“If you trust us to do so”

Justice Funders: What are you most excited about looking forward to this year, and into 2026?

Joe T: We were chosen to join the Andy Warhol Foundation re-granting program. That's huge for us, because we’re a fiscally sponsored fund, and we are one of the first fiscally sponsored funds to be invited. And I think that's important because of the way that 501(c)3s are being targeted right now. So, for us to still be invited to be a part of that program and to provide project support to visual artists is really exciting. As part of that work, we're doing a state-by-state tour with multiple stops to connect artists in their home communities. We knew that it was important to continue to bring people together, especially with how large Central Appalachia actually is in geographic scope. Magic happens when people are together and can talk to each other and learn from each other.

We've focused on trying to be innovative in our approach to giving, and that has included direct payments to members who could then re-gift it to other people. Last year, we launched our Creative Arts Liberation Fund, formerly known as the Queer Arts Liberation Fund, to support queer artists. In Central Appalachia, queer artists are often overlooked by traditional funders who fund LGBTQ+ organizing work. We see our work as trying to fill the gaps in the funding ecosystem. We’re looking forward to envisioning the things that need to exist that don't, that can provide other financial means of support to artists, beyond grants.

Justice Funders: That's exciting. You named geography. I'm curious about what some of the biggest challenges and barriers are that artists and arts and culture organizations face in Central Appalachia? 

Joe T: I think the money is isolated into favorite regions. Funders overlook rural areas and urban spaces that aren't big metro centers. 

There are certain things that traditional philanthropy doesn't support like building acquisition, building repairs, and a lot of the arts and cultural institutions that have been around for a very long time have physical spaces that are falling into disrepair. So it's also a barrier when the needs mismatch the funding initiatives. 

Not many funders come to Appalachia, so they don't see firsthand the real needs on the ground. And when funders make decisions from the ivory tower of philanthropy, there often is a disconnect between the development of those programs at the national level and the real need.

One big need is the climate catastrophe that has continuously been hitting our region, which has led to disaster capitalism. I met some folks who had their building where they do their programs sold from under them. They were renting from a landlord when [Hurricane] Helene happened, and then the landlord saw a way out and sold the building. Now these folks have to find new places to do their programming. It’s a lot of those interlocking systems that we see unraveling at the moment.

Justice Funders: What is the next thing organizations on the front lines want to see grant makers push for? 

Joe T: First, initiating true partnerships. Building real relationships with grantees can surface things. I'll give an example. Given the moment of queer antagonisms on all levels of government, both local to federal, we were having trouble getting applications [for their queer arts grant program]. So I started calling people and asking them why they didn't put an application in. A lot of them were afraid of being exposed publicly. So our steering committee decided that we weren't going to do a grant announcement like we did in the previous year, where we shared grantee social media handles, organizational names, and ways that the public could learn about them. When I shared our decision with artists, I heard such relief. It wasn't anything huge. It was a very small change that allowed artists to feel safe enough to even apply. That's what I think relationships give over the transactional. 

Secondly, think about intersectional funding. What I mean by that is, many of these issues are interlocked, like capitalism and climate, or land and the housing market. All of these issues are interconnected, and to me, culture goes way beyond art making. Art making is just the residue, the things that rise to the top of culture. So how do we begin to fund arts and culture work that sits at these intersections—issues like land and food access? And how can arts and culture be a tool to move those things in a community forward in a way that centers joy? Solutions are going to take creative energy, creative genius. That's the power of art. I would love to see more funders starting to fund at the intersections of how all of these things are connected, and not just narrow it down to just one expression or one issue.

Justice Funders: There's been a lot of talk about participatory grantmaking, but I think what we're seeing evolve is even something beyond that—funders actually giving up control to the community. What would be your advice to funders that are wanting to step into this type of work? How can they design and launch funding vehicles that are truly owned and controlled by the community? 

Joe T: Become more experimental, and be okay with flexing that experimental muscle. I think that experimentation, creativity, and approach is what's gonna be the pathway forward. Part of that experiment is failure. Failure is one of the things that allows us to continue because this by no means has been a perfect journey, by any stretch of the imagination.  An ability to constantly learn is a lifeline, because you get to always iterate forward and get better at it. 

The impact we have had is directly tied to the fact that we make sure that artists are involved in creating funds or funding mechanisms that we're exploring. It's oftentimes a slower process when you're working with community members—folks who have never gotten a grant before, or who didn't even know grants were a thing. And so part of our work is introducing them to this whole other world. In order to do this type of work well, you also have to build in education about finance, about grants, and the way our culture has structured institutions around money. 

