This Giving Tuesday, look to formerly incarcerated leaders who are transforming communities

We invest in the leaders most affected by the justice system and therefore most familiar with it, including formerly incarcerated people and families directly affected by the system.

Running the Illinois youth prison system made it abundantly clear to me that youth and adult criminal justice is a local issue.

Today, I serve as the CEO of a national philanthropic foundation. My job is to shepherd resources into the hands of people reimagining and reforming the justice system. We have determined the best way to do that is to “give local.”

When I arrived at Public Welfare Foundation six years ago, we prioritized hyperlocal investments. Our mission was to develop direct relationships with the organizations we fund. By working closely together, we get a more granular understanding of what’s happening in those sites. We can see their impact in a way that isn’t clear from a national perspective, all while fostering collaborative work among like-minded organizations.

But it’s not just how we fund that matters; who we fund also matters. Going local means investing in people. We invest in the leaders most affected by the justice system and therefore most familiar with it, including formerly incarcerated people and families directly affected by the system.

Research from the Brennan Center for Justice indicates there are 7.7 million Americans who have been imprisoned at some point in their lives; more than 12 million Americans who have been convicted of a felony without being imprisoned for it; and about 45 million people who have been convicted of at least one misdemeanor. According to Families Against Mandatory Minimums, half of voting age Americans have been directly affected by our nation’s justice system.

There is a groundswell of advocacy for the formerly incarcerated by the formerly incarcerated. These leaders know what it feels like to be incarcerated. They understand collateral consequences. They have done the work necessary to rebuild their own lives, and they’re well equipped to support the work of rebuilding the communities that have been ravaged by mass incarceration. They are the “future-formers” shaping a more stable and abundant future from the wisdom gained in a former life.

They are everywhere. There’s Khalil Halim, executive director of Colorado’s Second Chance Center, a local nonprofit that developed a national reentry model. There’s Syrita Steib, who advocates for formerly incarcerated women at Operation Restoration in New Orleans. There’s Courtney Stewart, founder and CEO of the National Reentry Network for Returning Citizens in Washington, D.C. There are many more, and their methods are more effective at preventing recidivism than those used by the American carceral system, the type of system I used to run.

Halim, Steib, Stewart and others like them are building a mosaic of desperately needed solutions to create an approach to justice that serves everyone equally and leads to restoration, rather than destruction.

It may sound unconventional to ask donors — foundations and individuals alike — to bet on formerly incarcerated leaders. But the truth is that we can’t afford not to. We know what our current system delivers: inhumane tactics that do little or nothing to improve public and personal safety, yet cost the country billions. Sticking with the status quo is far riskier than doing nothing to support these leaders.

Our grantmaking portfolio includes organizations led by formerly incarcerated leaders in every state where we work. These are committed, innovative and disciplined leaders, and their work is effective. They understand the conditions that increase the risk of incarceration and the urgency of reforming the justice system. They’ve often spent decades thinking about how to break the hold of mass incarceration in our nation. That was true of Shannon Ross, who founded The Community reentry program in Milwaukee during his incarceration. Ross’s work emphasizes mental health and “changing the narrative” of stigma around incarceration.

The impact of giving locally, and specifically to justice-impacted leaders, cannot be overstated. Let’s count the ways.

1. Giving local makes communities safer. Research shows that every 10 local nonprofits created to confront violence and support the community led to a 9 percent drop in the murder rate in a typical city.

2. Those most harmed by the system bring unique perspectives to help pave a new path. We desperately need new perspectives in this work. That’s why my organization supports leaders like Bridgette Simpson, founder of Barred Business, an Atlanta-based nonprofit instrumental in prohibiting discrimination against individuals with criminal convictions. And Frederick “Gino” Womack, founder of Operation Good in Jackson, Mississippi, a nonprofit focused on violence interruption and community support.

3. Hyperlocal giving provides a sense of purpose. We feel a little less hopeless when we’re a part of the change we seek. My mom loves to volunteer, and she loves to call me when she does. She will get frustrated by something, then go volunteer. There are a couple of organizations she volunteers for, such as My Block, My City, My Hood. There’s a community garden in Chicago. She’ll go out and help them weed. She always feels better when she does. Like my mom, we can choose not to retreat into hopelessness, but do something about it.

For all of these reasons and more, I am passionate about giving local and betting big on formerly incarcerated leaders who have the vision and courage to help us reimagine a nation that prioritizes safety and justice for all of its residents. Proximate giving — investing in the work happening in our own backyards — isn’t just for those of us who work in philanthropy. It is something we can all be a part of this Giving Tuesday, and all year round.

Candice C. Jones is president and CEO of the Public Welfare Foundation in Washington, D.C. Previously, she served as senior advisor at Chicago CRED, an organization that focuses on gun violence in Chicago, and as Director of the Illinois Department of Juvenile Justice.