The South’s Got Something to Say: Stories from Black Women in the South

Editors’ Note: This article was originally written for the Spring 2025 issue of Nonprofit Quarterly Magazine, “How Women of Color in the South Are Reclaiming Space.”

To be a Black woman in and/or from the South is a calling.

As a daughter of the Mississippi Delta and Black woman in the South, so many narratives about me have been told without me. My body, as trauma specialist Bessel van der Kolk would say, keeps the score.

Nevertheless, as a journalist, entrepreneur, mental health counselor, evaluator, and now foundation program officer, I have had the opportunity to combine and crystallize the importance of storytelling, leadership, healing, and lived expertise.

What I have learned during my career is to not be consumed with reclaiming or taking up space but rather to embrace and share power. Doing so allows me to make and create space, transforming community by practicing a healing justice made possible through the very essence of my being. I am not alone in my journey and have called upon some other Black women in the South to share their stories as narratives for all.

As a daughter of the Mississippi Delta and Black woman in the South, so many narratives about me have been told without me.

What follows are short stories from seven Black women leaders in the South whom I interviewed, highlighting the assets that Black women bring to our work, the nation, and the world just by being our whole selves and by being experts of our lived experiences in the place that we call home.

Taking Care While Carrying the Mantle of Education

It has been argued that, because the South did such a great job of setting up structures in this nation that harmed generations of Black people, Indigenous people, and people of color, the nation should turn back to the South to learn how to create new structures that benefit us all. The South is the fastest growing region in the country and home to 56 percent of the nation’s Black children, as well as an increasingly diverse student population. Yet only 3 percent of the country’s philanthropic resources make their way to this region, even less to public education.

Sara Sneed, president and CEO of the NEA Foundation, called this plight a “travesty” and insists that more philanthropic investments must flow to the South to transform public education.

“Perhaps I feel this injustice so acutely because I am a Black woman, a daughter of the South, and the proud daughter of a celebrated educator,” Sneed shared. “My mother, who passed away in 2018 at the age of 105, was a trailblazer and leader of Rosenwald Schools in Mississippi. I want to believe that everyone with open eyes and an open heart can see both the urgent need and the extraordinary opportunity for targeted, strategic investments in the South, but the data tells a different story.”

During the past four years under her leadership, the NEA Foundation has fostered transformative partnerships among families, schools, and communities across Arkansas, Louisiana, and Mississippi.

“It’s a tremendous honor to work alongside communities that honor many different ways of ‘knowing’ and value creating a shared understanding of what’s at stake,” said Sneed.

“It’s healing,” she added, “to make space for community conversations—people just coming together to dream, to plan, sometimes to grieve together, and sometimes to vent and then let the anger go.” This, Sneed noted, enables people to recognize that “we can overcome conflict and move on in the interest of the common good, that we don’t have to buy into false narratives that would suggest we are irreconcilably divided.”

One thing that brings joy for Sneed is cultivating young talent, as she wants to see more people of color in philanthropy. Maintaining her prayer life and engaging in spiritual fellowships are restorative practices she employs as an ordained preacher. Being with other Black women who are invested in change processes creates space to share stories, laugh, and cry together. It is also a place where she is encouraged to rest. What keeps her going, Sneed said, is reflecting on her ancestors and the mantle she was left to carry forward.

“Their legacies have borne witness to me of the true meaning of personal power,” Sneed said, “The power to stand, speak, and transform not only local communities, but the moral fabric and soul of an entire country.”

Shifting Power Within Philanthropy

Southern, rural, Black identities have not always been found in rooms where decisions are being made about collective futures. Keecha Harris, president and CEO of Keecha Harris and Associates, Inc. (KHA), aims to change that. Harris has spent more than 25 years making space for racial equity, sincere investment, and power sharing among decision-making bodies across philanthropy. KHA, a company based in the South, is wholly invested in systems change and a liberated future in which society is more equitable.

A glimpse into Harris’s background helps make sense of her deep commitment to centering lived expertise and racial equity. She grew up in a small town of Black, White, and Native American residents and came from multiple generations of entrepreneurs. Harris stresses the importance of finding kindness, empathy, and compassion even in the toughest of fights.

