Blog

By Sophia Brown

All opinions are my own. The opinions expressed here belong solely to me and do not reflect the views of my employer. Images sourced from Smithsonian’s National Museum of African American History & Culture and Library of Congress Open Access.

Why Remembering?

“They straightened out the Mississippi River in places, to make room for houses and livable acreage. Occasionally the river floods these places. “Floods” is the word they use, but in fact it is not flooding; it is remembering. Remembering where it used to be. All water has a perfect memory and is forever trying to get back to where it was…” (“The Site of Memory,” Toni Morrison)

Just as the river tries to “remember where it used to be,” we, as humans, are often subconsciously trying to remember where we have been, who we are, and why we are here at this moment in time. 

In this moment of great change, each of us has an ancient technology at our disposal to help us stay centered as we move towards a just economy: remembering. What we choose to remember and how we remember are pivotal in our resilience.

Recently, and particularly over the last six months, there has been a deep erasure of history within multiple federal agencies, continued book banning, I.C.E raids, attempts to defund public broadcasters, the dismantling of federal systems, and executive orders that have shaken philanthropy and the nonprofit sector. The United States’ continued denial of our nation’s history, a history marked by genocide, sexual violence, stolen land, and systemic racism, has led us to this moment. As a people, we have lost touch with our collective memory—the shared memories of past events common between a specific group—and without it, we run the risk of hindering our collective consciousness. When individuals and systems deny, misconstrue, obfuscate, or rewrite historical facts, they inhibit our ability to collectively remember the truth. By practicing the necessary work of remembering, we can unearth clear truths and use them to center reconciliation, accountability, and reimagining as we innovate the economy we wish to see. 

As Toni Morrison stated, imagination and innovation have long been linked to remembering. Today, many regenerative land stewardship practices we utilize, like crop rotation, cultural burns, and companion planting, are ancient practices of the Global Majority being re-incorporated. In these trying times, I am remembering Black folks and what has been transformed and innovated through struggle: CDFIs, CSAs and community land trusts all have roots in the resistance and resilience borne from the Civil Rights Movement. Reverend Herbert Brown of the Black Church Food Security Network recently wrote about the connection between food sovereignty, ancestral wisdom, and remembering, highlighting the “revolutionary” acts of Black people in the South who controlled their own food systems. He advises: “If you are trying to process this moment or wondering where to go from here, it is imperative you recall lessons of old.” Remembering these ancient ways helps us meet the current moment—and in particular, helps us strengthen our resistance and resilience to the polycrisis we are living through.

Therefore, it goes without saying that many of the ideas and concepts I outline in this piece are not new and have been taught by folks doing this work for years. I have deep gratitute for that work, and as we navigate the current political and cultural shift, I offer the following remembrance practices to help guide and ground you in your work shaping a more just economy. 

Remembering the body:

Our bodies are intricate archives. We are connected to our ancestors before we are even conscious, and their knowledge and experiences live within the fabric of our DNA. Recent research states that people’s lives begin in their maternal grandmother’s womb. Therefore, the body is the perfect place to start as you reflect on your relationship to money. 

Whether you grew up financially poor or financially rich, everybody carries money trauma. Resmaa Menakem writes in My Grandmother’s Hands, “History matters, and an awareness of it puts our lives into a context. A disdain for history sets us adrift, and makes us victims of ignorance and denial. History lives in and through our bodies right now, and in every moment.” To do the collective work of remembering, individuals need to first listen and tend to the stories we are carrying within us, and there are many ways to bear witness to the stories in our bodies. As financial activists, innovators, and change makers, the work of witnessing these stories is essential. What do you carry that needs to be tended to, listened to, or seen? How might bringing these stories into the light liberate you?

Systems carry stories too. Using philanthropy as an example, Edgar Villanueva describes the history of wealth in this country as “steeped in trauma” that permeates throughout philanthropic institutions. He shares: “The process of healing from that trauma is central to decolonization. Acknowledging our woundedness is key.” I invite us to think of foundations, for example, as living bodies—and to look for the wounds within these bodies that must be uncovered and cared for in order to build more equitable and just institutions.

Tools for financial activists interested in deepening their relationship to the body: 

• Our ancestors drew upon drumming, singing, and chanting as tools for catharsis, and research has caught up to this ancient wisdom, noting these practices indeed soothe the vagus nerve and lower stress. 
• EMDR therapy, meditation, dancing, and breathwork are additional tools to help tend to the trauma our bodies remember. 
• Workshops, courses, and organizations such as the The Embodiment Institute, the Trauma of Money program, Somatics of Money, and the Strozzi Institute for Somatics offer practical knowledge and tools to help unlock deeper self-awareness and healing. Treating the inner work as sacred is the first step in creating the external conditions that honor the divine nature of all life. 

Prompts for financial activists:

• What is something your body is calling you to remember?
• What is your money story? What is the money story of your family?
• Where does your money trauma sit in your body, and what does this feel like? How does it show up in your financial life? What tools can you call on to soothe it?

Prompts for institutions:

• If we think of your institution as a body, what is it asking you to remember? What needs tending to?
• What are some “somatic” institutional exercises that could improve clarity, alignment, or body/institutional awareness?
• What is the money story of your institution?
• Where does money trauma sit in your institution, and how does it show up? What tools, operations, or practices can tend to it?

