The last year has brought about the heightened visibility of systemic racism across all spheres of life — most notably its impact on Black lives. It has also facilitated a disturbing trend of organizations suddenly realizing the existence of anti-Blackness and scrambling to address it. Black, Indigenous and/or People of Colour (BIPOC) are being called upon to share their stories as a means to contextualize these realities. But, when concrete claims about systemic racism are raised, there is a strong tendency to have people prove that this actually exists. Black and other people of colour are put on the spot, only to have their claims denied, minimized or dismissed as one-offs. 

As a Black woman working in the social impact sector, I have faced my fair share of racism. White co-workers have questioned why they are not allowed to use the n-word, referred to Black stakeholders as “ghetto,” and confused me — on multiple occasions — for other Black employees despite my looking nothing like them. I once requested use of organizational banners for a community event I was hosting. The communications team gave me the banners with Black folks on them, and then made a “joke” about how these images did not adequately reflect the communities we serve and were, therefore, not requested for use by other staff. Ironically, this is an organization with a mission to support the well-being of all Ontarians. 

Perhaps better known is how this type of racism manifests in international work. While working in East Africa, a white colleague defended the actions of white missionaries. When I tried to explain the white supremacist roots of missionary work, and its consequent destruction to local faith/spiritual practices, I was firmly dismissed. This person now works in donor relations for an organization whose mandate is to serve Indigenous/Afro-descendant communities around the world. 

Across these spaces, I have experienced the disproportionate burden placed on Black womxn to educate others on racism and oppression while being simultaneously expected to deliver excellent work; because, there is no room for us to fail. But, when I ask for organizational accountability — mentorship, pathways to advancement, adequate recognition — I am jeopardizing my professional security. Speaking truth to power comes with serious professional consequences for people of colour. The risks associated with writing this article exemplify this.

Once, I spent tremendous amounts of energy raising these issues within my workplaces — at the expense of my own well-being — but accountability never came. EDI frameworks were erected, and performative statements in support of Black lives were articulated, but the foundational structures never shifted. This dynamic reminds me of the late-and-great Toni Morrison and her remarks on the function of racism:

“The function, the very serious function of racism is distraction. It keeps you from doing your work. It keeps you explaining, over and over again, your reason for being. Somebody says you have no language and you spend twenty years proving that you do. Somebody says your head isn’t shaped properly so you have scientists working on the fact that it is. Somebody says you have no art, so you dredge that up. Somebody says you have no kingdoms, so you dredge that up. None of this is necessary. There will always be one more thing.”

In other words, there is never enough I could say about my experiences that will convince others of my humanity. Therefore, rather than parade the pain of BIPOC folks as a means to substantiate racial trauma (aka trauma/poverty porn; a social impact tactic commonly used as a marketing strategy), I’m going to focus on an underlying framework that guides the social impact sector: white saviourism.

What is White Saviourism?

White saviourism is when white people, organizations and/or culture seek to “save” BIPOC folks by “fixing” their problems without really understanding the context. White norms and solutions are favoured over those of impacted communities, while the white saviour centres themselves as essential to the process. Self-congratulation follows. I am reminded of when an organization I worked for began doing land acknowledgements (only after the persistent advocacy from Indigenous staff). Instead of critically reflecting on the purpose of land acknowledgements, and how they relate to a wider commitment towards truth and reconciliation, the white CEO simply congratulated themselves by noting how much further along we were than others in the sector. This is classic white saviour complex, and is well articulated by Amelia Colwell as follows: 

“White people are taught that we are the good guys. That is a dangerous lie. In fact, we are quite the opposite. Our ancestors colonized, enslaved, and robbed entire cultures of their land, humanity, and freedom. We cannot be the heroes and sheroes of a narrative in which we are the original villains.”

I’ve witnessed paternalistic thinking a lot while working in philanthropy. A colleague once joked that we should add “god-send” to our job descriptions; implying we are god-sends to the non-profit/charitable sector. As if the money is ours to give in the first place. Canada is predicated on colonial violence, including Indigenous land theft and genocide. The enslavement of Black peoples existed in Canada for centuries and the intergenerational wealth accumulated in predominantly white institutions can be traced back to that legacy. 

White Saviourism in “Multicultural” Canadian Society

Canada is, therefore, no stranger to white saviourism. This concept is what justified deeply destructive, assimilationist policies towards Indigenous peoples such as residential schools. The dominant national narrative boasts of harmonious multiculturalism. But, to confront this myth is to, “unearth past centuries riddled in historic injustice, genocide, slavery, segregation and racist government policy.” As a present-day, settler colonial society, the preservation of these distorted concepts manifest themselves within our social impact sector; the underpinnings of which are primed for white saviourism. 

Consider the non-profit and charitable sectors — major players in this space. They are founded on Western/Eurocentric/Christian notions of charity that position the rich (and white people) as virtuous, and the poor (and people of colour) as incapable. In order to receive “charity,” only those who demonstrate a promise towards virtue are deserving of “benevolence.” As someone who has worked in both the philanthropic and non-profit sectors, this dynamic is mirrored in the grant application process. Those with power set the investment agenda while organizations seeking funding align their work accordingly. Unsurprisingly, funding routinely goes towards predominantly white-led organizations that share the same values as white-led funders. According to Unfunded: Black Communities Overlooked by Canadian Philanthropy, “[a]cross all community foundations [they] reviewed, grants to Black-serving organizations represented a meagre 0.7 percent of total grants during the 2017 and 2018 fiscal years. Grants to Black-led organizations were only 0.07 percent of total grants made in the same period.” When raising this in funding spaces, and encouraging changes that would lead to more investments directly to Black-led organizations, I am told these organizations “lack capacity”. As if surviving centuries of oppression doesn’t constitute an exceptional level of capacity. The paternalism coded in that response is so reflective of the white supremacist characteristics that uphold organizational culture, that it would be jarring if it weren’t so predictable. 

White Saviourism: Some Antidotes

If you work in the social impact sector, the time for personal and organizational accountability is now. Peoples’ health, well-being and lives are literally at stake. It is past time to engage in the real work towards racial justice. This might mean realizing that just because you have intentions to help doesn’t mean you are equipped to. The impacts of “doing good work” (the mission of the social impact sector) are not serving Canada’s communities of colour; who are the true experts when it comes to addressing systemic oppression. This dynamic also ends up putting BIPOC folks within social impact in positions where they need to express gratitude to white organizations for the most baseline gestures of inclusion; but “[i]f you’re not hiring, promoting, being led by and investing in Black people, and if you’re not firing the people who are racist, then you know a statement doesn’t mean so much.”

Contrary to mainstream social impact narratives, BIPOC communities don’t need to be “empowered.” We have been resisting and reclaiming for centuries; guided by a different set of values where collective justice is inherent. While concepts like mutual aid have gained prominence amidst the COVID-19 pandemic, they have been resourcing communities facing marginalization for decades. Throughout this and prior crises, BIPOC folks have enacted systems of mutual aid far more effective at providing relevant care. The focus needs to be on investing in BIPOC — especially Black and/or Indigenous — leadership, rooted in anti-racist and decolonial frameworks. This will lead to the creation of justice-oriented institutions and move us away from the destructiveness brought on by centuries of white saviourism. 

Tell us this made you smarter | Contact us | Report error