One year ago, in response to the murder of George Floyd, I wrote Racism, Privilege, Training, Facilitation – and Sharing the Wealth. To become a more active, authentic ally, I made this commitment:

“As I slowly wind down my business over the next few years, I will continue passing along gigs and recommending consultants. One consequence of my own racism is that most of these referrals have been going to white folks. That needs to change…

“I will proactively reach out to BIPOC consultants I have not yet met. I will give more money to people-of-color-led organizations. I will seek out new ways to support BIPOC-owned businesses. And I will advocate for reparations.”

This post generated more comments than anything ever written for Train Your Board. For that reason alone, I owe you a progress report.

Or do I?

Why this might be a bad idea

Consider this quote from Rabbi Debora S. Gordon:

“You don’t get special marks for doing the right thing, for doing what you should. You don’t get special recognition for being a decent human being, a mensch. You don’t get to call attention to yourself because you’ve learned how to do the right thing.

“I say to my fellow people who enjoy white-skin privilege: Walk humbly. If you’re doing your best to act in solidarity with people of color, be humble about it.”

I thoroughly agree; hence my conundrum. If being a good ally means stepping back, how do I hold myself accountable without centering myself in the conversation?

On the other hand, two committed white colleagues both urged me – independently and persuasively – to do this. (Given that they’re both at least twenty years younger, maybe it’s a generational thing?)

Consequently, I am wrestling with another aspect of learning anti-racism: trying to distinguish accountability from virtue-signaling. I humbly encourage and accept all guidance, especially from BIPOC colleagues.

Here’s my update.

More jobs for BIPOC consultants

One tangible commitment: support more BIPOC-owned businesses. In my field of consulting, training, and facilitation, this has been a pleasure and not very difficult.

I’ve added 20 BIPOC-led firms to my referral list, a 400% increase. In nearly all cases, we’ve had in-depth conversations about their services, clients, and emerging interests. This helps me make intelligent referrals. In some cases, they’ve sent work to me.

I refer out about half a dozen jobs per month but have no idea who gets hired. Regardless, it’s a good-faith effort I can continue to build and deepen. If you’re a BIPOC consultant, trainer, or facilitator, and you serve nonprofits, I want to know more about you and your work.

I’ve also hosted a dozen guest posts in the last year, including five BIPOC authors. (Room for improvement here.) And I pay the authors.

Giving more to people-of-color-led organizations 

Of the many groups I support financially, the vast majority are led by white folks. In the last year, I’ve noticed several changes.

First, I’m giving more to BIPOC-led groups I’ve supported for years. Second, I’m much more open to (and supportive of) crowdfunding campaigns for community-based BIPOC projects, especially in my region. These are often informal, non-501(c)(3) projects – the definition of grassroots.

Finally, I’ve made modest efforts to influence the giving of others. For example, we organized an anti-racism course through our synagogue and donated half the tuition fees to BIPOC-led organizations – then shared their websites with the congregation.

Supporting BIPOC-owned businesses

As noted above, most of my efforts have focused on consultant referrals.

I have a list of BIPOC-owned businesses in my state and check it periodically, looking for purchasing opportunities. When it’s easy to prioritize – for example, a favorite local restaurant – I do.

However, I’ve neglected the harder work of looking at everything I buy and seeking BIPOC-owned alternatives. This feels like my next move.

Advocating for reparations

In addition to contacting my congressperson in support of H.R.40, the Federal reparations study, I’ve been tracking H.232 and H.273, two Vermont bills with social justice and reparations implications.

This topic took an unexpected and interesting turn. Inspired by Real Rent Duwamish in Seattle, my family began paying annual rent to Vermont’s Abenaki community. We calculate the municipal tax rate on our land minus the house, then send that amount to the tribe’s affiliated nonprofit. (Yes, we pay our taxes, too.)

With my encouragement, several friends are doing the same. I’ve been asking organizations and congregations to step up, too. Please consider joining us.

Is this enough? Of course not

I participated in my first anti-racism workshop about 20 years ago. At the end, we shared a joke: Well, we can check this off the list.

The more I learn about structural racism – and my role in perpetuating it – the deeper and more challenging the work ahead. I’m OK with that. This work is hard because it’s supposed to be hard. It’s also essential.

Feel free to share what you’ve learned – and how you’ve changed – over the last year. Thank you.