Pearl Lujan and Abby Sarmac

Pearl
What was the Indigenous way of women caring for their communities to begin with? And how can we return to that simpler approach? We've made it so complicated in philanthropy. Does it need to be this way?
 

Abby

That's right.
 

Pearl

Can we bring this back to its roots?
 

Nancy (Host)

From The Giving Practice at Philanthropy Northwest this is Can we talk about? a project aimed at normalizing 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 vary significantly depending on the context — whether it's based on place, issue, area, or community served. In a world where our contexts are constantly shifting, we’re asking guests to practice vulnerability, explore sticky topics, and look for learning. What we ask of you is to do the same.

Abby
Okay, hi Pearl, here we go. Hi everyone, and welcome to Can we talk about…?, a podcast project from Philanthropy Northwest that aims to normalize the messiness of leading for racial equity in philanthropy. I’m Abigail Sarmac—Abby—a senior advisor with The Giving Practice at Philanthropy Northwest, and I’m also your host for this episode. I’m incredibly happy to be joined by Pearl Lujan from the Kindle Project's Indigenous Women’s Flow Fund. I’ve learned so much from Pearl throughout my four years with this fund, because, along with being a host for this podcast, I’m also a co-storyteller with Pearl as a donor and partner in the fund. I’m really looking forward to this conversation today. But first…

Let’s start with something I always bring up when I engage with Pearl and the Kindle Flow Fund: The Indigenous Women’s Flow Fund, which is really about moving out of dominant spaces and into Indigenous country. It’s about moving into Indigenous space, which isn’t just about who I am, but about who my people are, where I’m from, and where my feet are touching the land. It’s about the land my feet are on, and the land that comes from my ancestors. So, to give a bit of that context…

I am the granddaughter of Filipinos, so I am an Asian American, Filipino American, based in Portland, Oregon—on the ancestral lands of the Clackamas, Siletz, and Grand Ronde peoples, including the Cayuse, Umatilla, and Walla Walla. Pearl, please share more about yourself. Who are you, and where are you coming from?

Pearl
Thanks, Abby! It’s great to be here with you. I love how you’ve grounded us by focusing on where our feet are landing today. And today, I’m grateful that my feet are on new territory in Salt Lake City, with the Great Salt Lake behind me and the mountains beside me. I honor and respect this land.

I’m really happy to be on this journey with you that we've been on for almost five years now. Since 2020, we've had the privilege of building this beautiful relationship. My background is that I’m a storyteller on behalf of everyone at the Kindle Project, specifically speaking about the Indigenous Women’s Flow Fund, and it’s a real honor to be a storyteller. I know storytelling has a long lineage in Indigenous cultures, so I take that responsibility very seriously.

I was born in Paiute territory and grew up only knowing one side of my identity—as a Ukrainian settler in Canada. It wasn’t until I was 40 years old that I discovered my father’s side of the family and learned I had Indigenous and Mexican roots from the Southwest. I’ve sometimes wondered if this was my ancestors’ way of guiding me to this realization and helping me grow in ways I didn’t even know at the time. So, yeah, it’s really exciting to be here with you, Abby.

Abby
Beautiful. Thank you, Pearl. So, tell us a bit about the Kindle Project and the Indigenous Women’s Flow Fund. Maybe even start by grounding us in why Kindle and the Flow Fund exist. Could you provide some context around the state of funding in Indigenous communities?

Pearl
Yeah, thanks, Abby. When the Indigenous Women’s Flow Fund was conceptualized, Kindle was already an existing organization—a woman of color-led organization—and we were looking at the situation for Indigenous peoples in philanthropy. Many studies have found that the rates are pretty dismal for Indigenous people in philanthropy, with less than 1% of all philanthropic dollars in North America, especially in the U.S., going to Indigenous organizations. Of those dollars, very few reach Indigenous-led organizations, and even fewer go to Indigenous women’s organizations. And of the money that is given, it is often earmarked for housing or large infrastructure projects, with very little trickling down to where it’s truly needed.