Remembering land:

We are made up of the same molecules as the soil and stars, and therefore carry eons of memory rooted in the natural world within our bodies. Colonization shifted our relationship to land by transforming ecosystems into commodities to be consumed, profited off of, and extracted from. Over time, colonial practices stripped Indigenous and Black Americans of a sacred connection and resource through years of land theft and removal, violence, and racist policies. We have grown increasingly disconnected from the land we reside on and have become more comfortable acting as landlords than stewards, neighbors, or kin. But if we are the land, then it stands that harming the planet is harming us, and there is evidence to support that living in relationship to the land is mutually beneficial.

There is a growing movement of doctors who are prescribing time in nature to their patients and witnessing the improved health outcomes that result from this practice. The Jubilee Justice Black Farmers’ Rice Project works with Black farmers to grow regenerative specialty rice using fewer seeds and less water to produce 50% more yield than conventional rice production. Rice is a grain that has deep roots in West Africa and was first brought to and cultivated in the U.S. by enslaved Africans; growing rice in right relationship with the land simultaneously creates more product, more intentional land stewardship, and helps to heal the traumatic memories of extraction that the body and land remember. 

Tools for financial activists interested in deepening their relationship to land:

• Have a still and quiet moment in nature and see what you notice. Drop into all five of your senses and observe how this makes you feel.
• Move financial capital to regenerative land projects led by people of the Global Majority, such as Acorn Center for Freedom, Acres of Ancestry, Amah Mutsun Land Trust, Black Farmer Fund, the California Tribal Fund, the Earthlodge Center for Transformation, Jubilee Justice, Rootwork Herbals, New Communities Inc., Potlikker Capital, Sogorea Te’ Land Trust, Soul Fire Farm, and Temple of Two Waters.
• Rematriate land. Resource Generation and Sogorea Te’ Land Trust have toolkits on ways to contribute to land return efforts and integrate rematriation into your everyday life. 
• Offering acknowledgements, and supporting land taxes are additional practices that center accountability and help to build stronger relationships with your local indigenous communities. Justice Funders has a great resource for foundations interested in supporting land taxes for Native nations.

Prompts for financial activists:

• What is your personal history to land and the land of your people? What is the history of the land you live on? What are tangible ways to connect with both?
• What are the visions and struggles of Indigenous people/tribes in the area you live in or have access to land in? How can you show up in solidarity?

Prompts for institutions:

• What is your institution’s financial history as it relates to land? 
• What and how might your institution invest in land projects? 
• What is the history of the land(s) your institution was founded on?  
• What is your institution’s historical relationship with the Indigenous and Black communities around it?

Remembering your people:

Knowing the stories of your ancestors can help you find new and different pathways for healing yourself and your lineage. The movie Moana (2016) illustrates this beautifully. In the beginning of the film, we get a sense of Moana’s intrinsic love for water. We also see her grandmother encouraging her to follow this feeling, nudging her to listen to the calls of her spirit. As Moana ventures out on a perilous journey, she finds a hidden cave with ancient ships from her tribe, and she exclaims with elation and relief: “We were voyagers!” Something subconscious within her remembered and guided her towards the water, towards the caves, towards these ancestral ships, and towards this discovery. By remembering the history of her people, she enables her grandmother to peacefully transition into the realm of her ancestors, where Moana is continually guided by her grandmother’s spirit. “The water chose you,” her grandmother says to her. Really, the water was always within her, waiting to be seen. 

If I ruined Moana for you—I’m not sorry. It’s almost a decade old, and you should definitely go see it, as well as Moana II. But I wanted to uplift this example because it illustrates how deepening our relationships to our bodies deepens our relationship to our land and ancestors. It enables us to listen to the whispers of our spirit and tend to the seeds already latent within us, waiting to germinate, be watered, and be brought to life.

Time is not linear. What you do today can have a lasting impact on your past and future lineages and non-blood related family, as we see in Moana. This is critical as it relates to extractive capital and repair. By calling on our ancestors and remembering them, their lives, and stories, we have a beautiful opportunity to experience healing in tandem with them.  

Tools for financial activists interested in deepening ancestral relationships: 

• Talk to your people about your people. Learn their names and stories. I started my genealogy journey with my elders and then through genealogy systems. 
• For white folks and others interested in wealth redistribution, this could mean starting reparative genealogy or participating in ancestral money workshops.
• Learn from others that have started the work of ancestral repair. 
• Learn to give money directly to peoples impacted and/or harmed by your lineage.

Prompts for financial activists:

• What are some gifts you’ve received from your lineage or non-blood related relatives? How do you use these gifts in your daily life?
• What histories have you uncovered about your family lineages? How do these make you feel? How do these histories relate to your personal investments and spending? 
• Does money earned through extraction show up in your lineages? Where might there be opportunities for financial reconciliation or repair?

Prompts for institutions:

• Who are your founders, and what are their stories and histories? 
• What have you uncovered about your institution’s history? 
• Where are these historical strengths highlighted in your portfolio? Where do historical harms show up in your portfolio?
• Where does money earned through extraction show up in your institution’s history?
• Where are there opportunities for historical repair? What might that look like in your work?

My experience of remembering:

For me, the act of remembering has taken me on a spirit-filled journey. Listening to my body has helped me remember and metabolize my own trauma and the traumas of my ancestors and access love on a deeper level than ever before. It has also helped me grasp my fears and limitations related to money as a child of the Great Recession. I have worked on being less afraid of losing money, trusting everyday it will flow back to me.

