forced to take more dangerous or menial jobs; nonbelievers and practitioners of faiths other than Christianity have been stigmatized, excluded, and even attacked; queer people have often been relegated to the margins of society and at times confronted with unspeakable violence and inequality; and today, transgender people are being forced to sit at the epicenter of an outrageous fear-mongering campaign led by the far right.
The list of this nation’s sins is long and too many have been denied the equal protection of our laws. It is a story as old as America itself.
Many of these historical injustices persist, though in new, sometimes more discrete forms. The far right has steadfastly pursued policies to ensure that so many of us remain socially, politically and economically marginalized. Yet I fear many have grown complacent.
We have won victories for freedom and inclusion. But students of history know that there always comes a backlash. We are now living amidst a backlash to progress, and it is transforming the policy landscape for the worse. For example, nine states have passed laws allowing legislatures to seize power over the administration of elections since false claims of voter fraud ran rampant after the 2020 presidential contest; 14 states have enacted total bans on abortion, with an additional seven states banning abortion within a range of sixto 18 weeks of pregnancy (i.e. before many people are even aware that they are pregnant); and 24 states have passed bans on best practice medical care for transgender youth, with six going so far as to make it a felony to provide care. These and so many other recent policy changes limit Americans’ freedoms, offering yet more reminders of why it is often difficult to bask uncritically in Fourth of July celebrations.
In a nation that supposedly places freedom on the highest pedestal, freedom only for some is not really liberty, but instead a charade thinly masking that freedom is no more than a fickle privilege, begrudgingly given and easily taken away. And make no mistake, our freedoms are under fire. Today they may be mine and the freedoms of others like me, but tomorrow they may very well be yours. From restricting access to life-saving health care to banning books, censoring historically accurate education and creating multiple insidious barriers to the ballot box, these attacks on our freedoms are both implicitly connected and part of an explicitly coordinated effort to enact strict control over American life.
Still, I consider myself a patriot. Despite the myriad ways it has at times failed me and so many others, I love my country. The word “patriot” has been co-opted by those working in coordination to erode civil rights protections for women, people of color, LGBTQ people, immigrants and more. These individuals would have you believe that refusing to uphold a hierarchy with white, straight, cisgender, Christian and natural born citizens at the top is unpatriotic by definition. Their definition would certainly exclude me, and perhaps you too, from what they consider to be the “real America.” This narrow view of patriotism is not only a misunderstanding of the concept, but also fails to include the most crucial implication of patriotism: To truly love one’s country, in its full complexity and unfinished work, means that one feels an obligation to improve it.
Despite what those on the far right might think — and despite their efforts to erase our country’s history – some of the greatest patriots come from the very communities they continue to sideline. Black Americans risked their lives to make America a greater nation by fighting for civil rights, women navigated a maze of glass ceilings to move us toward gender equity and people of varied spiritual beliefs have collaborated on an interfaith basis to preserve the separation of church and state. Making America more inclusive, democratic and free can be difficult work, and yet people try every day. This, to me, is patriotism.
It can be draining to love this country when we are not loved the same way in return. People deserve liberty no matter who they are. But the fact is that many contended with fear and anxiety on July Fourth because our freedoms and ability to pursue our happiness are in jeopardy. And yet, despite these feelings of unease, I caution hope over despair and implore action over paralysis.
This moment is stark, but do not let it steal your hope; let it be a wake-up call! People who love this nation have always pushed to expand our freedoms and include more communities in the project of establishing a more perfect union.
Independence Day is simply a reminder that we each still have the opportunity to impact this
country, and to hold it to the highest standards. Do not allow the far right to remake this country into one where they can dictate what you or your fellow Americans can, do, think or say, or the decisions that you can make about your body. Exercise your fundamental rights, while you still have them: Use your freedoms of speech, assembly and voting to bring about the best that this nation can be. It is not too late.
As for me, though at times it is painful, I do love this country. And to honor this love, I refuse to stop fighting fiercely to hold this nation to its founding promises, owed not just to the privileged few, but to every single one of us. I invite everyone who loves this country to do the same.