We reviewed different reports and examined the challenges Indigenous women and their organizations face, such as short-term, project-based funding, lack of capacity, and limited access to donor networks. The administrative requirements are heavy, and we asked ourselves: How can we really change this? The answer came, in part, from an amazing donor—a woman who worked with Kindle to help us think about how to be the seed of change. How could we be the catalyst for this shift? What would it look like to do that within a flow funding model?

Flow funding was passed down from Marion Weber and the Rockefeller Foundation to Kindle, asking us: Can you take this model and grow it? Can you make this something meaningful for marginalized communities? So, we saw it as the right time for change in philanthropy. We were witnessing a rise in diversity, equity, and inclusion efforts among organizations, companies, and foundations. We were seeing the growth of collective giving, giving circles, and the increasing recognition of Indigenous-led organizations—emphasizing the importance of Indigenous-led funding and the role of Indigenous funders.

We asked ourselves, where is there still a gap? One area was the need to ensure that Indigenous women could participate in philanthropy without having to take on full-time roles as program officers at foundations or bear the burden of trying to fit into organizations that might not be prepared for their leadership. How could we keep them connected to their communities, doing what they do best, while also giving them full agency and control over how to serve their communities in the ways they know best? How could we trust their wisdom and knowledge, while also finding donors who are willing to engage with us in this space and unlearn alongside us? This is how we envisioned the transformation of philanthropy.

Abby
I love that, Pearl. One thing that struck me when I began engaging with the flow fund model is that it’s really about democratizing the idea of who can be a philanthropist. Who gets to be a philanthropist? It’s not just the white man in a boardroom, right? We can all be philanthropists. I love how the fund is structured to make that possible for Native women. For our listeners who may not be familiar with it, Pearl, could you explain a bit more about what flow funding actually is?

Pearl
Sure. Flow funding is a model where our donors come in with a trust-based approach. These are donors who are committed to unlearning and learning with us, not just giving us money, but engaging in the process and being part of a transformation. The money they donate goes into a shared pot, and then Indigenous women—who were not selected by Kindle, but who self-select through their own process—are the ones who decide where the funds go. Initially, there were five women, and now we have three who are part of the process. They commit for four years, and it started virtually in 2020, during COVID. But basically, they are entrusted with giving away the money that donors have contributed, trusting that they know how to use it to benefit their communities. That’s the core of the flow funding model.

Abby
That’s definitely how I experienced it as well. Literally, the process involves donating money and staying engaged, but without decision-making power. It’s about accompanying the process, not taking charge. We can dive into more details about that as well.

Pearl
Exactly. And Kindle really sits as the intermediary between those two. We’ll talk about that more when we discuss challenges later, but basically, it’s about knowing that the women chosen were not selected because they were donor darlings or well-known figures in philanthropy. They were chosen because they have demonstrated a deep, long-term commitment to their communities, with strong knowledge and deep roots. So, flow funding as a model is intentionally not administration-heavy, data-driven, or outcomes-oriented. We don’t ask for applications and require very minimal reporting. In many ways, it reflects elements of trust-based philanthropy, but it also goes back to the Indigenous way of Indigenous women caring for their communities. How can we return to that simpler approach? We’ve made philanthropy so complicated. Does it really need to be that way?

Abby
That’s right.

Pearl
Can we take this back to its roots?

Abby
I love that.

Pearl
Exactly. It’s so powerful, right? Literally, the model is led by how communities care for each other naturally.

Abby
Yes! And in a way, there’s no handbook for it, because it’s just how my family lives every day. Right? Like, I know this person, and I’ve known their mother and grandmother, so I know that I probably shouldn’t give them money. But with this other person, I know I can. It’s that simple, and that’s something really unique to this model.

Okay, so Pearl, before we move deeper into our conversation, is there anything else you want to share about Kindle’s model and approach to philanthropy?

