The Nature of Firsts: A Sankofa Reflection on Legacy, Generosity, and the Path Ahead

The Sankofa bird flies forward while looking back, a single egg cradled gently in its beak. In Akan tradition, the egg is the future—fragile yet full of promise. Its gaze reminds us: the path ahead is best traveled with the wisdom and resilience of those who came before. [1]

This year’s Black Philanthropy Month theme, Sankofa Now! Remember. Reclaim. Rise., invites us to do just that: to carry forward the legacy of giving while honoring its deep roots in our history.

For me, that image is more than symbolic—it is an inheritance. As a Black woman in philanthropy, my life has been shaped by “firsts”: the first-born daughter of four, the first in my family to earn a four-year degree, the first full-time development director at two different organizations. But these milestones matter less than the egg—the collective legacy of generosity Black communities have carried for generations, protecting it so it might one day hatch into something enduring.

Firsts as an Invitation to Give Where We Are

From my home in Indianapolis, the legacy of ‘firsts’ feels close; nearby stands the church where Madam C.J. Walker once prayed [2]. As I write these words, I can see its old steeple—now transformed into a hotel—piercing the skyline. It’s a quiet yet profound reminder that history is not just something we read about; it’s woven into the landscape of our daily lives.

Madam C.J. Walker was the first American woman—of any race—to become a self-made millionaire, building an empire that transformed the beauty industry and expanded economic opportunity for Black women across the country. Yet, as much as her wealth was remarkable, it was her purposeful generosity that defined her legacy.

Walker’s philosophy was clear and deeply countercultural for her time. In a 1914 letter, she rejected the idea that generosity should wait for wealth to arrive, writing:

“I am unlike your white friends who have waited until they were rich and then help, but have in proportion to my success, I have reached out and am helping others.” [3]

This conviction—to give where you are—challenges the idea that generosity begins only when abundance has been secured. It is a discipline, a value, and a responsibility to be practiced in every season of life.

Her life is a personal compass for me, especially in a time when household giving in America is in decline. In 2024, U.S. charitable giving totaled an estimated $592.5 billion, up 6.3% in current dollars but only 3.3% after adjusting for inflation [4]. While the total is historically high in nominal terms, the share of U.S. households giving to charity has declined significantly. According to the Lilly Family School of Philanthropy, fewer than half of American households now donate—down from 66% in 2000 to just under 50% in recent years—marking a profound shift in the culture of everyday giving [5].

Yet within these sobering statistics, Black philanthropy remains a force, grounded in a tradition of mutual aid and collective care. Walker’s example reminds us that the egg we carry, like the Sankofa bird’s, must be tended daily—not when it’s convenient, but because the future depends on it.

The Legacy We Inherit

One of the reasons I am proudest to be a Black woman is our legacy of generosity. A few years ago, I unexpectedly lost my Aunt Cordelia—my birthday twin. Like so many matriarchs in my family, she embodied generosity without ever naming it as such. She volunteered tirelessly at her church, cared for aging relatives, and made recurring gifts to causes she loved.

She never waited for the “right time” to give. She gave because that’s what our people do—because we have always known that survival depends on what we offer one another. Her life was a quiet but profound reminder that philanthropy, in its truest sense, is about voluntary action for the public good, no matter the size or form it takes. 

I often return to our last encounter before I left for grad school in Indianapolis. She embraced me and said, “I am so proud of you”—a blessing before my journey had even begun. Those words still bring me to tears when grief finds me. Those words still bring me to tears when grief finds me. They carry the warmth of her pride into the present, reminding me that I, too, have an egg to protect.

This is the egg I carry: the example of women like my aunt, who understood that the small, consistent offerings of many can accomplish more than the monumental gestures of a few.

Black Philanthropy as the Original Infrastructure

Long before philanthropy became a profession, Black communities created their own systems of care: pooling resources in mutual aid societies, founding churches that doubled as schools and meeting halls, organizing civic groups that served as both cultural hubs and safety nets. 

These were not side projects; they were the infrastructure of survival and progress. They were the nest for the egg.