In the beginning of the pandemic, I fell into an ancestral portal of cooking meals for my late grandmother. I cooked her sponge-like cornbread recipe and stewed okra and tomatoes. The experience made me feel like we were eating together. This seed blossomed into an interest in genealogy research, and, eventually, I joined a farm training program where I learned how to make the herbal remedies and medicines of my ancestors.

Remembering my ancestors and their stories has helped me realize I am a cultural memory worker, storyteller, and archivist. This journey has sparked my curiosity around the lingering effects of my family’s relationship to land and money which have caused persistent tension and rifts within every generation of my family’s descendants over the last 80 years. But alongside these legacies of pain, I have also uncovered lasting legacies of love. My ancestors and elders have long-practiced the work of building a just economy; in their economy, love is the currency, and community care, abundance, and mutual aid are central. Because of them, I try to replicate these loving systems, and the active practice of remembering guides and grounds me on my journey as a financial activist.

For white folks, remembering can be a tool for deep healing and repair—a tool to help unlearn the myths and false narratives that uphold white supremacy culture. As the Truth Telling project reminds us, remembering can be the beginning of a deeply necessary historical accountability process.  

For folks of the Global Majority, remembering can be a tool of resistance against colonial frameworks. It is an opportunity to remember what was. Author Akwaeke Amezi highlights the impact of colonization, stating “things that were real for millennia became unreal because white people showed up and violently said that they were make-believe.” But we can reclaim and recenter these realities by re-indigenizing as we innovate. Through remembering, we can find a renewal of ourselves, the land, our people, and the rich stories guiding us to step into our own power.

The water is calling us. The flooding is here. 

---

Additional organizations in cultural memory work, storytelling and remembering: Array, Art.Coop, Blis Collective, The Center for Cultural Power, Changing Frequencies, Comfrey Films, Georgia Dusk, Kashif, Open Television, Reparations Narrative Lab of Liberation Ventures, Mirror Memoirs, Ohketeau, Pōhāhā I Ka Lani, Telepathic Rhythms, The Truth Telling Project, Wildseeds Fund, and ZEAL.

---

Sophia Brown (they/them) is a relationship builder, storyteller, and an apprentice to purpose. Currently a Senior Associate with Mission Investors Exchange, Sophia works with national experts to create and deliver equity-centered impact investing learning development for practitioners and ecosystem stakeholders.  

Sophia brings over a decade of experience working in the private sector, philanthropy, and direct service work. After working as a Senior Consultant at Deloitte, Sophia started a consulting practice to support organizations seeking to approach transformation with intention. They have worked with a variety of clients in both the public and nonprofit sector on growth strategy, survey design, workforce transformation, and DEI data analytics. Prior to this work, Sophia worked in grants management at the Annie E. Casey Foundation. 

Sophia has a deep interest in ancestral land stewardship practices, cultural memory work, and black queer and trans histories. They are based out of Los Angeles, California.

---

By Amina Ahmad

Technology giants, philanthropy, impact investors and financial activists have a clear opportunity to restore, reclaim and redistribute economic power—not just reallocate capital—using true data-driven economic decision making. 

A more imaginative approach to data is already proving the case and possibility for personalized economic systems, tailored to geographies, industries and communities, rather than mass-market financial products. 

This is an opportunity to seed, structure and scale the new financial architecture that will drive true economic mobility through personalized economic systems: real-time community-located finance. 

Today, most financial sector reforms are rebranded versions of traditional tools: think neo-banks through to gender-lens investing. Industry players iterate on old products, patch leaks with new tech, and label it innovation, consequently stalling the bold, transformative ideas needed to build authentic economic power.

Instead of reforming institutions that have never served us well, what if we asked a more radical question: what would a financial system look like if it started from us?

I’m inspired by the idea of building community-located finance: economic systems grounded in the realities, strengths and needs of local communities. These systems prioritize long-term wellbeing over short-term gains, legacy over quick (value-losing) exits, and collective power over profit-seeking.

My vision for financial services is an invitation to collaborate on macroeconomic change in partnership with financial activists, current systems workers, and those working on the safe transition of current financial institutions for the new economic reality. We all have a role to play in this call to real change, and I am eager to work with anyone who understands that building transformative financial services will require a reimagining of how capital flows. 

Why Now?

Because the world has changed, but our financial logic hasn’t.

Chasing alpha—or chasing outsized returns—was encouraged in a near-zero-interest-rate-world designed to accelerate high risk investments and profit-seeking short-termism. But in our current reality, where climate change, social instability and resource constraints are real and urgent threats, it’s not just an outdated strategy—it’s a liability. The Institute and Faculty of Actuaries (IFoA) estimate the global economy faces a 50% loss in Gross Domestic Product (GDP) between 2070-2090 due to catastrophic climate risks. Whilst the Potsdam Institute for Climate Impact Research (PIK) forecasts $38 trillion in annual damages if business as usual today does not adapt to the new climate and resource reality. Weather extremes such as wildfires and storms only serve to increase this amount, with the United States reaching an estimated $100 billion in economic costs due to extreme heat alone. Leading in financial services requires that we stop mimicking outdated strategies. Those models will not hold any meaningful long-term value. It’s a race to the wrong place. It’s time to stop chasing alpha in a changed world.

There is serious work already looking at decommissioning the current economic system because the assets underlying it cannot hold their value. For instance, the Bank of International Settlements has identified potential financial crises triggered by climate risks, labeling them “green swans,” and a consensus is forming that these risks must be removed from global financial markets to prevent systemic economic collapse. Norges, the world’s largest sovereign wealth fund, has publicly recognised climate as a fully-fledged credit risk. We can proactively acknowledge the financial materiality of climate change, social instability and resource constraints before we have no assets of material value left to barter with. These examples aren’t theoretical; they are glimpses of what decommissioning the current economic system already looks like in practice.