Pearl
Yes. Kindle, and specifically the flow funding model, tends to disrupt current philanthropic models that center scarcity, competition, extractivism, and tokenism. We are looking at the harm those models have caused to Indigenous communities, honoring that history, and asking: How can we not repeat that? How can we instead uphold the rights outlined in the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples in our philanthropic practice? What does that mean for us as an intermediary? We’ll talk more about that later, but so far, within the fund, we’ve distributed over $2.5 million to 32 Indigenous-led organizations and 20 Indigenous individuals, all of whom are also Indigenous and have received direct grants, thanks to one of our very innovative donors who chose to support individuals as well as organizations.

Abby
I love that. It’s so important to highlight the ability to connect with Kindle—or with you, Pearl—to learn more about how to give directly to individuals. Because, guess what? It can actually be done.

Pearl
It’s not that hard! Exactly.

Abby
Another mind-blown moment for me with Kindle and the flow fund. Anyway, I’m glad you mentioned disrupting current philanthropic models because that’s really what drew me to Kindle and the Indigenous Women’s Flow Fund in the first place. I started working with the fund at the height of the pandemic. It was such a difficult time, and I was desperate for a different way of doing things. I mean, we were all struggling in 2020—dealing with COVID, the rise of respiratory disease, the murder of George Floyd, and the horrific way he died. We were also facing fires in the Northwest at that time, right? I was literally stuck inside my living room, around an air filter with my family. We could barely breathe. It was grim. And I knew there had to be a different way of being, a different way of doing philanthropy. I was searching for a community to learn with, and that’s when I met Mary Fifield, an advisor to one of the early donors to the fund, and someone who knew Sadaf, the founder of Kindle. She invited me into the group, into the flow fund, because this group was intentionally trying to find a better way of doing things. The world was just so incredibly heavy, and I knew there had to be another way. I was looking for that new path, and I was searching for a community to grow and learn with.

I remember the first moment I knew the flow fund was going to be different. I had to write a letter. It wasn’t enough to just rub elbows with the right people. I actually had to apply to donate. That was different. Right?

Pearl
When did donors ever have to fill out application processes?

Abby
Exactly. That was something I just knew would be different. This was going to be different from any giving circle or any traditional institutional philanthropy I had ever been involved in. This was going to be a whole new approach.

Oh, and then there’s another moment I’ll mention, which is how I got to know you, Pearl. I remember the first time I heard you speak during one of the virtual meetings with the donors. I was absolutely captivated. I don’t remember if you mentioned this earlier, Pearl, but one of the key roles that Kindle plays—and that you play—is as a cultural translator, an interlocutor, right? You act as a storyteller between two worlds: the Indigenous world and the dominant philanthropic world.

That ability to take the time to be in a space where we could hear, quote-unquote, “reports” done in such a meaningful way, was powerful. Instead of simply submitting a report and waiting for a meeting, we were actually learning together in the process. I think that’s important for our listeners to understand—it’s not just about the report; it’s about the relationship and the way we’re sharing and learning together.

Your role as that translator, as a bridge between two cultures, was critical. It allowed that deep learning to happen in a way that felt true to the community.

Pearl
Yeah, you speak to that so wonderfully, Abby, because that was one of the key elements we wanted to avoid: turning the Indigenous cohort into an experiment or subject to donor relationships too early. In the first year, they didn’t have to be in direct contact with donors. Instead, they asked me to be the go-between. When we met with the Indigenous women in our circles, it felt so good. We would always begin with a prayer, and we’d hear the language spoken by one of the women. We decided to meet around the full moon, honor our plant sisters, and think of the organizations we’re supporting as seeds—how are we nourishing the soil of the communities we’re giving to? There was this beautiful narrative unfolding. My role was to translate that for the donors, at least until we built the trust needed for year three and beyond, when we could come together more directly. For me, that’s when the concept of rematriation became the overarching theme. It’s not just about what we fund—like land back, cedar matriation, or maternal health—but also how we fund. It’s about returning to the native feminine way of caring for community, overseeing resources, working in ceremony, in circle, in trust, reciprocity, and in sync with the cycles of the seasons.

