Se-ah-dom Edmo and Esperanza Tervalon on funding the movement, what’s really “radical” and wooden clogs

Executive Director of Seeding Justice Se-ah-dom Edmo and Board Chair Esperanza Tervalon sit down with us to reflect on the foundation’s nearly 50-year history of convening movement leaders to build collective power across Oregon state – and more recently, Washington and Idaho – towards justice and liberation for all communities. 

Together they open their doors and invite us into a foundation that feels different from others; one led by organizers and movement leaders, that centers those most impacted by injustices, that champions practical, flexible and responsive solutions, and that believes wholeheartedly in caring for one another as humans. 

As they reflect on the current environment, Se-ah-dom and Esperanza remind us of the importance of finding our people and taking good care of ourselves to sustain this critical work. 

Episode Guide: https://philanthropynw.org/podcast/givingpractice/se-ah-dom-edmo-and-esperanza-tervalon

Transcript

Se-ah-dom: 

Many of the groups that we fund and work with are not radical. They're just doing what they need to do to take care of their families and communities. And they're stepping up and providing that care, that leadership that Esperanza was talking about, in their own home communities all over the state, all over this region. And that's not radical. What is radical is creating entire sections of tax codes to protect white wealth and power. That is radical. 

Nancy: 

From The Giving Practice at Philanthropy Northwest, this is Can We Talk About...?, a project to normalize the messiness of leading for racial equity in philanthropy and reflect on what it takes to create lasting transformation. In season two, our hosts explore what it looks like for philanthropy to advance racial equity on the ground, where the work can look quite different depending on the context, whether it's place, issue area, or community served, and in a world where our contexts are constantly shifting. We're asking guests to practice vulnerability, explore sticky topics, and look for learning. And what we ask of you is to do the same. 

Abby: 

Hey, everyone, and welcome to Can We talk About...?, a project to normalize the messiness of leading for racial equity in philanthropy. I'm Abby Sarmac, I'm a senior advisor with the Giving Practice at Philanthropy Northwest and your host for this episode. Today I'm joined by Se-ah-dom Edmo, the executive director of Seeding Justice, and Esperanza Tervalon, who, along with myself, is a board member of Seeding Justice. 

Seeding Justice is an operating foundation focused on movement building and organizing for collective action and change in the Northwest region, specifically across Oregon, Washington, and Idaho. So welcome, Se-ah-dom and Esperanza. So, to get us started, I'd love for you both to just share a little bit about yourselves. Who are you and what's your story with Seeding Justice? 

Se-ah-dom: 

I'm happy to go first. My name is Se-ah-dom. I am Shoshone-Bannock, Nez Perce, and Yakama, I use she/her pronouns, and I'm the executive director here at Seeding Justice. I've been here since 2018. This is my first role in philanthropy. I come from more of a community organizing background, and I think that's a lot informed by my own personal lived experience as a Indigenous woman here in the Pacific Northwest and a lover of progressive issues. When this opportunity came up right at this intersection of philanthropy, movement building, with a commitment to not only move money but shift power and decision-making, I felt like it was just... If I had dreamed up a foundation to lead, this totally would be it. All the intersections, all the people I love, and no one I don't, all in one place. 

Abby: 

Love it. 

Esperanza: 

So my name is Esperanza Tervalon, my pronouns are she and they, and I am a board member of Seeding Justice. I actually was just, last week, approved to be the board chair for my last year. I know, so exciting. I'm originally from East Oakland, California. I was born into the movement. My mother was a part of the Black Panther Party and lived with Angela Davis when she first came out of prison. 

Abby: 

Wow. 

Esperanza: 

Shout out to my Auntie Angela. And my father was a part of the Young Lords Party. So I grew up in a very revolutionary home and I often tell people that movement is my home. I don't actually come to this through college, I wasn't politicized. I was politicized at home. And like many people in the Bay Area, I got gentrified out of Oakland, I couldn't afford to live there. I've ridden horses my entire life, which is a whole nother story and another podcast, but I decided that, if I was going to leave Oakland, I wanted to live somewhere rurally. I moved to Ashland, Oregon, and lived way up in the mountains, about 10,000 feet from cell service, on this 16 acre ranchette. And lived there for a few years and actually met Se-ah-dom working on the We Count Oregon campaign. 

It was the first Black woman in Oregon to run a statewide campaign, and we focused on reaching hard to count communities, including tribal communities. And so, Se-ah-dom and I worked together to make sure that Oregonians were counted. And in the process of that work, I found Bend, Oregon, to continue to ride horses and moved here about two and a half years ago. During the census work, I was really fortunate to... I run a consulting firm called A New Hope Consulting, and we were able to work on the census and bring in a lot of resources. And I don't come from money and felt like it was important if we had money for us to give it back, and we established a DAF with $250,000 at Seeding Justice called the Dope Shit Fund, where we fund projects- 

Abby: 

Love it. 

