Reimagining Philanthropy in Times of Uncertainty

Lately, I’ve been feeling something I don’t usually let settle in—fear. Not for myself, but for our partners, for the nonprofits we care deeply about, and for the people they serve. The truth is, we’re all standing on unstable ground right now. The shifting policy landscape, executive decisions threatening essential programs, and a disintegrating trust in our systems have left funders and community leaders asking, What now?

For those of us in philanthropy, we often talk about “transformation” as something aspirational, even poetic. But the transformation we’re seeing today feels unfamiliar and uncertain. I’ve heard it described as a battle, and I agree. It feels like we’re at war with fear, scarcity, and the erosion of institutions that hold our communities together. The ones on the front lines are immigrants, nonprofits, churches, schools, and healthcare systems.

I’ve been asking myself, if we aren’t positioned to give more money, what else can we offer?

For programs and organizations facing millions in budget cuts, a transactional grant of a few thousand dollars doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel like enough because it isn’t enough. What I keep coming back to is that we have something more to offer that can be as valuable as funding. And that’s stronger relationships, solidarity, and a unified presence.

It may sound idealistic, but it’s rooted in practice. We have supported our partners not only through funding but also by listening, strategizing, and providing spaces to breathe and be honest. Now, those relationships that took years to build are our greatest asset.

I know that I don’t have all the answers. Like many of you, I sometimes feel numb to what’s happening in our sector and its impact on our communities. The nonprofit playbook we’ve relied on won’t work at this time. One thing I do know is that if we’re going to survive this—and more importantly, if we’re going to help our partners thrive—we need to reframe how we show up for each other.

Funding can no longer be just a transaction. It must represent an act of moral clarity.

What would it look like for funders to be known not just for our dollars but for our presence? For our courage to sit with uncertainty? For our willingness to say, “I may not be able to fix this, but I will not let you carry it alone”?

At SJF, we’re exploring ways to do that. Specifically, we’re looking at ways to host small, honest gatherings that provide safe, unstructured spaces to breathe. We want to make ourselves available, not to fix what feels unfixable, but to listen and even cry with someone if that’s what’s needed. We’ve been inspired by our partners, by their resilience, stories, and sheer will to continue despite everything. Their courage inspires us to be braver, too.

Furthermore, I want to extend a heartfelt invitation to our partners: please tell us what you need. How can we show up for you, not just as funders, but as companions? And to my colleagues across philanthropy, I ask you to consider what solidarity looks like in your work. Can we be sounding boards, space-holders, advocates, and allies? Can we offer hope not just as sentiment, but as action?

The moment we’re in demands courage, collaboration, and above all, love. Let’s meet that moment together, not just as witnesses to this change, but as participants in shaping what comes next.