The nonprofit sector is undergoing an equity awakening. Over the last five years, organizations have adopted racial equity statements; created DEI positions; and reimagined their missions through a justice-oriented lens. In the wake of federal attacks on the very idea of racial justice, many nonprofits and funders have rightly fought back and recommitted to the cause.
Yet there is one neglected equity arena: how we pay Black women leaders, especially those in democracy-focused organizations.
Late last month, we marked Women’s Equality Day, the anniversary of women winning the right to vote. It’s an ideal time to remember that voter suppression laws kept Black women from widespread voting until the passage of the Voting Rights Act in 1965. It’s also a necessary moment to uplift the need to fairly compensate the Black women fighting to protect democracy in this extremely challenging political moment.
Nonprofits and the Wealth-Proximate Problem
Despite leading organizations through tumultuous political times, managing budgets under relentless pressure, and producing measurable and meaningful impact, Black women CEOs and executive directors in nonprofits are consistently underpaid. On average, according to the Institute for Women’s Policy Research, Black women in the United States that White men earn. This wage gap widens with increased education, meaning it persists at the top of nonprofit leadership.
The habit in nonprofits of underpaying leaders in the name of mission-driven sacrifice is not neutral.
A 2020 study from Echoing Green and the Bridgespan Group highlighted that Black women leaders are more likely than White peers to lead underfunded organizations and are less likely to receive unrestricted or multiyear support. According to philanthropy’s own data, Black women–led nonprofits receive smaller grants on average and face greater hurdles in accessing funders’ networks.
This is on top of being treated poorly. The 2019 Race to Lead survey found that Black women reported experiencing discrimination or harassment more than any other group. Respondents to the survey also shared the daily struggles they encounter despite their title or expertise, such as being asked if they’re someone’s assistant or being routinely passed over for a raise.
The pay gap is not merely a reflection of bias in hiring or promotion—it is embedded in how philanthropy and nonprofit governance define leadership itself. For decades, salary expectations in the nonprofit sector have been rooted in a White, wealth-proximate model, one that assumes a leader can “afford” to take below-market pay because they have other sources of income or wealth.
This assumption holds only if a leader has generational wealth, a partner with a high-paying job, or a financial safety net—all privileges far less common for Black women. The median wealth of White women in the United States is about five times that of Black women, and the gap between Black women and White men is unsurprisingly even higher. This difference is the cumulative result of centuries of discriminatory policies in housing, lending, and labor markets.
The habit in nonprofits of underpaying leaders in the name of mission-driven sacrifice is not neutral. It is both racist and classist. It places Black women in the untenable position of being asked to save democracy, build stronger communities, and take on some of the most emotionally and politically difficult work while being denied the financial security necessary to sustain themselves and their families.
The , the first Black woman president of the Insight Center for Community and Economic Development, underscores this reality. Despite doubling organizational revenue and receiving national recognition, Price was consistently paid far less than her predecessor and forced to endure repeated denials of equitable compensation and respect from her board. Finally, she quit, and the rest of the staff followed suit to form the Maven Collaborative, a nonprofit that explicitly centers Black women in its research and advocacy.
Even when Black women do achieve pay equity, too often that salary becomes a source of suspicion. Board members may face external pressure to explain the organization’s compensation decisions, or funders may suddenly scrutinize line items or ask whether those dollars could be “better spent” elsewhere. The leader herself may be asked—directly or indirectly—to justify her worth in ways her White peers are not.
This is not about charity; it is about investing in the people without whom our democracy will falter.
The Domino Effect
This is not simply about fairness to individuals, though that alone should be motivation enough. Chronic underpayment of Black women leaders damages entire organizations. Low compensation drives burnout, increases turnover, and forces leaders to take on side jobs or consulting work to make ends meet.
The instability this creates is especially harmful in democracy-focused nonprofits, where leadership transitions can disrupt relationships with grassroots partners, pause critical voter engagement programs, or stall advocacy campaigns at pivotal moments. Association for Black Foundation Executives confirms that multiyear, fully funded leadership correlates strongly with organizational effectiveness and long-term impact. Moreover, retaining strong Black women leaders means valuing their lived experience, strategic skill, and the trust they’ve built with communities—and compensating them accordingly.
Leadership in democracy-focused organizations requires navigating hostile laws, disinformation campaigns, and voter suppression efforts, all while building bridges across diverse constituencies. These are not roles that can be filled easily when someone burns out or is forced to leave due to financial reasons.
There are specific and actionable steps organizations and funders can take right now to close the compensation gap:
- Adopt compensation philosophies that account for the racial wealth gap. Boards and executive search committees should start negotiations from a place of equity, not austerity. Salaries should reflect both the market rate and an understanding that Black women leaders are less likely to have supplementary income or assets.
- Use equitable benchmarking tools. Traditional salary benchmarking often replicates inequities by taking the median of already biased pay scales. Compensation should be compared across organizations of similar scope and complexity but also tested against equity benchmarks to ensure it does not perpetuate racial disparities.
- Fund unrestricted, multiyear grants. Philanthropy needs to move past “pilot project” short-term funding cycles. Black women–led organizations that receive consistent, flexible funding are better able to pay their leaders competitively, build reserves, and plan for growth.
- Normalize defending fair pay. Boards must anticipate external scrutiny and be prepared to explain not why they pay a Black woman CEO well, but why everyone in that position should be paid fairly. Fair pay should be a baseline expectation, not a special exception.
- Tie pay equity to public commitments. If an organization has a racial equity statement, its payroll should reflect it. Funders making public commitments to racial justice should require grantees to implement equitable pay practices—and should model those practices within their own organizations.
Some will argue that nonprofits operate in a constrained funding environment and simply cannot afford higher salaries. But this framing obscures the power dynamics in play. If funders truly believe in the transformative work Black women are leading, then budgets should be built to sustain—not exploit—that leadership. This is not about charity; it is about investing in the people without whom our democracy will falter.
The stakes could not be higher. From defending voting rights to organizing communities under threat, Black women leaders are playing indispensable roles in holding the line for democracy. Their work shapes turnout in key elections, advances policies that expand access to the ballot, and mobilizes networks capable of rapid response in crises. History shows us that when Black women lead, communities—especially the most vulnerable—win. But history also shows us that their contributions have been undervalued, underfunded, and too often erased.
We are at a reckoning point. The nonprofit sector cannot continue to champion racial equity in its programming while quietly undermining it in its payroll practices. Fair pay for Black women in leadership positions is not a luxury item to be considered in prosperous years—it is a baseline requirement for ethical governance, organizational health, and sustained impact.
The question is no longer whether we can afford to pay Black women leaders equitably. The question is whether we can afford not to—for the health of our movements, for the strength of our institutions, and for the survival of the democratic ideals we claim to defend.
Justice work deserves just pay.
