Latest / The Good Fight: People Fighting for Justice & Change / Healing the Earth: Strategic Giving for Indigenous Land Rights | The Good Fight
Transcript
- The ground beneath your feet has been listening to stories older than language, and right now, it is asking us to listen back. It’s not enough to just feel bad about what’s happening; we have to get our hands dirty in the right soil. I want you to take a second, right where you are, and put your hand flat against something solid. Maybe it’s your desk, maybe it’s the arm of your chair, or maybe it’s the floor if you’re sitting on it. Feel that stability? That weight? For many Indigenous communities across this land, that stability isn’t guaranteed. It’s being fought for, day by day, with a resilience that would make most of us collapse under the pressure. I’ve spent years working in nonprofit spaces, watching well-meaning people throw money at problems because they wanted to fix them quickly. But justice isn’t a quick fix. It’s a slow, deliberate practice of restoring balance. When we talk about supporting Indigenous land rights, we aren’t talking about charity. We are talking about restitution. We are talking about acknowledging that the land was taken through force, through broken treaties, and through systemic erasure. And now, the question becomes, how do we help return that power? Not just symbolically, but materially. Because land is not just dirt and trees. It is culture. It is food sovereignty. It is spiritual healing. It is the physical space where history happens. So when we look at strategic giving here, we have to shift our mindset from 'helping' to 'partnering.' From 'donating' to 'investing' in their future. Let’s get practical about what that actually looks like, because I know some of you are nodding along, thinking, 'I agree, Judy, but how do I actually do this without causing more harm?' That hesitation you might be feeling? That’s normal. It means you’re paying attention. Too often, when Western donors think about Indigenous issues, they think about writing a check to a large, national organization. Now, don’t get me wrong, those organizations do important work. But there is a risk in that distance. You lose the nuance. You lose the local context. Strategic giving for land rights requires us to go closer to the source. It means finding the tribal land trusts, the grassroots collectives, the specific legal defense funds that are currently battling pipeline projects or fighting for water rights in their own backyards. These groups are often small. They might not have flashy websites or viral TikTok campaigns. They are busy. They are on the front lines. And they need resources that respect their autonomy. This means unrestricted funding. Yes, I said it. Unrestricted. Big donors love to attach strings. They want to know exactly which tree gets planted or which lawsuit gets filed. But Indigenous leaders know best what their communities need. Sometimes they need legal fees. Sometimes they need childcare so their organizers can attend meetings. Sometimes they need to buy land outright before a developer swoops in. When you give unrestricted funds, you are saying, 'I trust your judgment. I trust your leadership.' That is a radical act of humility in a world that loves to micromanage change. It shifts the power dynamic from donor-controlled to community-led. And that shift is everything. We need to dismantle a story that has been told to us since childhood. The story that the land was empty. That it was wilderness waiting to be tamed. If you look at maps of North America before colonization, you will see roads. You will see cities. You will see complex agricultural systems that managed the ecosystem for thousands of years. The land was never empty. It was stewarded. It was loved. It was known. Today, when we support Indigenous land rights, we are supporting the return of that stewardship. Science is finally catching up to what Indigenous peoples have known for millennia. They understand fire as a tool, not just a disaster. They understand water cycles in ways that modern engineering struggles to replicate. By returning land to Indigenous control, we are not just doing justice for the people; we are saving the planet. Think about that. Climate change is largely a crisis of mismanagement. Who manages the land better than those who have lived in harmony with it for centuries? Supporting these movements is one of the most effective climate actions you can take. It’s not just about human rights; it’s about ecological survival. But here is the hard part. We have to be willing to sit with discomfort. We have to admit that our comfort comes at a cost. Our suburban lawns, our cheap goods, our endless growth—they all rest on stolen land. Acknowledging that doesn’t mean you have to feel guilty every second of every day. Guilt is useless. It paralyzes. Responsibility is useful. Responsibility asks, 'What can I do with the privilege I have?' That is where the energy goes. That is where the change starts. I remember a conversation I had a few years ago with an elder from the Navajo Nation. She wasn’t interested in my strategy plans or my fundraising metrics. She asked me, 'Do you know whose water you are drinking?' It stopped me cold. It made me realize that every action we take is connected to someone else’s reality. When we engage in strategic giving for Indigenous causes, we must prioritize listening. We must center Indigenous voices, not just when it’s convenient, but especially when it’s difficult. This means following the lead of organizations like the Native American Rights Fund, or local land trusts like the Sogorea Te’ Land Trust in California. These groups don’t just ask for money; they ask for solidarity. They ask us to show up. To protest. To vote. To educate ourselves. Support is multi-dimensional. It’s not just financial. It’s political. It’s cultural. It’s relational. And relationships take time. You cannot rush trust. If you approach an Indigenous community with a transactional mindset—'I give, therefore you owe me'—you will fail. You must approach it with a relational mindset—'I am here because we are connected, and I want to honor that connection.' This sounds soft, but it is incredibly tough. It requires patience. It requires letting go of the ego that wants to be the hero. There is no hero here. Only partners. Only neighbors. Only humans trying to heal a wound that is much larger than any one of us. So, what’s next? How do you start? Start small. Start local. Look at the land you live on today. Whose territory is it? You can find this information easily online, but don’t just click and close the tab. Read the history. Learn the names. Then, find out who the contemporary representatives are. Are there local Indigenous organizations in your area? Do they have a donation page? A newsletter? Sign up. Listen. Follow their leads. If you have disposable income, consider making a recurring monthly donation to a specific Indigenous-led land fund. Recurring donations are powerful because they provide stability. They allow these organizations to plan long-term, rather than scrambling for emergency funds every month. Even a small amount, done consistently, adds up. And please, share what you learn. Use your social media, your dinner tables, your book clubs to talk about this. Not to preach, but to invite others into the awareness. Awareness is the first step toward action. Remember that episode we talked about regarding free school supplies? It was about meeting immediate needs. This is about addressing the root cause. It’s about ensuring that the children of today grow up on land that is respected, protected, and returned to its rightful guardians. It’s sustainable change. It’s deep roots. And it starts with us deciding that justice is worth the effort. I want to leave you with this thought. The earth does not belong to us. We belong to the earth. And within the earth, certain peoples have a sacred duty to care for it. When we support Indigenous land rights, we are aligning ourselves with that sacred duty. We are stepping aside, yes, but we are also standing guard. We are using our platforms, our dollars, and our voices to amplify those who have been silenced for too long. This is the good fight. It is not always glamorous. It is not always easy. But it is necessary. And it is possible. Every dollar given to an Indigenous land trust is a vote for a future where the land heals, and where the people thrive. It is a promise kept. A treaty honored. A relationship restored. So, I ask you to think about your capacity. Not just your financial capacity, but your emotional and political capacity. Where can you stretch? Where can you lean in? Where can you say, 'This matters to me, and I will act on it'? Let’s not wait for permission. Let’s not wait for perfection. Let’s just start. Right here. Right now. With the ground beneath us, and the truth in our hearts.