Financial services that rely on outsize returns no longer fit their intended purpose of unlocking progress and underwriting innovation. And yet, the myth persists.

Meanwhile, people, especially those in the global majority, are asking for coherence, not complexity. And they are organising towards this coherence through intergovernmental organisations like BRICS, which represents 42.2% of global GDP—almost 55% of the global population. Organisations like these are already well into building systems that understand their contexts, not ones imported with colonial blueprints, and financial solutions that support healing, legacy and real opportunity, not repackaged extractive models. This is real geospatial awareness. This is true data-driven economic decision making. 

What We Need Instead

The future of financial services are financial ecosystems. Financial ecosystems, including community-located finance, are systems that have moved beyond shareholder accountability and are crucial to making resource-constrained, sustainable choices that will underpin resilient financial systems. We need strategic litigation that holds corporations to account, and models like The Freedom Fund and SOMO that back it up with teeth. We need a shift from access to agency and autonomy—a parallel to positive technology activists who advocate asking not what technology does, but who technology does it to and who it does it for.

We need to restore, renew and redistribute economic power, not just reallocate capital.

This means activating the role of systemic financial institutions, large-scale endowments and tech companies in architecting regenerative, economic infrastructures that can withstand a resource-constrained future. Data doesn’t have to be extractive. 

The critical missing piece to reinventing financial systems is improving data literacy. Data in financial services is consistently misunderstood and undervalued, mined only for iterations to products of the existing system. 

Instead, let us imagine that data is used to provide community-located services to truly benefit customers—real-time, geospatial data that supports existing regulatory obligations of financial services providers to their customers. This might look like: 

Real-time mapping of financial services provisions, including non-bank alternatives, by neighborhood. It is not enough to have a Community Development Finance Institution in an unbanked neighbourhood if it is surrounded by predatory payday lenders and betting shops, for example.

Integrating climate risk data can help prevent insurance redlining by enabling regulators to design more equitable coverage policies. With stronger data, regulators can enforce fair practices, and insurers can adjust their strategies to ensure continued protection for communities most at risk.

Supporting more accurate and equitable credit scoring, including community-level economic resilience data for small business loans.

Each of these examples illustrate what community-located data might look like in practice. And though vastly different ideas, they share a common throughline: they are grounded in context and reality, creating a more accurate picture of what is really happening for people accessing and using financial services. 

This is far beyond the current use of data in financial services, where the focus is on tracking, ad targeting and other ways to continue selling the same products to the same customers. 

Real systemic change is not about supporting communities with better products. It is about resourcing them at, and in, their point of need.

So, how do we get there?

To move from product-driven finance to community-located financial systems, we need to:

Make exploitative finance costly, using existing legal mechanisms and regulations to prevent mis-selling and biased practices and the enforcement of fair and responsible treatment of financial consumers. It is necessary to shift the burden of change from communities to institutions that have profited most from systemic inequality. Think Client Earth and SOMO who have deployed existing legal mechanisms to enforce corporate accountability through strategic litigation.

Fund imagination, not iteration. Let’s use the data to move beyond a product-led approach. Funding imagination demands that we resource community-led models, like Rare and Rental Rescue. Instead of using finance to make more money whilst destroying value long-term, these organizations utilize finance in service of their customers’ success and a more sustainable financial model that can grow and adapt profitability and returns well into the future.

Mobilize institutional power for systemic reinvention. Organizations who have the ambition, resources and determined mindset to lead the reinvention of economic systems must now put their money where their imagination is, ensuring a long-term resilient financial system in a resource-constrained future. Endowed funds, systemic financial institutions and technology platforms have the opportunity to market-make and resource these future financial systems.

The Path Forward

We have the legal tools. We have the policy blueprints. We even have the capital. What we need now is a collective willingness to grieve what’s no longer working and to build what might finally serve us all. Community-located finance isn’t a trend, it’s a necessity.

This is more than a call for inclusion. It’s a demand for reinvention.

---

Amina is an experienced early stage startup investor, having started in debt and credit lending. As an angel investor, she specialised in gender-inclusive and sustainable technology and serves as an advisor to investors and funds on capital allocation strategies for climate and social impact. She is Non Executive Director at The Social Investment Business, and a member of the Investment Committee, specialising in deploying blended finance for social impact.

An experienced leader, Amina builds strategic product and project delivery teams and is now focusing on integrating her Just Economy Institute (U.S.), School for Moral Ambition (Brussels) and Churchill (U.K.) research Fellowship learnings into her practice. She would love to hear from you if you’re building the infrastructure for the new economics of finance.

---

By Susanna Penfield

 I learned I had a trust fund the same year I began a Master’s program in Gender Studies. One million dollars, to be specific, in an account that had been set up 15 years prior. 

Beyond overwhelm, this information was jarring. It was dissonant from how I saw myself—someone who grew up in a small, rural, and economically-diverse town; spent my college years writing, speaking, and organizing fellow students for justice; had recently begun an AmeriCorps position in an attempt to serve some sort of greater good; and was spending my off-work hours volunteering for mutual aid, fundraising for food equity, and protesting police brutality. In the narratives I knew, rich people were part of the problem. Not the solution.

I felt this money put me in direct opposition to the communities I wanted to be part of, the social movements I was participating in, the academic frameworks I had studied, and the identity I was claiming. 