“Building trust and connective tissue, especially in relationships traditionally tilted by power, is what creates the alchemy required to soar into a just future,” Harris said. “We’ve got to go into the impacted community and really listen to those closest to the problems, devote significant time in creating shared language through translation, and only then will solutions emerge.”

Harris emphasizes that offensive or proactive philanthropic tactics—those that work to advance mission-related goals, rather than react defensively to external influences—are critical. She shared how she began to uplift this notion of offensive philanthropic tactics due to the well-organized effort to derail racial equity and justice, not just in the South, but throughout the United States.

“Reclaiming space could look like strengthening our commitments through organizing legal infrastructure and support, increasing general operating support to grantees, creating space for dialogue and strategizing with like-minded funders to maximize support in local areas in the South, and simply continuing to be leaderful within the realm of reality,” she concluded.

Centering Community Leadership

“Working as a Black woman program officer at a private foundation in the South, specifically the Arkansas Delta, means navigating a historically exclusive philanthropic landscape while striving to uplift marginalized voices, advocate for culturally informed funding priorities, and foster authentic partnerships with grassroots leaders,” shared Joyvin Benton, a program officer at the Carl B. and Florence E. King Foundation.

She added that centering community leadership “involves acknowledging how history has shaped our present reality while remaining hopeful in the people and communities served, who continue to be resilient, resourceful, and innovative.”

As a Black woman and a mother, Benton leans into her social identities to inform her work and keep her steadfast in a commitment to equity and justice. Being both Black and female has sharpened her ability to discern the nuances and assets often overlooked by those outside her community, she explained. This perspective empowers her advocacy for solutions rooted in relationships and lived expertise in communities rather than assumptions.

“Weaving and nurturing relationships in my work means investing time, care, and genuine effort into understanding the ecosystem of a community—its influencers, gatekeepers, unsung leaders, and those too often overlooked—while ensuring that everyone feels seen, valued, and included in the decision-making process,” she explained. “This is particularly critical in the South, in which close-knit networks and deep-rooted histories shape community trust and power dynamics.”

As a part of her journey, Benton discussed how she learned that she must not shrink back or be marginalized in conversations or decisions that shape the region’s future.

“It involves recognizing that my heritage, culture, perspective, and experiences belong at the center, not the periphery, of how we envision a better South. The space I define and reclaim is one where my voice is not only heard but actively sought out, where I stand shoulder to shoulder with grassroots leaders, elders, and emerging changemakers, co-creating solutions that honor our shared histories and affirm our collective dignity,” she said.

“By doing this, I challenge the status quo, expand whose stories are told, and reinforce that our region’s strength is found in the vibrancy and diversity of all its communities.” Reclaiming space in the South, she added, contributes to “the soul of the nation by reminding us all that genuine progress emerges when every voice counts, every perspective is valued, and every community is allowed to thrive.”

Anchoring in Place-Based Social Impact

Christal Jackson, founder of Head and Heart Philanthropy, is intricately linked to the South. Being a Black woman with ties to Mississippi, Louisiana, and Texas, Jackson recently announced that she would be shifting her efforts in social impact to the South as the pinnacle of a 15-year learning journey.

“The South provides us with the chance to connect closely with underserved communities that have historically lacked the same access and opportunities as others in the United States. We are confident that our work will positively alter the course of many lives for generations ahead,” she shared.

Jackson noted the importance of relationships in the South as communities navigate persistent challenges. As she put it, “Without individuals, there would be no purpose in this work. Therefore, I consistently aim to prioritize people in my decisions and strategies. Even though my role may not be directly on the front line, I constantly consider the practitioners and the communities they strive to support.”

Making Sure Black Mothers Thrive

Fostering healing and wellbeing in an organization and its efforts often starts within the leader. Nakeitra Burse, founder and executive director of public health firm Six Dimensions, LLC, is addressing her own fears and personal traumas to foster healing and wellbeing by centering Black maternal health.

“Our vision is that Black women are able to have the prenatal, birth, and postpartum experiences that they deserve and desire, free of fear,” she shared.

Burse shared that her identity as a Black woman is a blessing to her work as it allows her to embody what can be possible through her efforts. “There are things that we experience as Black women, currently and historically, that do not have a name. But when we speak to those experiences, as Black women, it creates community and validates the experience,” Burse explained.