I had to unlearn a lot to understand how prayer and ceremony could fit into grant-making. How could I talk to donors about this? Would they understand? But you, as donors, listened with respect, curiosity, and a genuine desire to learn. You were willing to be transformed by the process. I want to honor the way you showed up for us, with openness, a beautiful smile, and laughter. It made my role so much easier. There was nothing intimidating about it—just beautiful presence.

Abby
I love that. Thank you for saying that. Let’s shift a bit and talk about learning and growth. What have we learned? What have you learned? Because one of the core principles of trust-based philanthropy, as many of our listeners may know, is this ethos of relationship—not just relationships with people around you, but with the earth itself. There’s this sense of interconnectedness. And then there’s also the rigor of constantly learning, not just individually, but with others. So, bringing some of that rigor to our conversation today, what have we learned? What challenges have we faced, and how have we grown from them?

Pearl
That’s a great question, Abby. There’s been so much learning and unlearning, as I mentioned earlier. Some things were very simple, like unlearning and questioning everything I thought I knew about philanthropy. I had managed a major corporate fund for Lush Cosmetics, the Charity Pot fund, and I had done all types of philanthropy—from government funding to corporate donations. But when I came to Kindle, I had to unlearn how I operated in those systems. For example, why don’t we have paperwork ahead of time? How do we know we can trust an organization we’ve never worked with before? There were moments when I was challenged, like when we hadn’t received a report, or we heard nothing from the director. Was this fostering accountability—or the opposite? What was our role in this process? There was a lot of tension.

But then, I learned that elders were running some of these projects on the side of their own livelihoods. These were people on the ground, working to solve real issues, like the epidemic of missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls. We weren’t dealing with people who had the time to write lengthy grant applications. That’s when I realized it’s about trust. Time and time again, our Indigenous women cohort would tell me, "I just went to visit them. I walked by the place we funded every day." They were out in the field, seeing the impact with their own eyes, in a way that was much more grounded than reading a report.

That was a challenge for me—it challenged the idea that a written report somehow makes me more knowledgeable about an organization than those working directly with it. I had to let go of that mentality. It was about trust, relationship, and real-time engagement. And it also challenged the idea of justifying why we should fund Indigenous communities. I think we’ve moved beyond that. Donors need to do their own work in understanding the importance of funding Indigenous communities. It shouldn’t fall to the grantees to justify themselves.

We also had to think about how to free up more time for grantees to do the important work they’re doing, rather than constantly making them “beg” for funding. I remember recently making one of the largest grants ever to an Indigenous organization. When I called to ask a few questions, they were blown away. They said, “So someone actually sees the work we’re doing and is honoring us without us having to beg or prove ourselves?”

That really resonated with me. And it connects to something I heard in another podcast episode with Estakio Beltran, who said, “Giving is supposed to feel good for both the giver and the receiver.” I love that.

In the traditional, often hyper-patriarchal, masculine model of philanthropy, giving can feel extractive, competitive, and even dehumanizing. How can we reclaim a way of giving that feels good—for the donor and for the community—while still fostering accountability? If we want to fund areas we’re unfamiliar with, we don’t just Google organizations; we rely on Indigenous nominators from those communities to tell us where we should focus. We honor their time, pay them fair honorariums, and give them the respect they deserve.

These are just some of the ways the work has challenged what I thought I knew as a philanthropic professional. When I came to the fund, I had to let go of that professional identity and step into my own voice as a storyteller, able to walk in both worlds.

Abby
Oh my goodness, Pearl, that was so incredibly insightful. So much of what you just said resonates with me. And, just thinking back to my own experience here, I really love that Beltran quote about how it’s supposed to feel good to give and receive. How do we, as humans, feel good? For me, at least when I reflect on it, I realize that I feel most resilient and strong when I’m with my people—when I’m with my community, with people who know me and see me. So if you translate that into philanthropy, how can you truly feel like you are one with the communities you’re working with? That sense of belonging is so important. And I think that’s where the Flow Fund has been so powerful and different.