However, even within my overwhelm, I knew I wanted to align this wealth with action. So, I began seeking community and guidance. I joined Resource Generation, started working with a money coach, and developed a giving framework to start moving money into community-centric and justice-oriented projects. And, a few months later, I set up a call with financial advisors assigned to my account and began redistributing money from this trust back into community.

The skepticism was ripe regardless of where I encountered it. Reflecting on the contradiction I felt between my clarity to redistribute inherited wealth and the resistance this idea was met with, I decided to leverage the rich (hah) field of feminist and gender theory to explore how identities intersect with systems, and how this creates patterns.

Specifically, how my identity (as a white socialized woman) intersects with systems (of capitalism) to reinforce patterns (of wealth hoarding).

So, in an unabashedly biased move, I wrote a master’s dissertation titled The Impulse to Give: White Feminine Guilt in Narratives of Wealth.

Provocative? Apparently. Particularly for other white people who saw themselves in this story, many of whom bristled at the centrality of “guilt.” Guilt, as I learned through my research, is a recognition of harm and an emotional response to our own lack of action. This recognition is crucial. When listened to, it can be a call to align action with values. Guilt stands in opposition to shame, which stays internal and leads to denial, avoidance, and passivity. However, the recognition of guilt can also be painful—a confrontation with the way our previous actions (or passivity) have harmed others. 

Guilt is the emotional seed from which my redistribution began. 

However, since beginning to redistribute inherited wealth, a number of structural, mechanical, interpersonal, and emotional obstacles have denied, diverted or otherwise delayed me. 

A trust fund is not simply an investment account, but a legal entity designed to hold and manage assets on someone’s behalf. It involves a grantor, who creates the trust fund and sets the terms (my grandfather); a beneficiary, who receives assets from the trust (me); and a trustee, who manages the fund’s assets and executes the grantor’s directives (the trust company). As a beneficiary of the trust, I quickly learned that I did not have ultimate control over how the money in the trust was allocated. 

Because my trustee was a for-profit corporation rooted in the conventional practice of constant, unquestioned, monetary growth, my requests to both give bigger and invest regeneratively fell flat. In response, I was told that the trust was set up to exist in perpetuity— which was the trust company’s interpretation of my grandfather’s intentions now that he was no longer here to advocate for them. 

Without knowing it at the time, I had come into direct confrontation with the wealth defense industry¹ and had to scramble to find allies that could support a vision that stood in defiance to it. And I did — Morgan Curtis (money coach), Resource Generation (peer community), Good Ancestor Movement (community of practice), and many surprise allies in the form of financial advisors, attorneys, my own family members, and, as of 2023, the JEI community. 

Encountering these continued obstacles alongside my ongoing external support led to a decision that felt a long time coming: the dissolution of the trust. 

With my grandfather gone, my grandmother became the closest proxy to donors’ intent. She, along with a letter we found—written by my grandfather while he was undergoing cancer treatment in the 1990s—helped build the case that this trust structure prevented us from aligning inherited wealth with our family’s values. In the letter, my grandfather wrote:

Can I help others? Can I contribute back to this place, and this company of people? In my business life there have been a number of things we tried quite hard to change, to reform, or make a difference: youth employment, issues of poverty in Boston, education and school reform. It appears that we’ve made very little headway—I only regret we didn’t try harder.

This quote, alongside my grandmother’s explicit support and secret legal advocacy from the estate attorney who had helped draft the trust’s legal documents 15 years prior, allowed my mother, my two younger siblings, and me to write letters to the trust company advocating for dissolution of the account and outright distribution of assets. 

And, after several months of resistance, it finally worked. Our letters unlocked not only the one million dollars I had inherited, but the four million cumulatively held in trust by all of us. 

I know that these four million dollars will not fund a just transition or bridge the wealth gap on their own. Instead, I see my decision to unlock these assets as an invitation—for others to recognize the harm of holding onto excess and see the joy that can come from moving it back into community. 

While my decision to bust the trust stemmed from guilt and a recognition of harm, it was also driven by an accompanying sense of responsibility. I came out of college with a fire in my belly, and the trust fund was the match. Particularly given the larger global context of 2020, I was eager to activate the resources I had to make tangible, positive impact.

Throughout this process, one of the most poignant lessons I learned is that money contains a story. For lineages that have been given the privilege and permission to grow wealth across generations, that money can become a time capsule—and for that reason, it is often frozen. The money becomes an attempt to preserve a memory that is described as a legacy but has morphed into a way to maintain power. For many, it didn’t begin that way. At first, the time capsule was a reminder that before this we had nothing, but now we have something, and it took hard work and sacrifice, and isn’t that worth preserving? But I’ve learned that we don’t have to refute our family story in order to evolve it. 

Now, I am an active redistributor who gives, divests, and reinvests at a scale the conventional structure of the trust fund wouldn’t allow. Rather than guilt, I now feel pride—for myself, for my family, and our shared family story. 

To this date, I have not given away the entirety of my inherited wealth. I continue to live in the question of “How much is enough?” and have learned to give big but also slow down; to factor in my own stability and security and make sure I’m not depleting my resources. To move from a place of sustainability and empowerment, not guilt. 

This work has moved beyond individual action. Thanks to Stephanie Brobbey of Good Ancestor Movement, a friend, mentor, and co-conspirator, who saw me in a moment of directionlessness and said, “I’m applying for the Just Economy Institute fellowship, I think you should join.”

