So, on Friday, I pressed the ‘submit’ button for applying for a significant grant from a well-known funder. 

It took two weeks to write. It took three days to recover. 

One of the more challenging topics we in LoR leadership have is in the ongoing conversation about grants. 

Should we apply for them? Is chasing grants in alignment with our North Star? How much time should we devote to them? Is winning, or at least ‘advancing to the next round’ proof of our efficacy and legitimacy? Does ‘losing’ state the opposite; that we are less than effective and legit? What does it mean to even think in these terms; how does this affect our ethos, our stance, our relationships with the community, both individually and collectively?

These are big questions. And, yes, quite candidly, since the major post-Holly funding drop in February, from which we have yet to recover, we have indeed been looking at ways to increase funding other than the community funded model we have relied upon. We have been fortunate, up to now, to have been able to stand apart from (but not above) the conversation about outside grants. But now we need to at least have the discussion.

There are implications both ways. 

We believe in our funding model. We believe in it so much, we eschew calling it something so cold and bloodless as a ‘funding model’. We believe that communities should take care of each other, and that those who are challenged and stretched should have skin in the game and financially engage. We believe it is in strong alignment with one of our core convictions at Lace on Race; that racism and white supremacy are primarily economic constructs, and that a deep internal dive regarding money, and finances, and power dynamic is one of the main parts of the work that we collectively do here in this space. Looking to outside sources weakens that. 

It is not at all lost on me that each dollar that flows into Lace on Race has a face attached to it; has hands that offer. It is a big deal that a real person in Camden, or Butte, or Chicago, or Santa Barbara, or Charleston made a real decision, an intentional choice to partner with us; that they believe in both the work we do but also in the people who do it, and that they want to see this work continue. Every month I think of it as making Stone Soup; Stone Soup, but without the trickery. 

We make the soup, the soup is already on the stove. We will always make the soup. But each month, a (small) portion of you all provide the bread, the orange juice and the wine; the salad fixings, the butter, the centerpieces, the dessert, the garnish, the cheese and fruit. Suddenly, our humble table with battered, well loved pots of soup becomes a feast. 

Month after month, year after year as we have walked together at Lace on Race, I have been astounded at the laden table we co-create together. 

Would it be different if the meal was catered? If we all sat round the table and ate and drank from goods we did not make ourselves?

What if we waited and spent time, not in chopping and stirring and searing and baking–and serving and sharing, and instead used the time to write supplicating words about the meal we hoped to receive?

That’s what it felt like these weeks as I contemplated the words that captured the fragrance of the pot, rather than chopping and stirring what the community might provide. The time I spent on this one grant application could have gone to the community, and in a way it did, it did. 

But. 

But once removed. But from a distance. The community became an ‘online adults only learning environment’. The idea of ‘holding our own hands’ and ‘managing our slosh’ became ‘facilitating emotional regulation’. Walking with each other became a formalized, structured mentoring program. ‘Taking It Outside’ became a test for ‘generalizable results’.

None of it wrong. But stripped of the relational; stripped of the alchemy of what we do here, it became diminished. 

And very much ‘In The Box’. When we have spent over three years now climbing out of the stifling box that robs us of curiosity, creativity, and agency.

Vu of Nonprofit AF has made it his mission to challenge and critique the current funding model, even as he coaches orgs and individuals to best navigate the system as it currently stands. He acknowledges the inherent toxic power dynamic; the racism; the classism; the elitism. All of the things we do our level best to reject here at Lace on Race. 

And it was all there, in sharp relief, in the application process. My track record; awards and accolades I have received over the years; who has given us significant sums (because money begets money; another toxic dynamic that we were able to hit because of the family foundation money). Another example of the adage that the best way to get money, either from lenders or from funders, is to look like you don’t need it at all. 

And I held my nose and played the game. I was saddened that I had to play it at all. But our Western Star demands sustainability and longevity and legacy. So, if the community will not tangibly engage, not to the extent that is needed, then hopefully funders will see what we are doing and step in. 

There will be a loss though. Whether we ‘win’ or lose. 

So then. We will never back away from a community funded model; one based on intentionality and buy-in and skin in the game. It is how we live out our shared ethos; how we live out our collective North Star. 

The current grant model does not do that. And while it may become a piece of how we keep the lights on, *it cannot come at any price*. If our mission is to lessen and mitigate the harm endured by Black and brown people, perpetuated by white people and white supremacy, can we cozy up, in a major way, to a system whose very existence harms? 

Can we endure the discouragement and the demoralization if we lose? And, crucially, this–can we manage the hubris and the faux ‘meritocracy’ if we win? How much of our time and bandwidth are we willing to give to this system?

Vu of Nonprofit AF does something similar to what we do here with Community Partners, and for largely the same reasons: there is something fetid and distasteful indeed in making orgs, smaller even than our own, jump through hoops to continue to do good work. This is why there is no application process for organizations and individuals whom we at LoR have vetted and choose to support. 

We give them the funds, unrestricted. We ask no questions. We don’t ask for a 10 page quarterly report (or a one page, for that matter) proving we made a good choice. We don’t ask to see spreadsheets to oversee how the funds were spent. 

We know how harmful the above flexes can be. We choose not to oppress in that way. 

But, in order to do the good program and partnership work that we do, must we turn to this as well? 

The discussion still rages, both outside with other leaders of organizations, and here in the Leadership and Staff chats and Zoom calls of LoR. 

But here, our conversation is different. 

In every other of the groups I am in for leaders of NGO and nonprofits, the query is never whether to chase the funding dollars; the conversation always centers on how to score the most moolah. It is sobering that even as almost all of the leaders agree that the current dynamic is beyond toxic, still they participate. The conversations around the best paragraphs, how to grab a grant reviewer’s attention; how to make the their programs sound innovative, but not radical; compelling but not revolutionary, is sobering. 

Not here, though. Everything we do, including how to fund this space is always filtered through North Star, Full Respect Living. 

We don’t want funding at any price. Dollars are more than just money; they are symbols and metaphors. They are how we face and relate to the world, and to our community. Your financial engagement is one way that you look us in the eye and say, ‘keep going’, as you all stay firmly buckled in the car, whose GPS is set, unwaveringly, on our North Star. 

There are more than enough of us here to feed each other and love on each other, without outside influence determining the menu. 

The crucial question that each of us must answer is: will we all come to the table with our outstretched arms holding our humble, homemade offerings to share with our fellows?

I love you. The soup is ready.

The conversation will continue. Head back to the Bistro to share your thoughts there.