For those who are looking for something very practical, I think it comes down to unlearning some of the old patterns. For me, it really boiled down to time. Yes, time—just like with our best relationships. We invest time with our partners, our children, our neighbors. But when it comes to institutional philanthropy, there are strict structures around time. That can feel so daunting. There’s this pressure: I’ve got quarterly board meetings, I have to get through the cycle, I have X million dollars I need to distribute. But then you have to ask yourself: What’s driving that? If you know relationship is transformative, where should you be investing your time? Do you want to truly fund transformative work, or do you just need to get money out the door? It’s both, right? Of course, it’s both.

Pearl
That time piece is so important, and it's one of the challenges we’ve faced as well. Being an intermediary when everyone is calling for Indigenous-led everything is tricky. There was a time, in the beginning, when one of the Indigenous women said, “Thank you, Kindle, for setting this up so we can step into a trusted process. We know we’re safe, and we don’t have to go out and fundraise just to give away money. You’ve already handled that. You’re making sure the donors are doing their work, investing their time, and committing to transformation.” We know that by applying, they are here to really do the work and are deeply committed. So we trust that.

That’s the challenge—and it’s a real one. One of our biggest challenges at Kindle is that we have limited contract hours. We constantly have to tell our donors, “We’re not spending all this extra time”—and that can be difficult. There’s a lot of criticism around trust-based philanthropy and flow funding because it takes so much time. And that time you’re investing in relationships—is it really worth it? We’ve got to get money out the door, we have urgent community actions to fund. But I also think this reflects a colonial mindset. When we slow down and deepen the process, it’s not about expanding, it’s not about getting bigger.

After four years, our donors loved what we did. We attracted new donors, we grew in trust, and they wanted to commit for another three years, making this a seven-year journey. And that was a big shift: maybe what we initially thought was a “short-term” commitment isn’t enough. We need to continue past that. What I realized is that deep, slow time, the time spent in relationship, is in many ways more valuable than all the time spent in board meetings and report writing. That’s not transformational.
 

Abby
Exactly, exactly. I remember several moments of reflection on time and what makes the Flow Fund space so incredibly special. It really is not a dominant culture space, and I want to share this because it might help others understand, at a gut level, what that looked and felt like. I remember this moment during one of the donor calls when you were telling a story about the process the Indigenous women were going through. It was about strategy—about the grantmaking strategy and the future of philanthropy in their space. And as we all know, those kinds of big strategic questions can be challenging. You said something that stuck with me, or maybe it was the feeling that you channeled from the women: “I can’t answer that. I need to go back and pray. I need to go back to my space and pray.”

And that was my moment. You mentioned it earlier, Pearl, when I realized, “Wow, this is just a different place.” This is not what my board would expect, but when I reflect on it in my own life—of course you can’t just make those kinds of decisions in a 15-minute agenda item. You don’t make decisions about life or death that way. Sometimes you need time to pause—to think, take a walk, be outside.

What’s coming up for me now is that, on one hand, this process was incredibly different from what we’re used to, but on the other hand, it wasn’t so different from my everyday life. It resonated deeply. It showed that we want to be together—we want to connect with our communities, in a meaningful and respectful way.

Pearl
Exactly, exactly. That reflection really brings me back to when we first invited the Indigenous women to the call and said, “You’ve been nominated.” They were confused. Some said, “What is this? It sounds too good to be true.” And it wasn’t an immediate yes from all of them, which I respected. They said, “I need to pray. I need to take this into ceremony. I need to ask my elders and my ancestors before I can give you an answer. And that will take some time.” So, we asked, “Okay, when can we expect an answer?” They said, “When the time is right.”