Esperanza: 

... where we resource projects that are trying things that are potentially going to fail. Basically, bringing the approach that we cannot continue to just fund the for sure of things, we have to give money and resource and time and energy to projects that might fail, but also could innovate in new ways. And so, that's the kind of work we fund and it's how I came to Seeding Justice. 

Abby: 

I love that. And let's definitely talk. Is that part of the Donor-in-Movement Funds, Esperanza, or no? 

Se-ah-dom: 

It's not. It's more of a traditional DAF. 

Abby: 

Got it. 

Se-ah-dom: 

Yeah. 

Abby: 

We'll talk more about that later, I just think it's... I love it. 

Esperanza: 

I already bring the movement fund part, so she trusts me to give it to me. 

Abby: 

There you go. 

Esperanza: 

That's right. 

Abby: 

Exactly. Even though it's traditional, it's still funding dope shit. 

Esperanza: 

Absolutely. 

Abby: 

Good. Awesome. Thank you both so much for your stories. I actually wouldn't mind taking hat off. Se-ah-dom, just wanted to check in with you, totally say no to this, but I think that one of your more powerful stories that you've told publicly has been about how your- 

Se-ah-dom: 

My Seeding Justice story? 

Abby: 

Yeah, the Seeding Justice story. Is that okay? Could we rewind and just tell that story as well? 

Se-ah-dom: 

Yeah. 

Abby: 

I just love it so much too. So, anyway. 

Se-ah-dom: 

Yeah, thank you, Abby. I want to start by saying, I don't think my story is unique. If you are a person who was born and raised in the Pacific Northwest, I think you probably have some sort of connection to MRG Foundation, which is our previous name. We changed our name a few years ago to Seeding Justice. And when I first got this job and this position, the organization had gone through a really tough transition. There was 100% staff turnover. I was employee number two that was hired by the board at the time. And I came into this work not thinking that I had a very strong connection to this organization, but immediately I started reading the old annual reports. And we're really fortunate, we have... I'm a really tactile person, so I loved just the physical touch and feel of the old paper and typewriters, hairstyles in the '70s. All of that really resonated with me. 

I made it my goal to read all of the 45 years of annual reports as my own onboarding challenge, and found in there that these grants that were led by a steering committee of folks in movement, in part, were really effective because they reached me when I was a baby. The first place that I ever sweat, when I was 1-year-old, was an MRG grantee called Ampo that focused on cultural revitalization and serving urban Indian populations. And that's who I was. The first place that I sweat, a grantee of MRG, my Indian education camp that provided summer safe space led by and for tribal people here in the Pacific Northwest, also a longtime grantee of MRG. The first board that I ever joined, Columbia Riverkeeper, which was the first nonprofit organization that really had working with tribes built into its organizational DNA, was the first board that I ever joined. 

And so, at all of these really significant junctures in my life and growth and personal and professional development, we're all connected to this organization in some way, shape, or form. And I'm finding that too, and just talking with people in other movement spaces. Reyna Lopez who works over at PCUN also was a kid whose parents were members of PCUN and who grew up in movement and very much close to MRG Foundation for a really long time. We were the only funder that would take the risk of funding that organization. Movement isn't about necessarily individuals, but the impact that we have, over time, on generations and how we change and move and evolve and grow in a really authentic and organic way. And what I have grown to love about this Seeding Justice community, is that commitment to engagement of movement leaders to help decide where our assets flow. 

Abby: 

I love that story. And I can speak as, also, a relatively newly-minted board member, this was Se-ah-dom's invitation to all of us as well, as new board members, to go into those annual reports, find the report in the year that you were born, and maybe I'm aging myself a little bit. Maybe there was only a report maybe the year after I was born. But exactly right. You look through it and you're like, "Oh my gosh, this organization has touched so many people for incredibly long." In part why I was very inspired to tell the story. Thank you for that. 

Now that we've heard a bit about your own individual stories and Seeding Justice, let's talk about Seeding Justice's story. Yeah, so how would you tell that story? 

Se-ah-dom: 

I can lead a little. 

Abby: 

Yeah. 

Se-ah-dom: 

We were founded in 1976 as an operating foundation, so meaning we raise everything we grant out, we didn't, at the time, have any kind of endowment to speak of, we're just basically a nonprofit whose job and work was really to raise money and grant it out in a way that was accountable to movement. And that was really the vision. The original name, McKenzie River Gathering Foundation, was named after the gathering of people with access to wealth who gathered on the banks of the McKenzie River in order to disperse the wealth that they had. And that's how we continue to operate to this day, having movement leaders convene and carry the work forward. So everything that we raise goes out typically in the year that we raise it. And we used to fund mostly grassroots organizations at about total about a half a million a year. 

And we've grown considerably since then, pushing out close to 50 million in the last five years alone. And I think that, in part, came through embracing being led during the pandemic by a committed group of immigrant rights leaders, who came together and said, "We want a way..." It was very clear in 2020, when the administration was passing the CARES Act, that they were not going to include undocumented individuals and families intentionally. And there was a group of Oregon nonprofits that came together and said, "This is wrong. We want a way to help provide a social safety net for Oregonians." And so, that's what we did. We formed our first community fund called Oregon Worker Relief. We raised $2 million in six weeks and pushed out what was the largest grant to date, at that point, which was $186,000 to help set up the worker relief system. 

