Pevita Pearce
For decades, the landscape of American philanthropy has been dominated by a "top-down" paradigm. Large, institutional foundations—often governed by private boards and insulated from the communities they serve—have set the terms of engagement. They define the problems, dictate the metrics of success, and control the flow of capital. Yet, moving beneath the surface of these institutional giants is a vibrant, decentralized ecosystem of women’s funds, community-led giving circles, and Indigenous-led networks.
These organizations are not merely smaller versions of their larger counterparts; they are structurally different. By shifting the decision-making power from the boardroom to the neighborhood, they are proving that philanthropy is not a natural law, but a set of design choices—choices that can be reclaimed by the people most affected by systemic inequity.
The Evolution of Participatory Grantmaking: A Chronology
The shift toward community-led funding did not happen overnight. It is the result of over fifty years of deliberate efforts to democratize capital.
- 1972: The Ms. Foundation for Women is established by Gloria Steinem, Patricia Carbine, Letty Cottin Pogrebin, and Marlo Thomas. It marks a pivotal moment, representing the first multi-issue national women’s fund designed to bring marginalized voices into the decision-making process.
- 1984: The Boston Women’s Fund is founded, pioneering a model in Massachusetts that prioritizes local grassroots leadership and participatory allocation.
- 1990: Native Americans in Philanthropy (NAP) is formed to address the historical exclusion of Indigenous communities from the broader philanthropic sector.
- 2007–2017: A decade of explosive growth for "giving circles"—groups of individual donors who pool resources—as they triple in number across the United States.
- 2018: The Ms. Foundation launches a landmark five-year strategic plan, dedicating $25 million specifically to organizations led by and for women of color.
- 2023–2025: A period of intensified focus on "trust-based" philanthropy, characterized by the abolition of written grant applications and the rise of "Requests for Conversations," as seen in the Boston Women’s Fund’s refined operational model.
Challenging the Status Quo: Why Traditional Models Fail
In the conventional philanthropic model, the power dynamic is clear: the funder is the protagonist, and the grantee is the petitioner. This relationship is often characterized by high barriers to entry, including exhaustive application forms, rigid reporting requirements, and short-term funding cycles. Implicit in this structure is the assumption that the funder needs protection from the grantee—that the recipient is a risk to be managed rather than a partner to be trusted.
However, community-led funds operate on the inverse assumption. They view the proximity to a problem as an asset, not a liability. When the people closest to the issues—such as grassroots leaders in Boston or Native activists in the Southwest—are given control of the purse, the core questions of philanthropy are re-answered. Who is trusted? Who carries the risk? Who makes the final decision?
At the Boston Women’s Fund, the "Request for Conversation" model is a direct response to the administrative burden that cripples small organizations. By eliminating the traditional grant application, they allow leaders to spend their time doing the work, not writing about it. Decisions are made by an all-volunteer committee of community members who interview prospective grantees, fostering a sense of accountability that is horizontal rather than vertical.
Supporting Data: The Case for Collective Giving
The efficacy of these models is supported by a growing body of data. Research conducted by the Collective Giving Research Group reveals that between 2007 and 2017, the number of giving circles rose to approximately 1,500, collectively distributing over $1.29 billion. Perhaps most tellingly, these members are not just "checkbook donors"; they are strategic, proactive, and deeply engaged.
Furthermore, the Ms. Foundation’s transition to a portfolio where 90 percent of grantees are led by women and girls of color demonstrates that structural changes lead to demographic shifts in funding. In contrast, the data on Indigenous funding remains a sobering reminder of why this movement is necessary. A study conducted by Native Americans in Philanthropy and Candid found that while Native communities make up roughly 2 percent of the U.S. population, they received a meager 0.4 percent of total annual foundation funding between 2002 and 2016. This instability is not accidental; it is a symptom of a system that rarely prioritizes long-term relationships with marginalized communities.
Official Responses and Strategic Initiatives
Institutional foundations have begun to acknowledge these disparities, leading to new, albeit cautious, partnerships. The Seeds of Connection initiative, launched by Native Americans in Philanthropy in 2025, serves as a bridge. By awarding $300,000 in challenge grants to community foundations, NAP is forcing the sector to confront its own hoarding of wealth. These grants come with strict matching requirements, compelling established foundations to redirect their own capital toward Native-led initiatives.
This strategy of "shared risk" is crucial. When a committee or a circle—rather than a single, detached program officer—makes a funding decision, the pressure of judgment is distributed. It allows for the support of startup, grassroots efforts that might be deemed "too risky" by the rigid risk-assessment models of traditional foundations. As the Boston Women’s Fund demonstrated in July 2025, when they announced over $475,700 in grants to 19 organizations, the impact of these funds is growing, even if the individual grant amounts remain modest compared to national giants.
Implications: A New Moral Compass for Philanthropy
The implications of this shift are profound. When a fund is accountable to the neighborhoods it serves, it is less susceptible to "donor drift"—the tendency for a foundation to prioritize the whims of its largest donor over the needs of the community. This creates a "sideways" accountability, where the moral obligation of the funder is to the people doing the work on the ground.
However, there is a distinct danger in tokenizing these efforts. If large, multi-billion-dollar foundations cite the success of small, grassroots funds as evidence that "the system is working," it serves as a form of moral cover rather than genuine change. The goal of the current movement is not to replace large-scale philanthropy with small-scale alternatives, but to force a fundamental transformation in how all capital is deployed.
The lessons offered by women’s funds, giving circles, and Indigenous-led networks are not about charity; they are about power. They demonstrate that trust is a structural design choice. They show that when you remove the barriers of entry—the forms, the gatekeepers, and the top-down mandates—you unlock a level of efficacy that traditional models simply cannot replicate.
As we look toward the future of the sector, the question is no longer whether these models work—the data and the community outcomes speak for themselves. The question is whether the philanthropic establishment has the courage to cede its control. The organizations described here are not asking for a seat at the table; they have built their own tables, and they are demonstrating that when the purse changes hands, the world changes with it.
For a sector that has spent years issuing statements of principle regarding equity and inclusion, these grassroots funds offer something far more valuable: a working, replicable, and transparent blueprint for a more democratic future. The rules of philanthropy are not natural laws, and it is time for the architecture of giving to reflect the diversity and brilliance of the communities it claims to serve.
Reynand Wu
Ammar Sabilarrohman