It took months before we got an answer. That was lesson number one. And we had to honor that, and we still do, because this is one of the challenges: if you’re going to really put your money where your mouth is, you’ve got to honor principles like self-determination—and these are not just principles, they’re rights. If you’re truly committed to self-determination, it means that we, as an organization, do not hold the power to decide who is involved, the timing of everything, or the outcomes. We simply hold the container and provide the scaffolding to build the bridge, but both groups—the donors and the community—have to come together, with mutual trust. It can’t just be about us building the bridge and saying, “Okay, now it’s safe to walk across.” Both sides need to meet in the middle.

I’ll be honest—it was hard for me when I realized the women weren’t going to make a decision about the collective fund because they needed to take time to pray. I thought, “How do I explain this to the donors? What are they going to think?” But I just trusted the process. I had complete faith in it. And when they came back and said, “We prayed about it, and actually, we changed our minds on a few things,” I thought, “That’s beautiful.” I want more of that in philanthropy.

Abby
I can say that from a donor perspective, that is exactly how I felt. There was an unlearning as well right? In fact, it was a gift to be told, “No, what we really need is time. We need to be in ceremony, we need to pray.” It felt like a gift, because there was so much trust already built between the donors, between you and the Indigenous women, and between you and us, Pearl. That’s why it wasn’t difficult. It was easy because we had taken years to invest in the relationships, to know each other, and to trust.

Pearl
and that investment in relationship is huge. And I always try to bring in a quote or just more direct words from our Indigenous women's mouths. And really, they reflected all the things that they could say after four years together. They really reflected that Kindle has helped us hold this in a prayerful way that is meaningful for us, and done that in a way that's also professional and also does all the things that we need to do to still maintain good relationships, accountability, all those things, IRS, everything on, you know, and that's one of the things that they loved the most: that we didn't have to change who we were to come into this process. And so many times people say, "Well, I can't do flow funding," and that's great. It's not for everyone, nor is trust-based philanthropy for everyone all the time. But one of the things that you can do is also just really look at how you're bringing your whole selves into your work and allowing a space for something new to come through in a way that you didn't set the outcomes and all the priorities and how everything was going to be, and then invite Indigenous people in to advise or consult, but bringing it all and setting the table together, saying, "This is what we're going to eat. This is what we're going to feast on together. And this is what I brought, and this is what you brought." And I feel like there's space for me to bring, and when we come into retreat together, it's that beautiful co-offering of everything we have to share. And it's been so wonderful to actually meet you in person only once. And this is one of my questions for you: how was that for you to meet with us all? And I know it's very rare sometimes that cohorts of separate groups get to meet and build relationships. So our Indigenous women and the donors, we brought them together in New Mexico two years ago, one year ago...

Abby
Oh my goodness. Time, I don't know...

Pearl
And I was wondering, how was that for you, and what did that do for you as a donor? And how did that help you unlearn or learn, or what were some of your thoughts on that? Feelings?

Abby
Yeah, in a way, it brings, it brings through a lot of the same themes we've been talking about. I think for me, I would say that actually, I'm remembering a moment again where I was talking about this with some of my other friends at philanthropy who work in more traditional institutional philanthropy, big philanthropy, and there was just this, "What, it took you three years to meet?" Sorry, no, no, no, no, no. Right? I mean, there was such a reaction and it was uncomfortable, yes, and I was... if there's anything I'm pulling from all this, the times that I was most uncomfortable or most challenged are the times when I knew that I was growing. Yes, and that there was something different happening, right? So I'll say that, you know, there was discomfort in being like, "Okay, you know, we... we've..." because I remember there were little tentative... just like, in the first couple of years, I think they're ready—this tentative, just like, "Oh, can we, what do you think about meeting? What are the, you know," just kind of checking in. And it was just like, "You know, in good time when it's right." And I remember it was, I think so, the first year. And this... the first year, I think it was, it was just donors meeting. So I was just meeting in a donor circle, which was, in and of itself, just great, right? Being able to just connect and get to know other people, their stories, because there was a lot of learning and unlearning happening there, right? Even in just getting to know each other's stories and what we were finding challenging. I found my role as a donor—I still find my role as a donor rather challenging, to be honest. And so it's... that was my own work, that this donor group helped me in the first year. And the second year, it was more about... and I think actually in the second year we did end up doing a virtual gathering. Is that right, Pearl? Yeah, we did something there, right? And, and then the year after, which was beautiful... It also, you know, kind of... if it's okay to share... I don't remember, remember if it's... well, delete it out if it's... you can't, but I remember, again, not, not this diff... not the same kind of meeting, donor meeting, right? We... we met together and did a craft together, and kind of, you know, journaled and made... made... anyway, it was, it was... we were making things together, in our circle with people, and that was just, again, very different. Loved it. But to kind of go back to your question here around, you know, how is it personally transformative? Again, I would go back to when things were uncomfortable, about time and about, you know, those that were not in that circle, when you just tell them that arc of like, first year, second year, third year, it's just like, "No way," right? And how do you break that and/or support folks in seeing that? Yeah, that's very different. But it's not bad. And in fact, it's not even bad. It was actually what made it personally transformative, yeah, and that's...

