Well, This Escalated

An Accidental Career in Philanthropy, Twenty Years On

Happy 2026! Twenty years ago, in about a month, I fell into philanthropy.
And it changed everything.

See, I meant to work in diplomacy.

That was the plan. With an undergrad in intercultural and organizational communication, an MA in international studies and diplomacy made sense. I wrote about the soft power of US diplomacy and the need for a more reflexive approach, circa 2004. Less government promotion, more citizen-based engagement so that we could learn (look into the mirror) and adjust our approaches to what it means to be American. In the end, social media did some of that well, some of it not so well, and some of it, well, here we are now. (Time to blow the dust off that thesis).

It was a sensible, linear path that matched my training and my interests.

Except for two things: I didn’t want to live in Washington, D.C., and I got kicked out of Canada.

Not a tourist, you say?

When I say I was “kicked out of Canada,” what I mean more precisely is that my tourist visa was revoked. Not for anything dramatic, but because I appeared to be a marriage risk. Which, in hindsight, was accurate. I did marry him.

I could have had my parents write a letter explaining that I lived at their house in the US. I chose not to. I understood how dodgy I looked.

The moment still makes me smile, though, especially when the customs officer asked for my résumé. No, I did not carry a paper résumé around with me in 2005. But I had just completed an MA in diplomacy and was, in fact, looking for a job. So, things could have gone a different direction right there.

I know you like nonprofit things.

But instead of diplomatic postings, I found myself in Seattle with friends who were apartment managers, my so-called marriage-risk mate, and his H-1B visa. I had MA bills to pay and no grand plan beyond staying afloat. I called a temp agency and was ready for anything. I could type fast. I could work on a computer. I was willing.

One day, the agency called and said, “I know you like nonprofit things. Have you heard of the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation?”

Sort of.

I had written a policy paper on U.S. PEPFAR, and through that research, Gates’ global health work had surfaced. I leaned on that connection as heavily as I could in my interview with the Executive Assistant in Global Health Advocacy. I thought it went well.

And then, at the very end, a very busy woman appeared and asked to interview me. (I still adore her.) She said she needed someone in the Executive Office immediately and asked a defining question: How hard are you willing to work?

“Extremely,” I said.

That was how I fell into foundation work at the world’s largest foundation.

Who are these people, and how did they get here?

To say it shaped everything in my life would be a profound understatement. From nearly the first minute, I saw diplomacy everywhere: in how decisions were framed, in what was said and unsaid, in the constant negotiation between values, evidence, politics, urgency, and power. Philanthropy, I learned quickly, is a deeply diplomatic field.

Almost immediately, another question took hold and never really let go: Who are these people, and how did they get here?

They were a mixture of civil servants, activists, academics, and executives. They worked in a powerful, ambiguous middle space, yet they were rarely named, studied, or understood on their own terms. Because I had signed an NDA, and because so much of the work was necessarily private, I couldn’t fully process these questions out loud.

So I took the most circuitous route I could find.

I did a PhD to understand the concept of the foundation professional.

Twenty Years Later

Now, twenty years later, I am not done. If anything, it feels like I am just getting started. In 2026, 20 years since that accidental beginning, I hope to honour this journey in three serious ways and perhaps one fun one.

• With luck, a final paper from my PhD will be published, exploring how we can better understand family foundation CEOs and their role in foundations’ strategic decision-making.

• A first national look at working in Canadian foundations will be released.

• And, equal parts excited and terrified, I will write a book born from that doctoral work, which I hope will see the light of day in 2027.

And then there is the fun.

Because every time I am in a room with people who work in foundations, I know: these are my people. I want them to have more than best practice reports, academic articles and conference panels. I want a bit more joy: stickers, swag, language that belongs to us.

Hence, a first playful effort: “Unrestricted.”

Unrestricted funding is a best practice. But it is also a mindset. Foundations are, in many ways, profoundly unrestricted, whether or not they choose to act like it. And so too are foundation professionals. And so, really, are all of us: unrestricted in the amount of good we can do.

That is 2026. Twenty years on.
A pause to reflect and to notice what is needed next.

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