I would also let funders know that it's not a bad thing to share power. I think that's ultimately what the fearful thing is: If we give power to the community, we'll never have it back. And, again, our impact is tied directly to artists and leaders of arts organizations being tied to the creation and the maintenance of the work. We meet and we talk about finances. We talk about where we are and how we're going to get to our vision of what we want Waymakers to be in the future. If grantmakers can do those things, I think that could move philanthropy into a more shared power situation, and not just hoarding power and inviting people into a process. To me, those two things often get conflated. Just because I bring you into the process doesn't mean I'm actually sharing power with you. That just means I'm saying, “Hey, come into this process that I designed for you to be a part of.” And that's what I'm hoping that we get beyond and actually start sharing power to where I trust you to be a co-architect and a co-visionary.

Reading Jessica Norwood's “Believe in You Money” and reading the work of Justice Funders and others in this non-extractive finance world was a mind-expanding moment for me. A lot of the additional support that we've gotten [in the region by outside foundations] has been restricted project grants, typically a $5,000 grant. I'm in no way minimizing the impact that $5,000 can have on a working artist who has never gotten a grant before. I don't want to make it seem like I'm minimizing it, but when people begin to acquire assets and buildings, that project grant can't touch any of those needs. So, in this moment, I wonder how we might create the things our communities need to exist, to fill in the gaps. 

What are the ways that we can stretch this notion and practice of community control? What would it be to have artists involved in maintaining and making decisions in partnership with finance people? What could that look like? And how could that then fill the needs that people are having in this moment of the polycrisis? Maybe a non-extractive loan fund could be the answer to that. To be able to give more than $5,000. What would it be to support an organization to maintain their building with $100,000? 

We're going to start with a survey to see what people's actual needs are and how this could potentially fill their needs. And then we’ll invite them via the Waymakers’ Steering Committee to start to dream and put flesh and bones to this idea. Shout out to Invest Appalachia because they have been patient partners as we move through this very slow incremental process. It has been good for letting me see all of the possibilities of capital and how grants are just one part of a bigger capital portfolio or stack of money.

Justice Funders: There's a lot of ancestral knowledge that exists around that. And I think about especially places like Central Appalachia and the American South, where you've had giving circles and communities doing this type of thing. Not just mutual aid, but literally lending for a very long time, hundreds of years. 

Joe T: Yeah, we know the blueprint. We just have to do it and have people help us to bring it to scale. A solution on scale with the problems that we're seeing. 

Justice Funders: You have done this work for a long time. What is your why? Why is this work important, especially now? What's at stake for philanthropy?

Joe T: I got my start at a Black-led arts organization. What I thought was normal then, I now see as very not normal. 

What am I talking about? The constant under-resourcing of amazing work. I thought it was normal to be like, “Okay, we can do this program this year, but we may not be able to do it next year.” Or, “Oh, we got just enough to do it next year, but we'll have to worry about how to continue with it  the following year.” 

It was a constant seesaw of the flow of resources. My young, straight-out-of-high-school self thought that that was the way things worked. Experiencing that and then seeing that organization turn 50 only to go under was really heartbreaking. 

That heartbreak is what makes me want to make sure that other Appalachian arts organizations, smaller community-based organizations, never have to go through that to sustain a legacy on a shoestring.

The arts bring people together—truly—across differences. Conversations can be had in art that would be a fight at a city council meeting. And so it's reframing how to use the arts as a strategic mechanism to advance the community's agenda for itself. That can't happen without right-sized investments to make sure that these people can continue their work in ways that take the stress out of it. How much more would artists expand their work? Thinking about these things is important to me because I've been the personal beneficiary of many types of arts organizations.

I'll just say this for anybody who is skeptical about the model that we're trying to bring to philanthropy: I'm here to say it works. Because, since 2020, we've given $1.7M through an artist-led process directly to arts organizations on the ground. That is huge to me, because for a lot of these people, we are their first interaction with philanthropy. To me, this is proof that it works. It may take a little longer. You may have to adjust timelines, do a lot more educating, and foundational level-setting work—but it truly is important. I look at the folks who serve on our Steering Committee, and they've gone on to continue to do so many amazing things. Their confidence level has changed through being a trusted decision-maker in philanthropic processes. That's the why. And we're proof that it can work if you trust us to do so.

Justice Funders: Any, any last words you would want the foundation world to know? 

Joe T: Innovation is happening in Appalachia, in the South, and there are things that people can learn from us because of the creativity we've had to marshal to ensure that the organizations in our community survive. Trust us, learn from us. Don't buy into the common narrative that nothing good happens in the South, in Appalachia. Because I'm here to tell you, and this work is proof that narrative is a lie. Come and partner with us.