Pearl
one of our mantras at Kindle is to really lean into the discomfort, because that edge is where your growing edge will be. And if you signed up for this, it's because you probably don't want to move money as usual, right? And I know one of the things that we did when we came together was not only sharing a meal together, but also going to visit one of our grantees who's been with us since the beginning and continues to be a beloved elder, Mary Ann Aranho and her organization Honoring Our Pueblo Existence, and how we got to be welcomed into her traditional bûcha bread-making house there on our Pueblo, on our land, on her family's land, and to share, breaking bread together, the traditional bread from her people, and sitting together in circle. And for me, that was one of those transformative moments. And I was wondering for you, how was that experience for you?

Abby
It was a beautiful moment. Um, you know, in a way, what was interesting was Kindle and the flop and were doing something right, because it almost—it didn't feel like going into a new space. It felt like somehow we were just deepening the relationship we'd already had with this community. And that element of feeling how philanthropy and us as a donor and us as a community had made that possible anyway—that's part of what makes the experience transformative. And it wasn't like a site visit, right? It felt like... No, it was, right, exactly. It's like, you know, those in institutional philanthropy, right? It's not a... it wasn't a site visit, you know, there wasn't the power dynamic. It wasn't rushed. I mean, it was a whole day, you know, a whole afternoon. And it felt like going to visit my grandma's house. It did. It felt like going to visit my grandma's house. And in fact, we, you know, it ended up being that Mary, one of Marianna's, you know, uncles is Filipino, you know. And so I'm of Philippine descent, and so again, just really felt like, on the one hand, incredibly different, right? I am literally going into a different country just in how it feels and how it tastes, and how the language is being spoken and the time and how we are with each other. I was in an incredibly different place, but I was also in a place where I felt deep, deep connection, yeah, like with family...

Pearl
just like family. I remember looking around the room and thinking that exact same thing, you know, this is all the report back that we need on...

Abby
exactly.

Pearl
...to sit together as family with our grantee, in our role as donor and flow funder, and all these roles and identities. Sometimes in the diversity space, it can be quite separative, as you're identified in this way, and I'm identified as that way, and we've done a lot of unpacking about that at Kindle. But also, just to actually be and feel what it's like to be together, and family just takes us back to the origins of giving and caring, and sometimes I feel it's a narrative that got taken in a lot of ways by this typical foundational grant-making world that didn't allow a lot of our voices to come together as... I just... how great it feels. You know, I remember being in a potlatch on the West Coast and knowing it within West Coast Native family, and knowing how that's felt, and what we did was less important to how it felt to be together, to be receiving and to be honoring and to honor Mary Ann, just with our showing up and blessing her, just with hugging and being together. Something, yeah, got lost that we're trying to reclaim here at Kindle.

