Learning to Be the Change: A Global Journey in Political Activism, Social Justice and Philanthropy
By Ann Morris
I grew up in the 1960s in an upper middle-class Virginia family. We had an African-American maid who lived in the basement and I attended an all-white private high school. Our family lore had it that our ancestors were among the “good” slave-owners, as our slaves had returned to the plantation after being emancipated.
This was the water I swam in, and for decades, even though I envisioned myself a “good” liberal, enlightened about race and horrified by this piece of family history, I didn’t wrestle personally with my heritage.
I grappled with other questions though, such as how my Christian faith called me to serve the poor, and how my lifelong interest in women’s health and reproductive freedom fit in to that call. How issues about health disparities in a place like rural Kenya could actually look so similar to those right in my backyard of Greensboro, North Carolina. And, in recent years, how I might start using the wealth I inherited later in life as a sort of reparations, investing in philanthropy to change systems that create deep social and racial inequities.
For most of my life, I worked as a journalist, holding a variety of reporting and editing roles at newspapers in Atlanta and in several N.C. cities. I was always drawn to stories about injustice, particularly around racial disparities, and some of my most fulfilling work was on those topics. After leaving journalism, I worked in nonprofits and as the international outreach director for a church, where I led mission trips and developed partnerships with schools, orphanages and building ministries in Kenya, Nicaragua and Mexico.
But that work, as fulfilling and eye-opening as it was, felt too much like charity and not enough like justice. I knew I wanted to work more upstream.
In retrospect, I see I was on a learning journey around equity and racial reckoning, a journey that has accelerated in the past year as I‘ve dug into anti-racism work and begun exploring my family’s origin of wealth story.
In 2015, soon after my mother died and I came into an inheritance, I stumbled on what would be a life-changing opportunity, a new philanthropic group called Maverick Collective. An initiative of Population Services International, Maverick Collective is a community of women philanthropists making catalytic investments in health and reproductive rights to elevate women and girls everywhere.
For me, it was a chance to step into the global health equity space, to join an incredible community of women with similar goals and to make a bold investment aligned with my values. The investment was more than 15 times anything I had previously given and was the best money I have ever “spent.”
The pilot project I chose—in Kenya, a country I had come to love in my previous job—focused on improving the lives of poor women by making long-acting contraception available in communities, not just in clinics. For more than three years, I had the privilege of being a small part of a gigantic effort by the PS Kenya project team to develop and execute this groundbreaking program.
I visited Kenya twice during this period. What I saw in the rural coastal villages of Kilifi County was inspiring: community health extension workers, for the first time in Kenya, providing women who wanted them with long-acting contraceptive implants. I’ll never forget meeting a mother of ten whose life was transformed when she finally got long-acting contraception.
When the project concluded in December 2020, we had two big wins: data that showed a clear uptick in the number of women accessing long-term methods, and a commitment from the county government to continue the program. We are hopeful that through continued advocacy the program will be scaled up in other counties, and that the national rules on who can provide implants will be permanently changed.
Back home in North Carolina, where I serve on the board of Planned Parenthood South Atlantic, there was a different fight. In 2019 the Trump administration instituted a domestic “gag rule,” essentially forcing Planned Parenthood to forgo federal funds covering contraception costs for low-income women. As a result, poor women in Greensboro who wanted long-term contraception were scrambling.
The reality could not be more clear: the fight for equity is the same, whether in Kenya or in North Carolina, and solutions don’t flow in just one direction. The model I was funding in Kenya might also make sense in some neighborhoods in my hometown.
For me, this realization about the connection between global and local needs was a powerful “aha” moment, one that is shaping my strategy as a donor and helping me align my engagement in political activism, social justice and philanthropy.
As a purple state, North Carolina is a key political battleground, and so around the time I joined Maverick Collective, I also jumped in here. I joined the boards of Planned Parenthood and Lillian’s List, a statewide organization that recruits, trains and supports women candidates committed to reproductive rights and gender equity. I served on the “kitchen cabinet” of a progressive female legislative candidate, helping with communications. I took a leadership role in the social justice group at my church. I sought out local organizations working for equity, especially around immigration and access to health care, where I volunteered and contributed. I will admit that “coming out” as a major donor in my community made me uncomfortable.
Since then, my involvement has continued to grow and deepen, as I keep a hand in global work but focus more on the local. Most recently, working with the Community Foundation of Greater Greensboro, I co-founded a group called Equity Allies. The group will serve as a learning community for white donors interested in local equity work, with a goal of using our collective resources and voices to push for strategic systemic change, in housing, health care, criminal justice reform and other areas.
We are moving slowly, walking side-by-side with community leaders of color. But we are on our way.
That’s the way I feel about my philanthropic journey now. I have a tremendous amount to learn, but I am on my way.
This exclusive essay is part of a series between The Conscious Investor and The Maverick Collective by PSI. To learn more about The Maverick Collective click here.
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Ann Morris is a retired journalist who worked for daily newspapers in North Carolina and Georgia for three decades, most recently as managing editor of the (Greensboro, N.C.) News & Record. In recent years she worked as a church outreach director, developing partnerships and leading teams to serve in Kenya, Honduras, Nicaragua, Haiti and Mexico. She now spends her time on philanthropy, political activism and social justice work, focusing on racial justice and gender equity. Along with her membership in Maverick Collective, she serves on the boards of Planned Parenthood of the South Atlantic and Lillian’s List, an organization that works to recruit, train and elect progressive women to office in North Carolina. She volunteers with her local Community Foundation in projects to expand community giving and support strategic philanthropy and advocacy addressing systemic barriers anchored in racism.
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