It’s been almost a year since I stepped down as CEO of the California Wellness Foundation, giving me ample time to reflect on my tenure. I remember taking over the helm in 2014 with a long “to-do” checklist. I arrived with over 20 years of observing, working and leading in the philanthropic sector as a corporate foundation executive director, board trustee, philanthropic advisor and program officer. Philanthropy was my life’s work, and I loved the crazy notion of doing what my cynical brother described as “making a living giving away other folks’ money” for the greater good.
But as much as I loved being part of the sector and was inspired by the work, I had also been keeping a mental “black book” as I observed missed opportunities, risk-averse leadership and a resource-rich ecosystem bogged down in unnecessary bureaucracy. At times, it seemed the sector had difficulty in delivering even on its most basic mission — getting money quickly into the hands of those who needed it the most.
In taking over the helm at Cal Wellness, a statewide health conversion foundation founded in 1992, I had no illusions I would or could transform the entire philanthropic sector. I did fantasize in those early days about using the opportunity as a laboratory of sorts in addressing some of the issues I had been tracking.
I had a lot to work with: a state jam packed with amazing nonprofit leaders and advocates, $1 billion in the bank, a foundation with a legacy of accomplishments and goodwill, a smart, talented, hard-working staff, and an engaged board that wasn’t shy about giving me a swift but supportive kick in the behind when needed. Together, we accomplished a lot, and I left the foundation satisfied that it was a stronger organization than when I arrived.
Still, reflecting back, I wish I had led with a more of a disruptive attitude. I wish I had pushed back more on the status quo instead of just going after the low-hanging, incremental opportunities for change. To be fair, there was that unexpected 2016 national election, a global pandemic and yet another racial reckoning moment for America in 2020. But now, I’m just whining.
What might I have done differently or better? The list is a long one, but here are three items on my “could’ve, would’ve, should’ve” list.
1. Set term limits for program staff. This isn’t a new idea. Ford and Hewlett are two of the best-known foundations where term limits have been a long-standing practice. This should be a sector standard, and one I wish I had implemented during my tenure. I’ve had the pleasure of working with exceptional program colleagues at Cal Wellness, and also at the Surdna Foundation, where I served on the board. I started out as a program officer and remember thinking the job had to be one of the best-kept secrets. Getting paid to be in community, learning about emerging issues, meeting incredible thought leaders, and pushing much-needed resources out to the community. Doesn’t get any better than that.
But the program team also wields tremendous power, serving as the gatekeepers for foundations in determining who gets that painful decline letter and who gets in the funding pipeline. As a CEO or board member, I only saw the grants that programs wanted to fund. While I had full confidence that the program team were thoughtful in their due diligence and strived to be fair and open-minded in their recommendations, it’s tough to counter implicit biases. As a program officer, I never wanted to discontinue funding my grantees. Just as in hiring, the likeability factor is always present. We tend to fund people we like, and who are like us in backgrounds and lived experiences. I always thought a good test for a good program officer is someone who would fund a person who is a well-meaning asshole doing amazing work.
Term limits would create a culture of positive disruption. It would refresh the lens through which new organizations might get a shot at funding. It would provide more staffing opportunities for groups traditionally underrepresented at the funders’ table (e.g., trans, disabled, Native Americans). And it would help in managing hiring expectations around tenure. Those seeking a lifetime gig need not apply. Term limits are also a must for trustees, and not such a bad idea for CEOs, either.
2. Make 10% the new 5%. The math never worked for me. Private foundations, whose mission is to serve and deploy resources to the community, are only legally required to give out 5% of their assets annually (excluding staffing and overhead costs) to the community, while holding on to the other 95%. This outdated formula has been in place since the 1969 Tax Reform Act. It’s time for philanthropy to give communities a raise by changing the giving floor to at least 10%. Endowments will be smaller, but communities will be stronger.
There are several strong forces at play to encourage CEOs and boards to maintain this status quo. These include: financial modeling of doomsday predictions, perpetuity concerns, bragging rights over the size of endowments, and a compensation system for investment advisors that often rewards market returns over social impact or increased giving.
At Cal Wellness, we made progress against the status quo. We made annual incremental payouts above the 5% payout, pushed for a 100% mission alignment of our investments, got more dollars in the hands of diverse managers, and used program-related investments (PRIs) to get much-needed capital to under-resourced communities through loans and equity investments. But I could have pushed for more. And the sector needs to be leading the way.
The Initiative to Accelerate Charitable Giving, supported by Cal Wellness and several other major foundations such as Ford, Kresge, Hewlett, Kellogg and others, is a step in the right direction in unlocking more philanthropic resources. As Cal Wellness board member Arnold Perkins reminded me at nearly every board meeting, “This is the people’s money!”
3. Reimagine foundation advocacy. I’m not certain foundations can be fully effective by simply focusing on grantmaking. We need more tools in our toolkit, and I wish I had experimented with more of them during my Cal Wellness tenure, especially in the public policy arena.
Being more intentional in influencing what happens in Washington and statehouses across the nation is becoming a necessity, given both the public dollars at stake and real threats to our democratic values. The stakes are high in the outcome of the November election for philanthropy fulfilling its mission and the essential role of civil society.
At Cal Wellness, we beefed up our communications and government affairs muscle, filed amicus briefs, took positions on ill-advised executive orders, supported several c4 arms of our grantees, and mobilized Black foundation trustees across the state, culminating in a meeting with the governor. All good moves — but I still feel we could have been more of an advocacy force.
I’m intrigued with efforts like Heising-Simons’ Action Fund supporting legislation aligned with its work in climate policy and early child care. The Inatai Foundation is another relatively new model to watch in terms of how it leverages its status as a c4 entity in fulfilling its philanthropic mission.
One example of where a Cal Wellness proactive legislative agenda might have made a difference was in gun violence prevention, one of the foundation’s legacy focus areas. Joining with others in pushing for sensible national legislation while continuing to support on-the-ground advocates might have helped move the dial.
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I leave the CEO role optimistic and encouraged by the new class of leaders coming into the philanthropic sector with their own “black book” of ideas. The ones I will be watching with interest include my successor Richard Tate at Cal Wellness, Don Chen at Surdna Foundation, Joanna Jackson at Weingart Foundation, Tonya Allen at McKnight Foundation, Miguel Santana at the California Community Foundation, and Nichole June Maher at the Inatai Foundation. All are leading, testing and pushing back on the status quo.
Judy Belk is the former President and CEO of the California Wellness Foundation and a former trustee of the Surdna Foundation. She is currently teaching, coaching and writing a book, “Ten Miles from the White House: a collection of personal essays on race, place, and justice.” Get in touch at www.judybelkwriter.com.