That system now, today, has distributed over a 170 million in public and private dollars to undocumented Oregonians, business owners, tenants, statewide. And, to be clear, this is a program that our undocumented families in Oregon have been asking for decades, dreaming of for decades. I think it took the kind of pressure and social and political will to move it forward and we were ready. Movement leaders were ready to stand up this program, because they had been thinking about it for decades. And we just happened to be there and be the trusted philanthropic partner because we had been there, alongside organizations like PCUN and Latino Network, CAUSA at the time. 

We wanted, and they wanted, an organization who they were sure would stand up with them and alongside them in court, should they need that kind of protection. And they knew that we were the philanthropic organization willing to do that. It was a huge honor, especially as an Indigenous woman in a space where I was able to do something small for our immigrant families and communities. And I always joke that the Worker Relief Steering committee is really smart immigrant rights attorneys and activists and one rogue native lady willing to raise money and talk to lawmakers and really go to the mat on a lot of these issues in ways that we weren't really seeing, at the time, other philanthropic entities move forward in that space. 

Abby: 

Beautiful. 

Esperanza: 

It's so interesting, because this is around the time that I came to the board during the pandemic, around 2020, and I've been working at the intersection of philanthropy and social justice for 15 years. That's been my gig. That's some of the work that we do at a New Hope Consulting, is advising philanthropic institutions on how to build the capacities of institutions and working with social justice organizations to build strong, organizing, power building models, programs, organizations. And I've been invited to be on lots of boards. I sit on a bunch of boards and I love the organizations that I work with, but I had never accepted a philanthropic board before, because I felt I always struggled with the sort of approach of philanthropy, which is really top down, it's very protective of itself. It talks a lot about movement, it talks a lot about people, but at the end of the day, folks aren't willing to put themselves out there to use and leverage the privilege and access and resources they have to stand in the gap for people who can't afford to take the kinds of hits that would come with standing up. 

And when Se-ah-dom took over, it was MRG at the time, but Seeding Justice, and I knew that there was an opportunity, even by inviting people like me to the board, to be in connection and community with philanthropy in a new way that centered those most impacted, that believes that the people with the solutions are the people closest to the pain, that working class folks and Indigenous folks and Black folks, while we may not be the racialized majority in the state, still have not only a role to play but leadership to offer in how we create an equitable and just state. And it was part of the reason why I said yes to spending my time as a volunteer on this board. 

I think, also, Seeding Justice's ability to be in community with organizations felt new and different. So worked with a lot of philanthropic organizations where well-meaning and well-intending program officers would come up and say, "Hey, we have this thing that we think is important," is a very different model from groups going to the CEO of a foundation and saying, "Hey, we've known you in community as an organizer, will you help us figure out how to get resources to this?" And that felt like a different kind of place to support, to put my own money into, put my money anywhere. And I chose to put it here, because I feel like this is the future of philanthropy. This should be the direction of philanthropy, working with and among community, being led by community, and not allowing access to resource, proximity to power, determine the vision and direction of the organization. But Seeding Justice is really bottom up when it takes that philosophy and it puts it into play in a new and important way for philanthropy. 

Abby: 

I'd love to tease that out a bit more too, Esperanza, because I love this idea that, in a way, Seeding Justice's model is the future of philanthropy and that this is the vision of the future of philanthropy. And one of the pieces that I've heard you talk about, Se-ah-dom, that both of you talk about, is this piece around folks are leery right now, just given what's going on in the world, to fund activism. And this idea that, "Oh, this is activism or radical." But why is what we do considered radical? Why is that? So, anyway, I never tell this story as well as you both do, so I'm just making a little opening here to talk a little bit about that. 

Se-ah-dom: 

Oh, gosh. I will say, I had a conversation with another leader in philanthropy, 2020, 2021, and people were hedging bets on whether or not this Oregon Worker Relief thing was actually going to go. So we were having conversations with the emergency board at the legislature and that board was headed up by now Governor Tina Kotek. And she was calling me, "I don't know, $10 million, it's a lot." 

And I was like, "Got it." 

That first initial ask, I really knew how important it was. That first initial ask was 10 million and she was like, "Hey, 20% is really steep for overhead." 

And I was like, "All right. What if I could tell you I could raise $2 million to cover the overhead? That way, every dollar the emergency board allocates goes directly into the hands of Oregonians." 

And she was like, "I could get yes votes for that." 

And I'm like, "Great. Let's go. Let's move forward." 