These traditions continue today. The Lilly Family School of Philanthropy reports that Black giving extends well beyond formal nonprofits, encompassing robust traditions of informal giving—helping family, supporting neighbors, and contributing directly to community needs. Education, human services, and civil rights remain top priorities for giving, alongside the enduring role of religious institutions as both spiritual centers and community service providers. [6]

Even as national household giving declines, these cultural practices persist. One sign of their vitality: between 2017 and 2023, giving circles and other collective funds grew dramatically—370,000 donors pooled more than $3.1 billion through nearly 4,000 groups, an increase of over 140%. Many of these circles are rooted in communities of color, embodying the same collective care that has sustained us for generations. [7]

Carrying the Egg Forward

The Sankofa bird teaches us that looking back is not nostalgia—it is strategy. The egg it carries is the future, and its backward gaze ensures the wisdom of the past protects what is yet to come.

When I think of the women who have carried this egg before me, two names rise instantly: my Aunt Cordelia and Madam C.J. Walker. One rooted in the intimate circle of my family, the other in the annals of American history—both matriarchs in their own right.

Aunt Cordelia’s generosity was steady and unassuming: a ride given, a meal cooked, a gift mailed faithfully to her favorite causes. Madam C.J. Walker carried that same instinct on a grand scale. From her home here in Indianapolis, she built an empire and, in proportion to her success, reached back to lift others.

Both women remind me that the egg is not ours to keep—it belongs to the future. 

Remember the matriarchs who shaped us. 

Reclaim the power to decide where our resources flow. 

Rise to build systems and networks strong enough to protect our shared legacy.

The Sankofa bird moves forward with purpose because it knows the worth of what it carries. So must we. And as long as we tend to this egg—together—the future will have something strong, sacred, and enduring to hatch from.

References

• Back Black Movement. (n.d.). Black Philanthropy Month. Retrieved from https://backblackmovement.org/blackphilanthropymonth
• Freeman, T. (2020). Madam C.J. Walker’s gospel of giving: Black women’s philanthropy during Jim Crow. University of Illinois Press.
• Giving Compass. (2024). 2024 round-up: The thriving landscape of collective giving. Retrieved from https://givingcompass.org/partners/giving-circles/2024-round-up-the-thriving-landscape-of-collective-giving
• Giving USA. (2025). Giving USA 2025: U.S. charitable giving grew to $592.50 billion in 2024, lifted by stock market gains. Retrieved from https://givingusa.org/giving-usa-2025-u-s-charitable-giving-grew-to-592-50-billion-in-2024-lifted-by-stock-market-gains/
• Indiana University Lilly Family School of Philanthropy. (2024, October 24). Drop in share of Americans who give to charity accelerated in first year of COVID-19, even as average amount given rose. Retrieved from https://philanthropy.indianapolis.iu.edu/news-events/news/_news/2024/drop-in-share-of-americans-who-give-to-charity-accelerated-in-first-year-of-covid-19-even-as-average-amount-given-rose.html
• Indianapolis Encyclopedia. (n.d.). Madam C.J. Walker. Retrieved from https://indyencyclopedia.org/madam-c-j-walker/
  Indiana University Lilly Family School of Philanthropy. (2024). Philanthropy among Black households. Retrieved from https://scholarworks.indianapolis.iu.edu/server/api/core/bitstreams/6b8c2e97-ab05-4c0c-bf19-e7438953c53b/content

AI Transparency Statement

This article was developed and written by me, with all key concepts, anecdotes, and points of view originating from my lived experiences and professional expertise. Artificial intelligence was used as a collaborative tool to refine grammar, enhance flow, and integrate supporting research, while the independent research and narrative direction were shaped entirely by me—grounded in the quality education I received through the Philanthropic Studies Master’s Program at the Lilly Family School of Philanthropy.

I share this transparency because I believe in modeling ethical uses of AI: tools that augment, not replace, the creativity, judgment, and authenticity of the author. Writing this piece was a beautiful, meaningful process, and I am deeply honored to have had the opportunity to reflect on this topic and contribute my voice to the conversation.