Sandy’s Introduction

“What kind of funding are you looking for, and do you have a budget for this year?” a staff person from a foundation asked me. We were talking about the 2018 Disability & Intersectionality Summit (DIS). It came as a shock when I, the event’s founder, landed a meeting with this foundation to discuss DIS.

It was one of my earliest interactions with a foundation as a community organizer and I recall trying my hardest to impress this staff person. As a disabled and queer Asian American woman, I felt such shock partly because our ableist society has conditioned me and millions of disabled people to wait and be told what would be best for our lives, rather than asking directly for what we need.

Ableism is a system of oppression that devalues and discriminates against people with disabilities. Individuals as well as institutions, policies, and communications can be sources of ableism.

Jen’s Introduction

For years, I have been part of and an observer to ableist gatekeeping in philanthropy. From a “go, go, go” work culture to the invitation of proposals and office and event design, the philanthropy sector is not without its share of ableism. I’ve spent much of my career operating in systems that have not honored what my body needs to be successful, because of both structural ableism and ableism that I’ve internalized. As a person with chronic illnesses, I didn’t know about accommodations I could request or boundaries I could set, because I didn’t see them modeled around me. When I once tried to share my experiences with pain, fatigue, sensory sensitivity, and digestive needs at a former team retreat, I was met with disbelief and laughter. The awkwardness sent a clear message: It’s easier just to keep it to yourself.

But it shouldn’t be awkward. The philanthropy sector has waved the banner of “diversity, equity, and inclusion” for years, and yet ableism continues to affect staffing and talent development, knowledge generation and sharing, and governance and funding. I have even inadvertently perpetuated ableism. For example, I never knew to ask direct reports if they needed accommodations, and I have readily spoken at inaccessible events. I’ve been on my own learning—and action—journey to change this.

Read the full article about ableism in philanthropy by Sandy Ho and Jen Bokoff at Stanford Social Innovation Review.