Abby
I love it. Well, entering into our close-out here, is there anything else you'd like to just communicate or say? You know, because I think what you and I have both alluded to is that often, in particular, those in institutional philanthropy look at these models, you know, trust-based or flow funding, other power-sharing models, and say, "Ah, you know, we can't do it." But I think we both believe that even if you can't operationally do a lot of these things, there are a lot of important lessons that any model of philanthropy could take with them and apply. Any thoughts on that? What are some things you would want folks to take away from today?

Pearl
Yeah, thanks for that question, Abby, because this is one of the most important things—that when we listen to and learn different models, that may not be a fit and they might not be a band-aid solution or a one-size-fits-all. Flow funding doesn't exist for everyone. Trust-based philanthropy isn't the right for every context, but some of the key principles that we have talked about already today are things that we can change in our organizations. And one of which is shifting power, especially in the decision-making and the control of the resources within the organization. Rather than tokenism, truly shifting power means letting go of the reins and trusting sometimes that those in the community know best how to solve the problems that they face. And it's this idea of "Nothing about us without us," involving peoples who are affected by the solution, by the problems, and involving them in the creation of the solutions. So how can you actually invite people in to learn, to work on this together, rather than just coming at something with your existing model of what's right for a community and thinking that maybe money is going to fix the whole problem? And sometimes that isn't. Sometimes there's other ways of being together that can be more transformative for communities than just a grant or doing things as per usual. And I think at every stage, we have to just question, question, question—even when it's hard—questioning our process, questioning what we think that we know. Philanthropy isn't always so... the amount of administration—I call it the administration mountain—that we put on to burden our grantees with and put on them kind of often keeps them suppressed. And different ways that we can think about getting funding to organizations that might need support outside of being existing 501(c)(3)s or... what are other ways that we can serve? If we always think of how we can serve, it's a great question that it's hard to go wrong when we're thinking like that. And also, like we had talked about earlier, really honoring the rights of minority populations that we serve and understanding their histories, that requires us to do our own education and really outline and make clear plans of action, how we can do that, how we can do that in service, and how we can educate and unlearn a lot of what we thought we knew and do a lot of the education about the communities that we serve, taking that upon ourselves, rather than always asking for that emotional burden from our grantees or from outside advisors, really looking and deeply asking and questioning ourselves inside. And I know there's so many other things that I could say about all the things that you can implement and learn and change. But if you want to talk more or have any more questions, you can always email me. It's just pearl@kindleproject.org. We're happy to continue on the conversation, talk more, just get into the messiness. We don't come saying that we have answers that you should do this and here's 10 tips you can take away to improve based on what we did, and we're the experts. No, we're just also in this process and admitting that we're in a co-learning together. And it's kind of like we're not saying that donors should just get out of the way and let Indigenous people take everything. That's not our model. It's saying we are in this together. Let's find a way that we can create this new, beautiful path forward together from the heart in a transformational process that really shows this way of seeing and unfolding in philanthropy together.

Abby
So beautiful, Pearl. Thank you so much for being with us.

Pearl
Thank you so much, Abby, for being in process with us, for trusting us too, and for being in conversation with us. And thank you to everybody at the Giving Practice for offering this opportunity for us to speak and share. And as you can tell, it's one of my joys to share this on behalf of our Indigenous women and cohort donors and everyone. And so thanks for being open. And I hope this was inspiring. Absolutely.

Abby
As always, looking forward to being with you in space again, Pearl.

Pearl
Exactly. Never a boring day. Thank you so much, Abby. Have a good day, everyone.

Nancy (Host)
Can We Talk About…? is a podcast by Philanthropy Northwest, written and produced by Aya Tsuruta and Emily Damon, with audio engineering support from Jesse McKeown at Podfly and graphic design by ASHA Hossein. We'll be releasing season two episodes throughout the fall, so make sure you're following us on your favorite podcasting platform to stay up to date. A huge thank you to Katie Hong, Robin Martin, and Abby Sarmac for hosting this season, and to the Ford Foundation for making this project possible. I'm Nancy Sanabria, and we'll see you next time.