But as we were raising money for the private side, the philanthropic side, that $2 million goal, we got some feedback about Seeding Justice and then MRG Foundation, who we were, what we represented, et cetera. And, Abby, someone commented to me, I think this is the conversation you are recalling, "Oh, but your rhetoric is so radical." And one way to imply that one's rhetoric, our own rhetoric, is not radical, is to accuse somebody else of being radical. And I think, for a while, we had really embraced that position, right? And in the 1970s, it was hippies, there might've been weed smoking at this McKenzie River Gathering, I'm not going to lie. I totally heard stories. I've heard some stories, not corroborating of anything, but I've heard. 

And I also think that it's a strategy to really diminish the authority of communities closest to the pain of injustice. Oregon Worker Relief, nothing about it was radical. It was practical. We needed a system and to provide social safety nets for undocumented individuals and families, and it needed to be practical, it needed to run. The money in it needed to move quickly into the hands of individuals who had jobs but did not have sick leave, did not have any kind of other public assistance that was going to step in. And these are folks who had been paying taxes for decades. So this is their money. 

Esperanza: 

Because of the pandemic. It's not like they didn't want to go to work, none of us were going to work. We were all home. 

Se-ah-dom: 

That's right. And that is not a radical solution. That is a practical solution. And I think many of the groups that we fund and work with are not radical, they're just doing what they need to do to take care of their families and communities. And they're stepping up and providing that care, that leadership that Esperanza was talking about, in their own home communities, all over the state, all over this region. And that's not radical. What is radical is creating entire sections of tax codes to protect white wealth and power. 

Abby: 

That's right. 

Se-ah-dom: 

That is radical. That is totally radical. 

Esperanza: 

The radical right. 

Se-ah-dom: 

The radical right. It's true. I think it's listening with an ear to the ground and understanding the tactics of keeping us poor, keeping us sick, keeping us divided so we can't build power. And we really, at Seeding Justice, truly see part of our work, resourcing movements and shifting power and decision-making, as a very critical part of what we do. And really dismantling that idea that what we are doing is radical, it's not. It's what our families have been doing for generations in order to protect ourselves. 

Esperanza: 

I think about all of the work that has happened around Seeding Justice and just want to also lift up that there has been an ongoing commitment to women of color, Black, Indigenous, women of color leadership in the institution since Se-ah-dom came on, and that has shown up on our board, our outgoing chair is from Warm Springs, from Simnasho, Jaylyn Suppah, who's super respected and amazing and from Central Oregon. And these two native ladies running this organization for Chair and CEO is actually not nothing. That may be the both practical solution to a state like Oregon, where we have the most disenrolled tribes, where more native folks have tried to be erased from but actually have just thrived here and continue to have deeper and deeper roots. 

And I always like to remind all of us, as a political analyst and someone who specializes in civic engagement and voter engagement, Oregon has been a testing ground for the right. That is what this state has done at every turn. And it has been a testing ground for the left. And so we see this really polarized fight, where the far right is constantly throwing really crazy ideas in hopes of being able to replicate them in other places, and we are able to develop and come up with really creative, practical solutions for everyday people. One of the reasons that we were able to have the Oregon Relief Fund is because we are the oldest sanctuary state in the nation. And those two pieces go together. There was never a question about whether or not we should have undocumented people here, the question is, "Well, they are here, they're safe here, how do we make sure that they are getting the same relief that the rest of Americans are getting through a $1,600 check from Trump?" That they're not going to receive, because they don't have the right papers. 

I think it's important for us to understand that Oregon maybe doesn't feel important on the national political map when you look at the broad, "How are we going to get a president?" People aren't looking to the 4 million people who live in Oregon. And maybe this isn't California where we have massive protests and people in the street fighting ICE, which God bless them for doing that work down in California. But that doesn't mean that we don't have really important work, happening both in philanthropy and in organizing here in the state, that is helping to transform the tone and texture of the broader movement, programming, and organizing happening across the country. And I think we're talking about the worker relief fund, but there's also been water funds that were set up for tribes when tribal water was at issue. 

There've been all kinds of moments where people have reached out to Seeding Justice and asked, "How can you help us get resources to solve our problems?" And the organization and Se-ah-dom have stepped up every single time to meet that moment. And I think that is the future of philanthropy. I think having leaders who are actually connected to the ground, not just leaders who are deeply staffed by people connected to the ground, by having leaders who come from community and care about community but also don't start to believe the fallacy that it's their money somehow and that this is their decision and they start to... I think a lot of leaders in philanthropy use their positionality and proximity to money to pretend that it's their money and then act how they think wealthy people with money would act. Which is just weird. It's a weird act to watch. It's really super problematic to watch so many... 

I'd love to see the rise of people of color coming into these positions, but it's also been really hard to watch them then masquerade in their bully pulpit instead of doing what I think and what we see Se-ah-dom doing, which is being a beacon for community, making this money accessible, putting it into the hands of the people who know what to do with it, who have a plan for it, and being responsive in a way that gives reverence to the people, to workers, to the folks who are supposed to be at the bottom and instead to revere them and hold them up. 