Thanks to leo freeman, my co-JEI fellow and radical financial advisor, who recognized that we were dreaming up a shared community. Together, we have launched Chosen Family Office, a platform facilitating connections between values-driven wealth holders and financial professionals aligned with social, economic, and climate justice movements. 

Thanks to a fortuitous call with JEI advisor Dr. Steph Gripne, who invited me to join the launch team for Trustworthy Impact, a 100%-impact oriented trust company that prioritizes social and ecological return, rather than just financial profit. 

Guilt may be a seed, but it’s not the blossom. And once that sprout breaks through the ground, it needs to be watered by community, collaboration, and honesty — so that we, those with privilege (racial, financial, class, or any combination), can begin to own our stories and move from a place of collective vision, not constant apology. 

For me, JEI has been that space of collectivity. And I am so grateful. 

---

You can continue to follow the process of me, owning my own story, through my Substack, The BUSTED Chronicles. Please reach out to share your own. Clearly I love a story and am always here to listen. 

---

Susanna is the Director of Relationships for Chosen Family Office, a platform for connecting values-driven wealth holders with justice-oriented financial professionals. She is also a Senior Fellow with the Impact Finance Center and is part of the launch team for Trustworthy Impact, the first-ever 100% impact-oriented independent trust company. In addition, she is an alumna of the Just Economy Institute, co-leader of the Vermont chapter of Resource Generation, member of the Solidaire Network, and writer of The BUSTED Chronicles. Susanna holds an MSc in Gender Studies from the London School of Economics, where her research focused on the catalyzing role of white feminine guilt in narratives of wealth. She also earned a BA in Political Science and Feminist and Gender Studies from Colorado College. Susanna is an avid reader, skier, biker, runner, and occasional polar plunger. Born and raised in Vermont, she currently lives with her partner in Albuquerque, NM.

 

---

1. Described as “an army of lawyers, consultants, accountants, and more who get paid millions to help their clients hide trillions” — further explored by fellow inheritor, wealth redistributor and equity advocate Chuck Collins in his book The Wealth Hoarders: How Billionaires Pay Millions to Hide Trillions. ↩︎

By Donovan Ervin

 I remember sitting down for my first planning session when I had a very specific vision. It was thrilling when the moment I envisioned actually happened—five weeks into the school semester. During a class discussion on values, a self-described jokester shared his perspective and ended his insightful remarks with a light-hearted comment and a big grin. Then, the laughter. It lasted only a few breaths, but it flowed with warmth and ease. I felt the energy in the room shift as everyone relaxed.   

This! This is what I had hoped for when I took the leap to teach the first undergraduate impact investing course at Southern Methodist University (SMU). Because this was also my first time as a university instructor, everything was new and required building. 

I accepted the challenge to teach because it aligned with my mission and work. As an impact investing practitioner, I help direct financial capital toward environmentally- and socially-focused companies. But impact investing, at its best, is about more than just moving capital; it’s about shifting culture and power. It’s about using money to nurture life-sustaining systems. Money as medicine, as Edgar Villanueva puts it. And I was inspired by the idea that through this course, I could guide the next generation of students to explore the higher purpose of finance. 

I love teaching and facilitating, but the magnitude of this opportunity weighed on me. I felt out of my depth and overwhelmed. In moments of self-doubt, I wondered if I was experienced, engaging, and competent enough to lead students to grapple with the nuances of impact investing.   

Fortunately, my experience as a Just Economy Institute Fellow provided a blueprint. I borrowed from JEI’s learning framework to design a course with three focus areas: the inner work of personal reflection, the practical work of understanding financial capital as a powerful tool, and the collective work of cultivating relationships in the classroom and broader community. I was drawn to this framework for my course because, unlike with traditional academia, it calls upon financial activists to bring their full selves to the work. Hearts and heads. My own growth as a JEI Fellow showed me that this integrated approach can help leaders create change with more compassion, intention, and efficacy.   

With that in mind, I designed coursework to sharpen and assess students’ practical and conceptual knowledge. We analyzed impact frameworks, compared asset classes, and evaluated investment opportunities. At the same time, I knew a quiz or memo alone wouldn’t capture the holistic, heartful learning that I desired for my students. That’s why laughter was so integral to my initial vision: it pointed to the trust and connection required to go beyond transactions and into transformation.  

Although laughter wasn’t an official departmental learning objective, I hoped to see it, and I made intentional efforts to create the conditions for it to emerge. To disrupt hierarchy, we arranged the desks into an oval, rather than the standard classroom rows, so that we could see and learn from each other. To connect with our bodies and the present moment, we began class with breathwork. To foster relationships, we had one-on-one conversations with different partners each class and invited impact investing leaders to come speak. And to tap into personal values, students practiced storytelling and imagining the world they wanted for future generations.  

Especially at first, the idea of my students laughing in my class seemed, well, laughable. I sensed their resistance to this new content and style. My self-doubt returned, pointing out that these experiments weren’t working, and I was foolish for taking this on. So, when that first collective laugh finally came, I felt relieved. This moment of levity signaled to me that we were progressing towards the holistic learning experience I had imagined.   

Fortunately, the students had several more moments of laughter and discovery throughout the semester. I also saw my own growth, as I confronted my insecurities and gained more confidence in my ability to do hard things. I’m grateful to my tribe—JEI members, colleagues, and loved ones—who generously offered the materials, time, and support that enabled a successful semester. I was reminded that I’m connected to a community of brilliant co-conspirators and supporters also pursuing deep transformation. 

