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Cut Us, and We Bleed Compassion

Updated: 5 days ago


THE FACES BEHIND THE NUMBERS

In these strange times, when federal funding is frozen or slashed, the cuts don’t fall evenly. They land squarely on the backs of those least able to carry more weight. It’s not true that we are all in the same boat. We’re not. Boat size is not meted out fairly. But we are all in the same storm.


It’s not the CEOs or the lobbyists who feel the squeeze. It’s the working mom trying to find after-school care she can afford. It’s the veteran sleeping rough under a bridge. It’s the family living paycheck to paycheck — one unexpected bill away from disaster. It’s the kid depending on free lunch at school because there’s no dinner at home.


And it’s the local nonprofits — the lean, scrappy, fierce armies of compassion — that are forced to do more with less. Again. 


Imagine, for a moment, federal funding cuts or eliminations to just five out of the many wonderful nonprofits in our community - Spectrum Community Services, TriValley Haven, CityServe, Hively, and Open Heart Kitchen - who rely on federal dollars to the tune of almost $28 million annually. Just a 5% cut or roughly $1.4 million dollars - would rip the safety net wide open.


You would see:

  • Hunger spike

  • Homelessness rise

  • Domestic violence survivors turned away

  • Seniors rationing food and feeling more isolated

  • Families plunging into deeper cycles of poverty


And it would all happen quietly, cruelly, and quickly.


THE QUIET COLLAPSE

And it won’t make the front page. It’ll happen in whispers — evictions, ER visits, victims suffering in silent desperation until their snuffed out by their abusers.


Of course, the world should not be this way. But it is. And because it is, it means that we can’t afford to see nonprofits as merely extras in the story of a thriving community. They are the infrastructure — as essential as the roads we drive and the water we drink. They are the ones picking up the pieces when systems fail, when policies fall short, when society looks away, when the police investigation is over, and the last firefighter leaves the home. 


TRAUMA DOESN'T KEEP A CALENDAR, BUT IT DOES KEEP SCORE

Because no one is ever really in the rearview mirror. Trauma and pain, and suffering do not respect our timelines of past, present, and future.

When federal dollars dry up, the cracks get wider — and nonprofits are left trying to stitch up the wounds of an entire community with little more than heart and hope.


We call this the “downstream effect.” But let’s be real: it’s not a gentle stream. It’s a flood. A flood of need, of suffering, of voices calling out for help in a country that promised them dignity.


And when the water rises, municipalities — local governments, town halls, city councils — must be ready to act, to stand in the breach.


FIVE STEPS TO A JUST AND READY COMMUNITY


Here’s what that looks like:


First, we must create municipal emergency relief funds for nonprofits, just like disaster relief. Because a funding freeze is a disaster — it just doesn't come with dramatic news footage. It comes with slow erosion: kids falling out of school, families falling into homelessness, elders falling through the cracks.


Second, we must treat nonprofits like the critical partners they are — not afterthoughts, not charities begging for scraps — but essential pillars of a just society. At every turn, invite them into planning rooms, into budget meetings, into decision-making bodies. Trust their expertise because, as my friend James King reminds me - those closest to the pain are also the ones closest to the solutions.


Third, local funding must be flexible. Not shackled by unnecessary red tape and bureaucratic hoop-jumping. 


Fourth, we must empower our people — community-led budgeting must become the norm. It is crucial that we hear from those who live the reality of injustice every day, because they are best equipped to tell us how to fix it. We ignore their wisdom at our peril.


Finally, we must lift the narrative. We must tell the truth loudly: that an investment in nonprofits is an investment in safety, in stability, in humanity. Every dollar cut at the federal level must become a rallying cry for local action, not a shrug of the shoulders.


BUDGETS ARE MORAL DOCUMENTS

Budgets aren’t just numbers. They are declarations. Declarations of who we believe deserves a future.


We are better than policies that abandon the vulnerable. We are better than politics that sees suffering as a rounding error.


If federal leaders will not safeguard our communities, then we must — fiercely, creatively, and unapologetically — do so at the local level.


A nation is not judged by the strength of its armies or the size of its buildings or the number of its oligarchs and sycophants - but by whether it leaves anyone standing alone in the storm.


We must continue being the shelter. We must continue being the lifeline. 


Let’s be the ones who refuse to let the storm have the last word.


Not on our watch.

Not in our town.

Not in our name.


Every dollar we invest in nonprofits is a declaration.


It says...

We honor you.

You matter.

You are not invisible.

You are not disposable or discardable.


And when we do that — when we answer cuts with compassion, when we meet scarcity with solidarity — we are not just protecting services.


We are protecting the soul of our communities.


On behalf of my nonprofit family - 1.8 million organizations employing over 12 million dreamers and hope-makers across the country - standing in the breach, and building an infrastructure of hope one day at a time.


Thank you.







 
 
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