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I’ll be the first to acknowledge that I’ve arrived as NCG’s CEO on the shoulders of many others that came before me. Two of the strongest shoulders belong to my first professional mentor and a heavyweight in philanthropic circles, Joe Brooks. During my seventeen years as a work partner and friend at The San Francisco Foundation and then PolicyLink, I learned more from him than I could ever adequately describe. He had a habit of saying things that were increasingly profound the more you thought about them. One of those sayings was, “how much do you need to know to act?”, often dropped in a setting surrounded by other foundation colleagues where he was about to propose bold action to engage some of the Bay Area’s most vexing social challenges
This past week, Joe Brooks joined the ancestors, bringing to a close a powerful life and career whose impact extended deep into Bay Area philanthropy, and well beyond. Joe’s legacy in this field is vital and active through the dozens of leaders whose lives he touched in more than five decades of public service – including my own.
Philanthropy brings a special appetite for innovation and has the capacity for greater risk-taking – and those stances are needed at this moment to preserve affordable housing. When affordable housing is destroyed – through neglect and disinvestment, demolition, increased rents - people lose their homes, neighborhoods lose community, and the region becomes a more congested and less interesting place.
Rising sea levels due to climate change have put people, the natural and built environment at severe
risk not only on the California coast, but throughout the state. Flooding affects housing and
transportation infrastructure and rising groundwater releases buried toxics, with disproportionately
impacting low-income communities of color bearing the greatest burden. The price tag to mitigate
these dangers to community and economic wellbeing are staggering, with over $110 Billion projected
for the Bay Area alone.
Over the next 20 years in the U.S., $35–70 trillion in wealth will transfer from one generation to another in the largest generational wealth transfer in history, mostly moving within wealthy white families. The policies that make possible this protection and accumulation of wealth are situated within the legacy of land theft, genocide of Native people, enslavement of Black people, and exploitation of natural resources. This context of racial capitalism has also given rise to wealth accumulation that, in part, birthed the philanthropic sector. Paradoxically, many of us working within philanthropy aim to contribute to changes in systems, structures, and outcomes that address the harms of interconnected systems like racial capitalism that favor some at the expense of others and the planet.
Over the next 20 years in the U.S., $35–70 trillion in wealth will transfer from one generation to another in the largest generational wealth transfer in history, mostly moving within wealthy white families. The policies that make possible this protection and accumulation of wealth are situated within the legacy of land theft, genocide of Native people, enslavement of Black people, and exploitation of natural resources. This context of racial capitalism has also given rise to wealth accumulation that, in part, birthed the philanthropic sector. Paradoxically, many of us working within philanthropy aim to contribute to changes in systems, structures, and outcomes that address the harms of interconnected systems like racial capitalism that favor some at the expense of others and the planet.
The places we call home, their streets, smells, sounds, and sights, shape our opportunity for a fair shot at a long and healthy life. I grew up in the shadows of greatness, in the city of pride and purpose, Richmond, California. During WWII, it was a busy port between San Francisco and Sacramento, home to the Kaiser shipyards.