Of all the learning that took place, my most important discovery is this: whether teaching a university course or addressing society’s biggest challenges, we must lead with our full humanity.  

---

Donovan Ervin (he/him) is Vice President in the Investment Group at Tiedemann Advisors. In this role, he is helping to direct capital toward a more inclusive, just, and regenerative economy. This work aligns closely with Donovan’s professional mission: developing and supporting new markets that shift patterns of production and consumption, distribute power and ownership more democratically, and expand the definition of wealth to include individual, community, and planetary health and well-being.  

Previously, Donovan has held positions at various organizations in the social sector, ranging from K-12 education to community development to environmental justice.  

Based in Dallas, Texas, Donovan is a graduate of Yale University (MBA and Master of Environmental Management) and Stanford University (BA in Comparative Studies in Race and Ethnicity). He is a JEI alumnus and a proud advisory board member at the Yale Center for Business & Environment and the SMU Impact Lab. Outside of work, Donovan enjoys writing, exercising, and being with his people. 

 

---

By Tory Dietel Hopps, Managing Partner, Dietel Pickering & Partners

I am a philanthropic advisor, and I have the privilege of working with phenomenally intentional clients. Unfortunately, while the philanthropic intent is often alive and well, many of my clients are unaware of or overwhelmed by the ways in which their endowments could be invested in manners that perpetuate harm in direct contrast to their values and mission.  

I participated in the Just Economy Institute (JEI) fellowship in 2018-19 with three goals: deepen my learning around ways to shift my personal capital, create a community that believes money can be in service of liberation and economic transformation and find the courage to begin having difficult and transparent conversations with my clients. 

At some foundations, there is a tension between what the 5% of money (grantmaking) supports and how the other 95% of money (endowment) is invested. A foundation might, for example, fund new advocacy to stop fossil fuel pipelines while holding stock in the very companies building those pipelines. This incongruity didn’t sit well with me, and I saw opportunities for greater alignment and positive impact on issues of concern for my clients that could be achieved by shifting their investments. 

As an advisor, I felt called to point out the profound dissonance I saw between what my clients had helped accomplish through their philanthropy and the detrimental impact their foundation had perpetuated through their investments. JEI helped me understand that I wanted to play a role in illuminating this disparity and walking alongside my clients as we work together to rectify it. 

For many, significant wealth comes with emotional strife. I have clients who find great joy in their giving and are thoughtful, deliberate and intentional in their grantmaking. And yet, for many, wealth is rife with overwhelm, stress, guilt, and often, trauma. Confronting these emotions is as critical as it is delicate, and I was determined to discover how to have these conversations in a manner that was both approachable and honest. 

For my JEI Creative Capital Calling, I created a case study, workshopped a presentation showing how at odds the foundation’s endowment was with its grantmaking and offered a path forward. I then used this model in real time with one of my clients.

At first, when we met and I walked my clients through the contradictions in their philanthropy, they were disappointed and upset. They were overwhelmed, and I worried that I was at-risk of getting fired for being the messenger of this news. After our meeting, they went quiet for some time. 

In the meantime, I began sharing my own money story on webinars to various audiences; as someone with class privilege, I hoped my personal journey of aligning my money with my values could be a model for others who wanted to do the same but didn’t know where to begin. When I tell my story, I stress the indisputable, fundamental point that we are the only experts in our own values. I share that getting clear on my values led me to move my money differently and that this process happened slowly and over time. And, in doing so, I hope to demonstrate alternative ways of stewarding capital. 

Stories move people—and I was grateful to discover that telling my story had an impact on those who tuned in, including my clients. After a period of time and reflection, my clients decided that it was their responsibility to step into their values and make a request of their investment advisors. We set up a meeting, and my clients stated that, at the very least, any investments in their endowment should not be in direct opposition to their grantmaking work, and it was important to them to begin finding greater alignment between their values and investments. 

Afterwards, my clients realized that the process of clarifying their values and interests was less overwhelming than they had anticipated. What it required was intentionality. They had to step into the role of “executive trustee” and share what was important to them; then, it was up to the investment professionals, with help from their philanthropic advisors, to support them in making the necessary changes to bring their portfolio into greater alignment. 

Through careful articulation of what my clients hoped their money would and wouldn’t do in the world, and with the help of advisors who were willing to listen, we’ve made some real progress. I share the following as two examples of how we are tracking the shifts we set out to engage in: 1) a re-evaluation of risk and return, as we move into investments that are values-aligned, rather than investments focused exclusively on the highest financial return, and 2) investing in more funds managed by diverse ownership, with a focus on women and BIPOC fund managers—in this case, diversity is measured by at least 33% diverse ownership. 

I share this because I believe in the power of storytelling. I know how hearing others’ stories encouraged my own journey, and I’ve seen how sharing my money story has inspired my clients. Shifting the flow of capital and power requires clarity on what we’re shifting these resources towards. The power of intentionality is real, and all of us, at different places across the financial spectrum, have that power at our fingertips. 

With thanks to Cambridge Associates for working with us on this alignment assignment. 

---

Tory is a social, environmental and financial activist. In 2007, she joined her father Bill and sister Betsy in creating Dietel Pickering & Partners, a shared family philanthropic office working with individuals and multigenerational family philanthropies. Tory has spent the past 12 years aligning her own wealth with her principles through a journey in impact investing. Clients credit her with helping them reshape their giving by thoughtful integration of their values and transforming their attitudes about the social change they can contribute to through their philanthropy and investments. Tory manages portfolios for clients with both domestic and international interests, while assisting grantees with their strategies, resource development and capacity building. She has a gift for helping to build profound partnerships between funders and grant seekers through her work.

