Note: This is a follow-up to an earlier post, The Myth of Dirty Money. My goal is to demonstrate the complexity of this topic, especially in rural areas with limited resources, and discuss how nonprofits can adapt.

I used to take regular work trips to Humboldt County in Northern California. With support from NorCAN, a project of the Humboldt Area Foundation, I led workshops and consulted with nonprofit clients across the county and beyond.

I loved the host organization, enjoyed the region, and always encountered good work and good people.

And the landscape… wow!

This is the redwood empire: ancient forests, massive trees, lots of rain (in good years) and deep fertility.

Weed, weed everywhere

Humboldt County – especially the southern section, locally known as SoHum – is also part of the Emerald Triangle, which Wikipedia calls “the largest cannabis-producing region in the United States.” As such, the growing, processing, and distribution of marijuana has influenced the local economy, culture, and nonprofit community for a generation. 

During the decade I visited, it was illegal to grow or sell marijuana (with the exception of medical cannabis) in California. Regardless, large sections of the area’s private lands, as well as state and federal forests, housed illicit, unpermitted, and often destructive cannabis farms. 

Normalizing it

The impact of this business – the biggest moneymaker in the region, by far – was pervasive. 

The weekly newspaper always included a feature story about the industry, often using “grow” as a noun: “The police discovered and destroyed a two-acre grow near the river.” The local community radio station included weekly programs on cannabis cultivation.

Meanwhile, grassroots nonprofits in these small, rural communities tried to address the impacts – social, economic, environmental – while also hoping to capture some of the marijuana revenue flowing through their local economy. It’s an interesting case study in how nonprofits can respond – in creative, open-minded ways – to the question of “dirty money.”

Ripple effects

Regardless of how you feel about marijuana – pro- or anti-legalization – living in a vast landscape of illegal farms and processing facilities changes everything. For example:

• Farmers often sprayed herbicides and pesticides on their crops, poisoning the woods.
• To irrigate, they diverted water from rivers already suffering from drought. This imperiled salmon and other species.
• Vehicles with armed men (yeah, mostly men) drove through the woods at all hours, protecting their plots. At least one colleague, exhausted by the violent atmosphere, moved her family into town.
• The underground marijuana market contributed to a greater incidence of human trafficking and sexual violence.
• Hundreds (maybe thousands) of seasonal workers would show up to harvest and “trim bud,” putting a strain on housing, food supplies, medical care, and social services.

While the powers-that-be had to consider all this collateral damage, they also benefited from the cash (and I do mean cash) supporting local businesses. All those “grows” required farm supplies, hardware, fencing, surveillance equipment, trucks, gas, ammo, groceries, pizza, beer, etc.

What about the nonprofits?

As noted earlier, this industry created all sorts of social and environmental ripple effects. When visiting workers live on the street, who serves them? When folks need medical care, who heals them? Who speaks for the forest and the fish? 

Who deals with the difficult problems no one wants to address? Who talks about the stuff nobody wants to talk about?

That’s right: nonprofits do.

In rural communities, their role is even larger. Under these circumstances, they need to navigate a deeply complex fundraising environment.

How do we get some?

During one trip, I facilitated a memorable conversation with a group of nonprofit leaders. The topic: How do we get more of that marijuana money to fund our work?

Stating the obvious: most of the growers didn’t have charitable foundations or philanthropic advisors. They didn’t have mailing addresses. Indeed, they didn’t even write checks. If they had a social media presence, it was invisible. 

During our meeting, the nonprofit fundraisers talked about strangers walking up to them at barbecues, church sales, and other benefit events and giving $500 donations – in cash!

In the end, we landed on two obvious (and relatively inefficient) strategies:

• More public-facing events that growers and their employees could attend.
• Deeper outreach to “legitimate” businesses who benefited from proximity to the cannabis trade.

Now about that dirty money…

Here’s what I remember most. The “dirty money” question barely entered the conversation.

No one expressed any shame about trying to fund their organizations using available local resources. 

Illegal marijuana pervaded their community; it literally filled the air. Given that reality – and the pressing challenges they were working to address – they were in no position to sort the dirty from the clean. To meet the needs of their neighbors and sustain their organizations, they had to incorporate “grow money” into their fundraising plans.

I applaud them for their pragmatism and persistence. I probably learned more from them than they did from me.

What about you?

Do you face any ethical conundrums regarding potential funding sources? 

How are you responding? What can you learn from your colleagues in places like Humboldt County?