Burse shared that her partnerships and relationships with others in Mississippi and across the region are critical as well, emphasizing how her partners often become deeply connected, caring about each other’s families and personal wellbeing. To build such trust, however, requires shifting from traditional ways of working together so that deeper cultural norms can emerge and solidify a shared vision.

“It means to shed the community norms. It means challenging the systems. It also means to challenge cultural norms and create spaces that are safe for Black women,” Burse said. “But taking up space also means determining what we will and will not give our energy to in this work. It requires intimately watching motives and keeping our space sacred in some respects.”

Cultural Work

As a child, Anasa Troutman visited a former plantation during a school field trip in South Carolina. Her parents had already taught her US history at home, so she was baffled by the erasure and blatant lies she was told during her “learning” experience. Thus, it makes sense that years later Troutman would lead The BIG We, a Memphis-based organization that works with Southern communities to leverage their innate cultural assets for their own economic, political, and narrative power.

Troutman identifies as a Black woman, artist, storyteller, creative, spiritual being, lover of the divine, and person known for bringing people together in healing spaces. Through her work stewarding the Historic Clayborn Temple (which, alas, must now recover from a devastating fire set by an arsonist in April 2025) and the birth home of Aretha Franklin, she has kept some of the most powerful stories of the South, working to not only acknowledge their history but also allow them to guide how the future is built for everyone. Troutman boldly proclaims that her work is a literal expression of all that she has experienced and all that she wants to create for the communities that she lives in.

“The reason we approach our work with a cultural lens is because we believe that policies and practices that break people come from cultures that are broken. The only pathway we have forward is to heal our culture. It is the only way that we can heal our communities in ways that will last past the next election or the next policy change, or the next grant cycle,” she shared.

Troutman illustrated how relationships serve as compasses and barometers of progress. Navigating the human connection is the only way to transform collective realities, she said. Strong, healthy, and transparent relationships across the board create pathways to build sustainable work and healing, a concept that she feels the South is uniquely positioned to address.

“The South is the wound of America, and maybe of the world. It is the most powerful place for us to do our healing work. When the South begins to heal, the world will be a more humane and beautiful place,” she added.

Leveraging Data and Stories

Fundraising and evaluation expert Michelle Bidwell identifies as a Christian, Black woman, disaster survivor, child, grandchild, niece of breast cancer survivors, wife, and mother. She is also a public health practitioner living in Louisiana and CEO and founder of Granted Advisors, an organization that supports nonprofits and foundations in the South.

Bidwell grew up in New Orleans and can clearly remember the nonprofits that shaped her childhood, exposing her to art, music, culture, religion, creative writing, and mentors who still inspire her today. She remembers how those same groups were there in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina when help was harder than ever to come by. Many of those organizations, however, are no longer around today.

“Their impact and investment live on in my success and identity,” Bidwell shared. “My lived experiences remind me why this work matters so deeply. My identity is a testament to the tenacity and the power of community, and I leverage it as an asset in my work to help secure a better future for us all.”

For Bidwell, taking up and reclaiming space in the South means owning our stories, and our data, and securing the tools and resources needed to thrive.

We can learn a lot from Black women in the South when we truly listen to them.

For far too long, Southern communities, especially in rural areas, have been overlooked for robust grant funding, with little to no access or “know-how” to collect their own disaggregated data and stories that shed light on the full picture and depth of disparities in our region. Bidwell added that reclaiming space is about changing that narrative, ensuring that the South’s unique challenges and strengths are both acknowledged and addressed in ways that are led by those with lived expertise.

“By integrating storytelling with fundraising and evaluation, I strive to bring life, color, and authenticity to a field that too often reduces communities to numbers. This work impacts the soul of the nation by amplifying the South’s voice and its potential, which is often forgotten or overshadowed,” she concluded.

Listening to Black Women in the South

We can learn a lot from Black women in the South when we truly listen to them. I hope the brief stories offered here are the start of a longer conversation.

Trusting relationships are critical in the South, and we know that it takes time to build and sustain them.

However, we, as Black women in the South, have a transformative, nurturing power that we embody through our literal, cultural being. Our presence is the greatest asset we bring to our work. And it can foster peace and healing even in the harshest of times.