A Note From Our CEO: “As the structures we once took for granted burn to the ground, we are presented with a rare opening.”
I’ve been thinking a lot about healing and whether it is truly possible in a moment like this. As Prentis Hemphill writes in What It Takes To Heal, “Healing is the process, often lifelong, of restoring and reawakening the capacities for safety, belonging, and dignity on the other side of trauma.” That vision feels both urgent and far away because, for so many of us, the trauma has never stopped.
From the state-sanctioned violence of immigration enforcement and the carceral system to the attacks on trans people, we are living through a period of layered and relentless harm.It is not abstract. It is personal. It lives in our communities, in our neighborhoods, and too often in the bodies of our children.
For me, there is a particular kind of heartbreak in watching our young people absorb so much fear and instability before they even have the chance to live. As Hemphill reminds us, “It’s hard to heal when you’re still being hurt.”
President & CEO
Unfortunately, none of this is new. We are a nation built on stolen land and born out of genocide. Our economic system is rooted in stolen labor and violence, with deep ties to American Slavery. The question of belonging — who counts, who is protected, who is disposable — has shaped this country since its founding, long before the 1868 ratification of the 14th Amendment and the beginning of birthright citizenship.
When I hear people say that the solution is to shore up democracy so that the abuses of this moment can never happen again, I understand the instinct. But for many communities, American democracy has never delivered on its promise. In this moment, as the structures we once took for granted burn to the ground, we are presented with a rare opening.
Out of the ashes, we must build something better.
Hemphill writes, “Underneath our current reality is a future waiting to be conjured.” The question is whether we are brave enough to conjure it. How do we move beyond self-preservation and toward collective liberation? How do we create the conditions where healing is possible because harm is no longer constant? And what role can philanthropy play in making that shift?
We have seen this kind of conjuring before. In the 1960s, the East Bay birthed the Black Panther Party, and a community denied justice for too long began to imagine and construct an alternate future on its own terms. I came of age in the city that was shaped by their vision.
Through community schools and free breakfasts, Black Oaklanders met immediate needs while advancing a bold political vision. Their grassroots leadership helped transform despair into power, isolation into solidarity, and survival into strategy. Their conjuring came from the bottom up. Ours must, as well.
In this moment, I believe that philanthropy has a critical role to play — not as the architect, but as a partner. We must move with humility and trust. We must follow, resource, and amplify our community partners: the leaders, creators, and dreamers of today and tomorrow.
This means providing sustained support rather than fleeting attention. It means investing in long-term power building, not short-term projects. If healing is about restoring our shared capacity for safety, belonging, and dignity, then philanthropy’s responsibility is clear. We must help build the conditions for those capacities to flourish, starting with the communities closest to the trauma. It’s my privilege to lead EBCF and partner with all of you in this work.
Underneath this moment of harm, there is a future waiting to be conjured. Our task is not simply to believe in it. Our task is to build it. Together.