(image from givinggap.org
By Heather Infantry
As the CEO of Giving Gap, an online platform committed to closing the racial equity gap in charitable giving, I am often asked what it means to lead in unpredictable times. It is a curious question because, from my estimation, life has never been certain. We have always lived in a state of predictable unpredictability. Perhaps those who find this moment unsettling are only now awakening to what far too many of us have experienced for generations.
If we look back, the noise has always been loud, a constant mix of distraction, competition, and confusion disguised as progress. And yet, somehow, we made it through. We found a way. We held the line. We stayed focused on what was true and learned to see the absurdity for what it was. The very distractions that tempt us to turn away from communal care and mutual responsibility serve as reminders to return to love. Because love, in its truest form, is revolutionary.
Leadership in the social sector is often described in the language of innovation: new strategies, new data, new technologies. But sometimes leadership requires stillness. It means staying rooted when everything around you urges reinvention. This steadiness is vital in philanthropy, particularly in the pursuit of equity. We have seen waves of pledges and commitments rise and recede, and beneath those waves, the work continues. We remain steadfast because equity is not a moment, it is a mandate.
I often return to an exchange between Toni Morrison and Bill Moyers that captures the moral depth of this work. Morrison reflected on the idea that while people often say, “I didn’t ask to be born,” she believed otherwise:
“We are here, and we have to do something nurturing that we respect before we go. We must. It is more interesting, more complicated, more intellectually demanding and more morally demanding to love somebody, to take care of somebody, to make one other person feel good… And not doing it is so poor for the self. It’s so poor for the mind. It’s so uninteresting to live without that, and it has no risk… That just seems to make life not just livable, but a gallant, gallant event.”
Morrison’s words remind me that love demands courage, creativity, and clarity of purpose. To love through leadership is to accept the risk of care: the risk of being misunderstood, of being tired, of giving more than you think you have. But not to love, to retreat into cynicism or safety, is to not live at all.
Earlier this year, Giving Gap surveyed nonprofit leaders across our platform to understand how they were faring in the first half of the year. The findings were sobering but unsurprising. When asked to describe their outlook, the most common words were “concerned,” “tough,” and “unchanged.” Nearly half described their leadership teams as “concerned but mobilized.” Most said funding had become more challenging, and many noted that staff morale and safety had worsened.
Several leaders shared that they had been forced to adapt their language, softening terms to preserve funding or avoid scrutiny. Yet amid this pressure, what stood out most was resolve. People were not retreating; they were recalibrating. As one wrote, “We’ve pulled from what our ancestors taught us, tightening our communal ties and working together to reach our goals.”
These findings capture what Morrison meant when she said that to love and to care is “morally demanding.” It is laborious work, but it is the only path that makes life, and leadership, gallant.
As we look toward the next year, we at Giving Gap are leaning deeply into partnership. In some cases, this means consolidating operations and programs with organizations where there is mission alignment. We know that in our field, the work can be siloed and fractured, but together we make our best better.
Our survey echoed this truth. When asked what would help them navigate the current political and social climate, leaders overwhelmingly called for “real partnership, not just funding, but alignment.” They spoke of shared infrastructure, courageous funders, and networks of like-minded organizations as keys to resilience. Collaboration, in this light, becomes an act of love. It resists the myth of scarcity and builds collective strength. By joining forces, we can amplify impact, preserve capacity, and protect one another.
Personally, I have been spending more time outdoors, walking or jogging on the Beltline, or joining group rides through my neighborhood. These activities have become small rituals of renewal. I do them without headphones, making it a point to look people in the eye, to offer a good morning, to acknowledge the simple joy of being here together.
There is something healing in these ordinary exchanges. Sitting on my porch, waving at neighbors as they pass, I realize the world is not as fractured as the algorithms would have us believe.
Just the other day, a young brother rode past my house on his bike and asked if I was okay for wings and fries. It was such an unexpected question. He explained that he was a caterer in the neighborhood with a 24-hour kitchen selling every variety of wings. His entrepreneurial spirit wowed me. With unemployment up, here he was carving out his own lane, feeding our community and creating access where options are few. Do you know how many late nights I’ve wanted honey hot wings? Here he was, offering exactly what we needed, meeting a craving and a gap all at once.
And then there is Sam, the 90-year-old I met on the track testing his new knee, moving at a steady, determined pace. Watching him, I thought that this is what perseverance looks like. Not speed, but constancy. Not flash, but faithfulness. Again, these moments affirm that love is the practice of presence.
In the months ahead, the world will offer plenty of reasons to despair. Election cycles will further divide, social media threads will distort, and inequities will persist. We have faced far greater challenges. And yet here we are, alive, loving and building ways to care for one another.
As we move toward a new year, whatever it might bring, let us stand firm in our purpose. Whether it is a young man selling wings on his block, a 90-year-old circling the track, or a leader recommitting to her work, each act of care is a revolution.
Go out there and love gallantly.
*****
Heather Infantry is CEO at the Giving Gap.
