Taroue W. Brooks on the Artistry of Philanthropy

What inspired you to write The Gift & The Legacy: African American Philanthropy as Power, Purpose and Promise, and why was this the right moment to release it?
It is necessary to shift the spotlight away from philanthropy being narrowly defined as large financial contributions or names etched on buildings. This journal seeks to illuminate the fullness of giving—time, talent, ties, testimony, treasure, and trust—so that all contributions are acknowledged as vital to the progress of our country and culture. Recognizing this truth becomes a source of motivation, inspiring people to give with greater intentionality. In today’s climate of racial tension, it is critical that African Americans remember the sacrifices and strategies of those who came before us. That is precisely why we have our own organizations and Historically Black Colleges and Universities. This work is both a reminder and a charge not to diminish our legacy, but to build upon it.

What was your process for shaping this journal—how did you balance research, reflection, and your own lived experience in the writing?
The journal grew out of years of notes and reflections from my decades of service on nonprofit boards. My innate curiosity pushed me to ask why African Americans often appeared not to invest in ourselves at the level truly needed for sustained growth and success. Understanding our history was central to answering that question, for our story is one of resilience and innovation, continually building upon the shoulders of our forefathers. Writing allowed me to bring that history forward, interwoven with my lived experience. Publishing those words transforms them into a lasting resource, empowering all who read them to see themselves as participants in this legacy of giving.

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In what ways did you approach language and storytelling as tools to not just inform, but to inspire readers to see philanthropy differently?
Philanthropy often carries an aura of elitism—something distant, sophisticated, and reserved for the privileged few. I wanted my language to break down those barriers, to make the concept of giving accessible, relatable, and inclusive. When people encounter unnecessary complexity, they disengage. My goal was clarity, not complication. If this book is to have impact, it must be written in a way that resonates with everyday people, affirming that philanthropy belongs to all of us.

Many see painting, music, and performance as art—but your journal suggests writing about philanthropy can also be an artful act. How do you define the artistry in your authorship?
Authorship is an art because it takes the raw materials of language and shapes them into ideas, concepts, and pathways forward. Words hold the power to influence thought, spark imagination, and direct action. Like any art form, writing requires both discipline and creativity, and it must leave space for growth and discovery. Everyone carries thoughts, dreams, and even traumas, but the act of writing gives structure to those experiences and transforms them into something that can impact others. That, to me, is the artistry of authorship.

How do you use the written word as both a form of cultural preservation and a vehicle for transformation?
Writing makes memory tangible. The moment something is written down, it becomes real—it becomes a record that can be revisited, refined, and carried forward. In that way, writing preserves our culture while also providing a framework for growth and transformation. It holds us accountable to our history while simultaneously inviting us to reimagine what’s possible. It is both anchor and compass.

What impact do you hope this journal will have on readers, both within the African American community and beyond?
I hope this journal affirms to the African American community that their offerings—whether large or small—are significant and worthy of recognition. That awareness creates intentionality, ensuring we make space for the next generation to thrive. For those outside of our community, I hope the journal offers insight into the depth of our contributions, fostering respect and perhaps even inspiring collaboration. Ultimately, I want this work to open eyes and expand understanding.

If your words are a kind of canvas, what do you hope people will see, feel, and carry forward after engaging with your work?
I want the words to create an experience that feels both intimate and enduring—like walking through a park hand in hand, sharing thoughts that are deeply personal yet universally resonant. Just as the blooms of flowers offer natural beauty and renewal, I hope these words stimulate reflection and growth. I often describe life as a gumbo, and in that sense, my words are meant to become part of your recipe—seasoning your journey, shaping your perspective, and reminding you that you are the roux of your own gumbo of life.