Abby: 

I love that, Esperanza. Actually, I'd love to tease out just maybe another example or two. You mentioned the Water Funds, but other examples of that, where folks came to Seeding Justice as a model and said, "Help get us resources here," and actually did and helped facilitate, but got out of the way and allowed resources to flow. Any other- 

Esperanza: 

There are several. 

Abby: 

Several stories are leaked out. 

Esperanza: 

You leaked all of them, to be honest. 

Abby: 

I know, exactly. 

Esperanza: 

That's the thing. It's not like other foundations where foundation leaders are just like, "You know what would be cool?" I went to a conference and you know what I found? It's not like that. 

Abby: 

It's just how we do it. Exactly. 

Esperanza: 

Thank you for going to a conference. I love that for you, but also, maybe if you just have relationships with the people on the ground, that could be another way and not live in your ivory tower. But anyways, just my thoughts. 

Se-ah-dom: 

I can't stand a conference, especially a philanthropic conference. The interesting thing about me is, we're talking about class and power and things like that too. That's what came up for me as Esperanza was talking, is I feel a considerable amount of discomfort in philanthropy in this space, just because I've grown up and lived most of my adult life in poverty. It makes my Goodwill wardrobe seem... I'm not wearing Eileen Fisher. 

Esperanza: 

Are those Prada shoes comfortable? I don't know. 

Se-ah-dom: 

I don't know. 

Esperanza: 

Were you really raised in poverty and you're walking around in Prada shoes? This shit is wild. 

Se-ah-dom: 

It's wild. 

Esperanza: 

She's not walking around in Prada shoes, by the way. 

Se-ah-dom: 

I wear a very practical... So I was taught by a whole bunch of feminists, you just have to wear fabulous yet comfortable shoes. So I'm kind of a dance go lady. I love a good dance go. 

Esperanza: 

Come on, clogs. 

Se-ah-dom: 

Oh my gosh. 

Abby: 

You heard it here first. 

Se-ah-dom: 

Yeah, I digress. 

Esperanza: 

Honestly, I'm also looking at wooden clogs. It's reasonable. There's no reason. 

Se-ah-dom: 

I'm holding up my foot. No one can see it on this podcast. 

Esperanza: 

I saw them and I literally have been looking for them ever since. Let's do this. 

Abby: 

We'll link them in the notes. 

Se-ah-dom: 

There we go. There we go. But seriously, I think you brought up the tribal funds that we hold. When I think back to that moment where I was reading all those annual reports, one of the things that jumped out at me is the history of funding that we have with tribes in particular. And I had never really joined an organization where that work had already been done and somewhat established. Up until I was 40, I worked in predominantly white organizations, always, and higher ed institutions mostly. But as I was approaching my 40th birthday, this was during the campaign for the first Trump election, so it was 2016, I was turning 40, which gives you a clue as to how old I am now. 

Abby: 

The more you know. 

Se-ah-dom: 

But I made this commitment to myself, I'm not working for a predominantly white organization ever again, for the rest of my life. I just hit my caring capacity for just neoliberal bullshit. And talking around a thing without talking about a thing, coming up with ways why we couldn't or over intellectualizing things, which happens in higher education. We think that talking and learning is doing, and sometimes it is. As I was a new person in the reproductive rights movement and reproductive justice movement, I was actively learning, but it was in order to learn what is the next step for Indian people, Indian women, in the reproductive justice movement? 

At any rate, all that to say, as I was looking at all of these annual reports, reading about Seeding Justice's history of funding many of the tribes that were terminated here in Oregon with the Western Termination Act, I also was thinking like, "Okay, specifically for philanthropy, many foundations have aspirations of being around in perpetuity, or being around for a very long time and making very large impacts and very grand visions and missions." And the perennial question that came up for me is, "Okay, if that's our goal, whether it's being around in perpetuity or having this amazing and great vision and impact, how are we in relationship with those who have been here since time immemorial? What does that look like?" 

And a friend of mine happened to be working at Warm Springs and was their COO when this water main break happened in 2019. And it actually happened to be the day of the very first gala that, when I became ED- 

Abby: 

Wow. 

Se-ah-dom: 

I know, I became ED and it was our first gala, and so I invited her, she's one of my best girlfriends. I actually talked with her on the phone until 11:30 last night, it felt like we were teenagers. But her name is Alyssa Macy, she runs Washington Conservation Action and is an amazing organizer and leader, but she was like, "Hey, Se-ah-dom, I can't come to your gala." 

And I was like, "Bitch, why are you trying to get out of my gala?" I was so hurt. 

But she was like, "This water main break happened." 

And then I opened Twitter and saw the news and I was like, "Okay, fine. You're allowed to not come to my gala." 

But what was really intense, 60% of the reservation was without running water and fire season was coming up and it was May. And they were like, "What are we going to do?" 

And so, I was like, "Okay, well, we're this tiny operating foundation." And I'm like, "I could set up a fund, we could do an MOU with tribal council, we could just leave it open." Because one thing that was happening, is there was a lot of articles, people were trying to blame whomever, put the blame on something, but there wasn't any agency. That was the other thing, is we were learning about this horrible thing that happened with our neighbors and there wasn't anything for people to do. And so, by creating a fund, we gave them something to do. 