University of Oklahoma
Stacey is a political science professor and program coordinator for political science at Rose State College. Stacey is a member of Scholars Strategy Network.
The University of Oklahoma’s recent decision to shutter a longstanding program intended to encourage, empower and educate female Oklahoma college students to pursue civic and political service careers has deeply unsettled me.
I am upset by the abrupt end to this invaluable program, both as a 2007 alumna of the National Education for Women’s Leadership program and a political science professor who has written recommendation letters and successfully sent at least two students to the program in my last decade of teaching.
The Carl Albert Congressional Research and Studies Center has coordinated and hosted the NEW Leadership program since its inception in 2002, making me one of the elder graduates of a program that is critical to fostering Oklahoma’s future female political leaders.
The program was, unfortunately, collateral damage of Republican Gov. Kevin Stitt’s executive order banning diversity, equity and inclusion programs.
One of my most outstanding students has been accepted into the program, and it pains me to know that this stellar young woman may be the last I encourage to pursue the opportunity.
I, along with a bipartisan chorus of politically minded women in the state, am angered and disappointed by NEW Leadership’s shuttering. From conservative firebrand Leslie Osborn to fellow alumna and House Minority Leader Cyndi Munson (D), many women have expressed their dismay and frustration at this significant loss.
Sign up for The Fulcrum newsletter
My initial concern is that there were very few people outside of higher education who were privy to the NEW Leadership program and the two decades of good that it has done for Oklahoma’s women.
The program I attended was in its infancy, yet it still provided young women from across the state a unique opportunity to interact with their civically minded peers.
More importantly, it made our female government officials accessible to us. I met both Gov. Mary Fallin (R) and Lt. Gov. Jari Askins (D) within the program’s one-week span. The program emphasized planning for the future and brought in a host of speakers who engaged us in topics ranging from choosing the right graduate or law school for our career paths to how to get involved in political campaigns and electoral politics.
Because the program accepted students statewide, it was a critical resource for female students at Oklahoma’s rural colleges and universities. With the NEW program’s discontinuation, young women may not get the same opportunities to interface with elected officials, experience the state Capitol, or receive the quality advice that the University of Oklahoma brought to its campus.
The program was intended to develop the confidence and empowerment of women, a traditionally marginalized sector within American political governance, to encourage more female representation in politics and civic life, and to simply be leaders amongst their peers.
This concern is the most pressing one to me with regards to state politics. Over the past five years, we have seen a decrease in the number of women elected to serve at the state Capitol.
According to the Center for American Women and Politics, while this decrease has not been significant, the drop from 32 female legislators in 2019 to 29 in 2024 is problematic in terms of female issues and voices being represented — or not — in Oklahoma.
Our state ranks 45th in terms of female state legislators, a trend I would hope our elected officials and citizenry alike would want to improve.
Female representation in federal and statewide offices is not much better, with women holding just one of Oklahoma’s seven congressional seats (that would be Republican Rep. Stephanie Bice) and only three elected executive offices in the state (Labor Commissioner Leslie Osborn, State Auditor and Inspector Cindy Byrd and Corporation Commissioner Kim David).
Education empowers all students to reach their full potential and to achieve goals that those students did not believe possible. NEW Leadership is a crucial educational program for female students in Oklahoma.
It makes them aware of the multitude of possibilities that accompany an education and a life of civic and political service to the state and its people. It allows them to understand that they have a role and a place in their democracy.
The NEW Leadership program was a moment of clarity for me as a young woman.
It afforded me the opportunity to understand how women across the political spectrum experienced politics in Oklahoma.
I do hope that there is a clarification issued to the executive order that allows the University of Oklahoma to continue NEW Leadership well into the future. I would like my own daughter, as well as everyone’s daughters statewide, to have the same life-changing opportunity to participate that so greatly shaped the trajectory of my life and career.
This writing was first published May 14 in the Oklahoma Voice.