For 25 years prior to Dietel Pickering & Partners, Tory focused on resource development, management and governance for non-profit organizations in education, health and human services. She served as a principal of Turning Point Consulting, specializing in strategic planning and organizational capacity building for nonprofits.

Tory serves on the advisory boards the Imago Dei Fund, Nyaka Global and the Northern Forest Fund.  She is a faculty member of the Girl Child and her Long Walk fellowship. Tory speaks publicly about her money story and how people can align their resources with their values broadly. She recently stepped down as Co-Chair of the Board of Health Care Without Harm, is a past Fellow of the Just Economy Institute and an Alum of Rockwood Leadership Institute’s Art of Philanthropic Leaders Program.  Tory is a graduate of the Emma Willard School and the University of Vermont.

Tory is the proud mother of two grown children and a granddaughter. She lives with her husband in Maine. When not causing good trouble, Tory can be found gardening, hiking, traveling or dancing.

 

---

By Rudy Ruttimann

In the dynamic landscape of social entrepreneurship, where innovation meets philanthropy, there often arises a pivotal moment—a moment of vulnerability and resilience, where the strength of community intertwines with the quest for sustainable change. As a seasoned executive within the non-profit sector, I have navigated this terrain with unwavering determination, propelled by a vision of amplifying the transformative power of creativity for social and economic advancement.

Yet, despite decades of immersion in the intricacies of community and leadership development in the arts and culture sector, the challenge of resource scarcity persists—a sobering reminder that even the most promising initiatives require support to flourish and are challenged to find it. 

An economy based on competition, scarcity and extraction is void of the things that drive me on my journey as a financial activist. In stark contrast, grounded in the concept of radical love, I founded the Foundation for Leadership, Imagination and Place (FLIP), a public foundation aimed at catalyzing systems change through the amplification of young leadership. To me, radical love is an embodied experience where empathy, collaboration and an unwavering commitment to collective well-being emerge. FLIP is a manifestation of this radical love—it is a manifestation of our belief in the power of emergent leaders, collective action and the arts to shape a better world. 

However, remaining a well-resourced and sustainable organization is a journey fraught with obstacles. After only two years of operating, FLIP needed immediate assistance. The nascent nature of our organization combined with the volatility of resource flow rendered FLIP’s future precarious. 

Enter the Just Economy Institute—a bastion of innovation and solidarity, where financial activists converge to redefine and reimagine economic and social justice. It was here, amidst a gathering of like-minded visionaries, that I was once again reminded of the power and impact of radical love. 

With trepidation and hope, I took the opportunity to beseech my cohort for help with a request to support FLIP’s viability in the months ahead. The response was awe-inspiring. Ten individuals stepped forward, their hearts brimming with compassion and minds ablaze with solutions. In the ensuing hours, a symphony of collaboration unfolded as ideas converged and networks intertwined into a tapestry of collective action, grounded in love.

The zeal with which my peers approached my plea for assistance was matched by the depth of care and solidarity that permeated every interaction. Discussions expanded far beyond FLIP’s immediate considerations and evolved into a robust conversation around the short-term and long-term needs of the whole group. Everyone was given the chance to share resources they needed and those they could offer, and the response was a crash-course in integrated capital; the group explored financial, emotional, natural, relational, intellectual, spiritual and political capital to resource one another’s work and dreams. 

In a testament to the transformative power of collective action, support emerged within a mere six hours—an achievement made more remarkable by the spirit of equity and compassion that underpinned every contribution. As FLIP’s urgent needs were met, a sense of gratitude and humility washed over me as I recognized the boundless potential that emerges when individuals come together in pursuit of a common goal.

As I reflect on this transformative experience, I repeatedly return to the profound impact of radical love—a force, too often de-centered in our work as change agents, that transcends boundaries, unites communities and empowers individuals to effect meaningful change. Equipped with newfound lessons and a spirit of solidarity, I am determined to share these insights with my local community. My hope in sharing this story is to illuminate all that is possible and catalyze a ripple effect of compassion, collaboration and collective action that will reverberate far beyond our immediate sphere of influence. In the end, it is through acts of radical love that we pave the path towards a more just and equitable world—for ourselves, and for generations yet to come.

---

A few years ago, Rudy Ruttiman stumbled upon the term “financial activist,” and it immediately resonated. After years of fighting for social justice, Rudy hungered to create tangible change. The concept of financial activism ignited a fire within her and has been the bedrock of her mission ever since. With two decades at SKETCH Working Arts, Rudy has been on a rollercoaster ride of nurturing creativity and empowering young minds. Now, she is diving headfirst into FLIP-Foundation for Leadership, Imagination, and Place, a journey to shatter barriers in the arts, amplify creative industries, and energize communities across Canada. Rudy hopes to revolutionize systems, share wisdom, and pioneer social change in community. When not immersed in the realm of arts and activism, Rudy is lost in the enchanting embrace of Northern Bruce Peninsula’s nature–gliding on water, tracing hidden routes, and embracing the thrill of discovery. Rudy is a queer mom of four, a Toronto & Northern Beauty Seeker, kayaking addict, movie magic devotee, book nerd, and laughter aficionado. Rudy hopes to laugh, learn, and reshape the globe one adventure at a time. 

 

---