They could donate to their neighbors when the feds and DIA were like, "I don't know, you have to finish this grant to do this infrastructure thing and it's going to take years for the repair to begin to happen." But in the meantime, people needed to flush some toilets, drink some water. They needed water every day. 

Abby: 

Yeah. 

Se-ah-dom: 

And providing that flexible funding directly to tribal council and leaving it totally discretionary, up to them, to what they prioritize the needs of their own home communities was, at the time, a very radical idea. But it's also very just practical. 

Abby: 

Yeah. 

Se-ah-dom: 

They knew this federal grant could pay for this, but not this vehicle. So what are we going to do? We're going to buy some vehicles. And that became, then, the inspiration for many of the other tribal funds that we now have. We have one with the Klamath Tribes and, coincidentally, a lot of it around water. Water as a resource. I think this is canary in a coal mine type of thing. This is the next fight, is access to clean water and the tribes are telling us that's what it is. 

Abby: 

Interesting. 

Se-ah-dom: 

Yeah. 

Abby: 

Beautiful. Incredible story. What a great story. We've already talked a lot about the model, what's different from traditional philanthropy, how you stay in it. Anything else you would note or stories you'd tell just about how Seeding Justice is different and, again, how it can be an inspiration for philanthropy in the future? 

Se-ah-dom: 

I think one really important lesson I've learned over the last... And I kind of knew this, being movement adjacent, is when we're talking about systems and systems change and trying new things, it's important to design utilizing a community and human-centered design approach. We saw it with Worker Relief. So when they were rolling out universal representation, the question that they asked of people who were in immigration court was, "How does this process make you feel?" 

And the answer was, "It makes me feel alone. It makes me feel like I don't know what's happening," they never knew what was going to happen next, "and hopeless." And so, their challenge was to build a system that made people feel embedded in community, informed about what just happened, what's happening now, what's going to happen next. And that made them feel hopeful. And if we wanted to, we could have built a universal representation program around the attorneys that we needed to be trained in order to fill this big gap. But instead, we went to the very people that were the intended beneficiaries. 

Now, if we take that and translate that to fields like reproductive justice, I think a lot of folks are focused on providers and clinics and keeping those rolling. But what if we took a pause and focused on the people who need that reproductive equity service? It's a very different way to approach understanding the needs and communities and the systems and institutions we need to build to serve them. And I think, for me, it's like getting back down to that basic human level of, these are the intended beneficiaries, here is how we listen deeply to them. And when we do community-led community-driven grant-making, it's not necessarily with just "experts" at the table, it's people who have that lived expertise that are the ones really deeply, I think, informing the design in a way that really embraces and reflects the love that we have for one another in community. It's very different than building systems to train attorneys or train doctors or just- 

Abby: 

For the cog in the wheel. 

Se-ah-dom: 

Exactly. 

Abby: 

Versus... Sorry, not that attorneys... They play very important parts in the system, but- 

Se-ah-dom: 

We have an attorney shortage. Yes. 

Abby: 

Exactly. 

Se-ah-dom: 

Be an attorney. Go to law school. 

Abby: 

For sure. 

Se-ah-dom: 

We love an attorney. 

Abby: 

But again, yes, designing for the end game, designing for the future we want to see as opposed to optimizing the cog that we currently have. 

Esperanza: 

I also feel like Seeding Justice has this very unsung model. That is one of the reasons that I love it. And so, I don't want to misstate it, but I'm going to try my best as board chair to explain it as I understand it. There are all of these committees where people with lived experience and expertise, around the state... So I love Oregon and I've always and only lived in rural Oregon. So I live in Central Oregon now and I used to live in Southern Oregon. And the rural experience is very different than the Portland Metro experience. And while I think that there is a lot of espoused care and understanding that dynamic exists, there is not a lot of work happening to bridge that gap, to make sure that voices, that there are real people in real communities from different parts of the state plugging in. 

And so, there's a real intentionality on our Seeding Justice board, for example, to have representation from all over the state. We have tribal nation members and leaders on the board now. We always have, since I've been on the board, there's always been some kind of tribal leadership from one of the big nine tribes here in Oregon. We have community leaders who are leading organizations who are a part of networks, some volunteers, some more official in more official capacities, all across the state. And so that gives us a different impression of what Oregonians are facing. The broad Oregonians, the Big O Oregonians, not just the Portland Metro-centric orientation. And outside of the board, which is how I think most people would interact, either you're getting a grant from a foundation or you're on the board or you're a staff. That's how people have generally interacted with foundations, traditionally. 

