By Dr. Makeeba McCreary, President, New Commonwealth Fund

Five years ago this week, the murder of George Floyd forced America to look at itself—and many of us were ashamed of what we saw. In boardrooms, classrooms, newsrooms, and town halls, people made promises. They pledged to do better. To listen, to learn, to invest.

The New Commonwealth Fund was born of that moment. Nineteen Black and Brown executives across Massachusetts came together in 2020 to launch a foundation that would do philanthropy differently—more urgently, more honestly, and in closer partnership with the communities most impacted. Since then, we’ve raised nearly $50 million, invested in hundreds of organizations, and contributed to a statewide network of changemakers working every day to advance equity in systems that were never built for us in the first place.

Today, many of the same companies and institutions that raced to post Black squares and equity commitments have walked them back. Diversity programs are being defunded or dismantled. Executives are growing wary of even mentioning race or signaling that equity is a value. Political leaders are painting racial equity as “divisive,” and public servants who speak up for inclusion are finding themselves under fire.

We are living through a chilling moment—a coordinated attack. And make no mistake: it is working. In too many corners of our society, we are seeing a retreat. A paralysis. Silence.

I understand. This is a hard time to speak boldly. For many, the fear isn’t just professional—it’s personal.

But here’s the truth: this is not the moment to look away. This is the moment to stare it down. To speak with more force—so there is no confusion about where we stand and what we stand for.

To remember who we said we were five years ago—and prove we meant it.

If the moment of George Floyd’s murder demanded moral clarity, then this moment demands moral courage.

At the New Commonwealth Fund, we see that courage every day. One story stays with me.

Recently, 826 Boston—a nonprofit that helps young people become stronger writers and more confident voices—was offered a sizable federal grant of $250,000.

But there was a catch.

To accept the money, 826 Boston would have had to check a box that undermined their values—a box that implied their work with Black and Brown students, immigrant families, and LGBTQ+ youth was wrong.

They said no.

They walked away from the funding.

That’s courage. 826 didn’t do it to make headlines. It wasn’t part of a campaign. It was a quiet, values driven decision that spoke volumes.

Not every organization can make a decision like that. 826 had a board that stood behind them. A staff that understood the stakes. A courageous leader.

That’s the kind of ecosystem we need to build more of—where business, philanthropy, and community organizations link arms and say: We’re not backing down.

We see that same courage in organizations like La Colaborativa, whose leadership has never waited for permission to speak out or act. In the face of disinvestment and injustice, La Colaborativa has organized, fed families, secured housing, and demanded action. Their work reminds us: progress doesn’t come from polite requests—it comes from persistent, people-powered pressure.

We’re five years out from George Floyd’s murder, and once again we are being forced to ask ourselves:

Who are we, really?
What do we stand for when the headlines fade?
Will we stand on the sidelines—or rise to lead?

At the New Commonwealth Fund, our answer is clear.

We still believe in racial equity.
We still believe in communities that are inclusive—not monoliths.
We still believe in the power of leadership to change what’s possible.
And we still believe Massachusetts can be a place where those ideals are not just aspirational, but real.

But only if we lead with courage.