And in Seeding Justice, you can sit on a committee that approves grants. You can voluntarily sit on a committee that is making decisions about programming ideas and goals and designing entire grant-making processes. And so there are all these ways that sort of everyday people are getting to engage with the philanthropic process in an authentic way, in an honest way, and in a way that brings more integrity to the philanthropic process, because it is rooted in people, it's advised by people. And every board is their own board, but our board's job is not to override the expertise of those folks. Our job is to support the organization to do more of that, to explore how we can expand that experience for people, how to make sure that we're bringing in all of the people, all of the voices, how we're using our own networks to broaden the network. 

And so, I feel like Seeding Justice has this bigger, broader view of this very small but mighty state here on the Pacific Northwest, couched in between two very big sisters and a cousin. I think Washington is the cousin and California is the sister, I don't know, but it's some siblings and the cousins. And we are transforming what it looks like and means to actually care about an entire state, even though the institution might be housed in the Portland Metro area. 

Abby: 

I love it. Yeah. Thank you so much, both of you. Again, the goal of this podcast is also to help folks that are in movement, continue in the movement. And so I'd love a little bit of just reflection, perhaps, from both of you in terms of what's been challenging and what's kept... Yeah, exactly. 

Se-ah-dom: 

I'm like, "What's not been challenging?" 

Abby: 

I was going to say, if you can choose one, just one. Anyway, what's been challenging and what's kept you in it? 

Esperanza: 

As I said earlier, I was born and raised into the progressive movement. My parents named me Esperanza after a Maxim Gorky poem. So if you're a real communist nerd, you'll know, but it's about what the world will look like after a revolution. That is what I'm named after. And I tell people all the time, there's no other job I could be than to be an organizer. I couldn't go work for Nike. God bless Nike shoe, I love a tennis shoe, but I can never work for an institution that is built on exploitation of workers somewhere in the world. It's just not possible for me, because I am entrenched in a set of values that I live my life by and that I believe we need a world to align around. And that is a world that is focused on justice, it's about equity, it's about evolution that people are growing and changing. 

And in my own career, 15 years, I'm the first Black woman in the country to run a C3, C4 PAC focused on turning out voters of color. Here at my firm, we've done capacity building with dozens emerging C4 and C3 organizations from the national level to the very local level. And I am approaching midlife, I'm 47 years old, and I'm, for the first time, feeling like we are really in between a rock and a hard place in a way that I've never felt before. This administration is challenging every single piece of our movement. It's really causing a moment where folks are questioning, "What are the core values? What are actually the values that matter?" Where we're watching people who maybe thought it was cool after Obama said, "I'm an organizer," to come into this movement to realize this might not be the job for me if I actually have to stand on these principles when we are facing arrest and ICE and deportation. That it's getting real. 

And when the real happens, you can see who's real and who's fake. And that moment is happening. It's happening all the time in life, as we evolve, but it's happening right now in the movement. So because I'm a child of the movement, my mother was in something called the Third World Women's Alliance in the Bay, and these women have been meeting for 40, 50 years and they have these gatherings. So they've recently been having gatherings, they're octogenarian, some of them are in the 70s, 80s, they're older women. But they are still connected. They're still united in this community and that is what is giving me hope right now, that I am in relationship with you, with Se-ah-dom, with other people who've been doing this work for 20 years. And maybe we don't work on every project together, but there is a network, an interweaving of people who believe what we believe and we are not the crazy ones. We have righteousness on our side, we have the right values. 

Believing that people are generally good and we should take care of each other, that's how humans should be. Everything tells us. Christianity tells us that, every religion tells us that our job is to be good to each other. Native traditions tell us that, African traditions tell us that our work is in community. We carry this load together. And so, whenever we stray from that, whenever we start to believe in hyper independence, hyper individuality, hyper capitalism, we suffer. We are going to suffer under capitalism. And so, what I've been reminding myself of in this period, is that we have to take care of our... I'm older, I'm midlife, so we have to take care of ourselves and our bodies. These are the vehicles that we have to carry us through this life and we need to be in the fight for a long time. I'm reminded recently and reminding myself that your role in movement shifts over time. At one time, you will be a student of the revolution and then you will be a warrior of the revolution. 

And if you are lucky, you'll get to be in what I hope is my space now, which is transitioning to the wisdom of the revolution, that you begin to be a wisdom keeper and a sounding board as you age out. The work of being able to be on that front line, not because we can't, but because the only way to make room for new organizers is to get out of their way and let people innovate and be great. And the other thing I would just say is, at the end of the day, when you are feeling like it's all about you, you've ceased remembering what this work is about, which is that it's not about you, it's not about your ego, it's about the collective we. It's about what we can do together, it's about relationship, it's about love. So take care of yourself, take care of your family, take care of your community, and continue to ask yourself, how can you be of service every day, knowing that service is going to change as you change. As it should. 

Abby: 

Beautiful. Thank you, Esperanza. 

Se-ah-dom: 

I feel like this question, for me, might be just as much about me hearing the things I'm about to say as it is about really struggling. This last election, this time in my life, this role in leadership has been really challenging over the last year and a half. And I just keep reminding myself again some of the things that Esperanza mentioned too. What are my original instructions? Going back to those original instructions, original teachings in our culture around caring for ourselves and others. And I think one thing that also is resonating with me right now, is my uncle, his name is Larry Murillo, he worked in the field of public health, but I attended a gathering that he did. This was probably 20 years ago, I don't even remember. But in Portland, here at Portland State University, there is a Native Center. 

And my dad never finished college, but I feel like he should have an award of most colleges attended. He was at UofO, he was at PSU, he was at all these community colleges. I might be a close second, not going to lie. I've attended a lot of higher ed institutions, but never finished. I'm a proud college dropout. 

Abby: 

Love it. 

Se-ah-dom: 

There was this beautiful Native Center that was built at PSU and we were in this circle at the very end of this convening and he said, "I just want you to leave with this one thought. Your words are your prayers." The gathering that we were having was... My brother is autistic and it was for parents and families of kids with developmental and physical disabilities and how do we support one another? How do we help each other navigate, whether their children and siblings were school age or adults? How do we provide support for one another? 

And he was like, "Or this building, right? Our words are our prayers for the things that we want to create. This building was the result of people's prayers over a series of generations." And really, I do believe that about philanthropy and may the work that we do be the answer to the prayers that our communities have. I think, in its highest form, that's what philanthropy ought to be doing, is answering the prayers of our communities for the kinds of futures they want to build. And that's sometimes a lot of pressure and I did take some time this last year to recalibrate and, as a woman who is in the perimenopausal age- 

Abby: 

It's real. 

Se-ah-dom: 

Get my ass into the gym. 

Esperanza: 

[inaudible 00:46:22] over here. 

Se-ah-dom: 

Yes. Get my ass into the gym, lift some weights, demonstrate to my children health is something you have to build and maintain over your entire lifetime. And my dad's a person in long-term recovery and believing that you're worth saving, believing that you're worth the time to put in to be healthy, is also, some would say, a radical act. But I think it's also how we demonstrate that I and we are worth all the respect and humanity and really lean into our power. 

Abby: 

I love that. 

Esperanza: 

It's so interesting, because I don't remember when it was, maybe it was like 2021 or something, the Nap Ministry came out and I was like, "You're going to take a fucking nap? That's the plan? You're playing right now, sis. We're under this and you want to nap?" That was right when we had had Trump and I was like, "You sound so crazy." And then I started to get older and moving into this perimenopause and I recently had a movement elder tell me, "It's called menopause for a reason. And what you need to do is take a pause and re-evaluate what is happening in your life." 

And I think, as a movement, we have begun to evolve into, what does it mean to embrace rest? I think we hear about it a lot, actually, from movement organizers. There's emerging grant-making around making sure that people can have sabbatical resources or just have a space. I think there's another organization recently just hosted a weekend for women of color to come to sisters and just hang out for a weekend in an unstructured way and have some conversation. And I think, while I make fun of rest, the truth is that every warrior will need a rest at some time. And I think that the madness of the current political moment, the frenetic energy of it, the lack of logic, the speed and pacing at which it's calling on our nervous systems to react, is part of a larger strategy to wear us down. 

And so I think, as we think about what this next period requires, both in philanthropy in the movement and to remember that none of these pieces, neither philanthropy nor movement, work without human beings who can stand up and withstand, and stand in their perseverance to make it through. And I think this moment is calling on all of us to rethink rest, to rethink what it means to be still. 

Abby: 

Yeah. 

Esperanza: 

To just be still in the madness and hold your ground. And for us to remember that, I think at the end of the day, our work is to do exactly what this institution is named. It's to seed justice. We may not see the fruits of that justice in our lifetime, but if we continue to seed the ground, to seed our movement, to invest in people, we know that arc of the rainbow bends towards justice. And while we may struggle and toil right now, which we are going to struggle, we are struggling and we will be struggling. At the end of the day, there will be some harvest for our children and our children's children to enjoy. And I hope that's enough to get us up every day. 

Abby: 

I love it. Thank you both so much. Thank you for your prayers and philanthropy. Thanks for these radical acts that are practical acts. I think we have so many, now, new soundbites for Seeding Justice here. I love sharing this load with you, ladies. This has been a pleasure, a privilege. Thank you so much. 

Esperanza: 

Thank you for inviting us on. 

Se-ah-dom: 

Thank you. 

Esperanza: 

This was really fun. 

Nancy: 

Can We Talk About...? is a podcast by Philanthropy Northwest, written and produced by Aya Tsuruta and Emily Daman, with production support by Podfly, and graphic design by Asha Hossein. Our episodes this season are hosted by TGP Senior Advisors Katie Hong, Robin Martin, and Abby Sarmac. You can find more information on this episode including guest bios and show notes at thegivingpractice.org. And if you have a topic that you think Philanthropy should be talking about more, let us know by emailing "hello" at thegivingpractice.org. A special thanks to our Philanthropy Northwest and Giving Practice teams for their thought partnership, and the Ford Foundation for making this project possible. I'm Nancy Sanabria and we'll see you next time.