Give Her the Flowers (While She’s Still Busy Watering the Garden)

By LaDawn Sullivan

March has arrived again, which means the world has officially entered the season when it pauses and says, “Oh yes… women.”

Banners go up. Panels get scheduled. Quotes get reposted. Somewhere, someone is ordering cupcakes with purple frosting. For a brief moment, the same women who have been quietly holding together families, communities, nonprofits, businesses, and entire movements receive a polite round of applause.

And listen, I’ll take the applause. Flowers too. Preferably something that doesn’t die in three days. But let’s be honest about something, women did not suddenly appear in March.

Women have always been present in the work of building community, advancing the common good, and practicing what we now call philanthropy. Long before terms like “strategic philanthropy,” “impact investing,” or “collective action” showed up in foundation boardrooms and glossy annual reports, women were already doing the work.

They organized church kitchens. They pooled money in coffee cans and giving circles long before philanthropy gave it a formal name. They supported neighbors, funded scholarships, and created safety nets when systems failed. In other words, they were practicing philanthropy before philanthropy got its branding together. Today the tools may look more sophisticated, but the work is real familiar.

Women are leading nonprofits, guiding foundations, mobilizing communities, serving on boards, mentoring emerging leaders, and raising families—often at the same time. Somewhere between the school pickup line and a Zoom call, a woman is also figuring out how to sustain an organization, secure resources for a community, and keep hope from slipping through the cracks. That is leadership. And most of the time, it happens without a spotlight.

Now let me be clear—this is not a “men versus women” conversation. The brothers are doing meaningful work too, and strong communities require all of us. But if we are honest about the steady labor of community care, we also have to acknowledge something plainly. Women are leading, in multiple lanes.

Women lead while building organizations and nurturing families. They mentor the next generation, serve on committees, resolve conflicts, and make sure the work keeps moving forward. They lead with strategy, compassion, persistence, and creativity, especially when resources are limited and expectations remain high.

In many cases, they are also lifting others along the way. And if we are honest, sometimes to the detriment of themselves.

Because many women doing this work are carrying a lot. Not because they have grown tired of the mission or the people, but because holding things together often weighs more than it looks from the outside. Truth is, the work can be thankless.

Communities are stronger because of it, yet recognition does not always arrive. Often the only visible evidence of the effort is that the crisis didn’t happen, the organization stayed open, a young person found an opportunity, or a program survived another year.

Behind many of those quiet successes, a woman was somewhere making sure it all held together.

And when we talk about that long history of holding communities together, we must be especially clear about the role of Black women.

Black women have long been architects of community survival and progress—often without the resources, recognition, or institutional support others received. From mutual aid societies and church networks to civil rights organizing and grassroots philanthropy, Black women have built systems of care when none existed.

They were raising money when they themselves had very little. They were organizing communities while being excluded from many of the spaces where decisions were made. They were leading movements while still making sure families and neighborhoods were sustained. Black women did not wait to be invited into philanthropy. They created their own.

Across this country, and right here in Colorado, Black women have shaped the philanthropic and nonprofit landscape in ways that are still unfolding today. Their leadership has strengthened organizations, protected communities, and opened doors that many of us now walk through with greater ease. Not for recognition, but for community.

So during this month when the spotlight finally tilts toward women’s history, perhaps the most appropriate response is a simple one. Give them their flowers.

Not just the symbolic kind during a panel discussion or recognition ceremony, but the meaningful kind: respect, resources, support, and the occasional reminder that they are allowed to rest too.

Because while the world pauses to celebrate Women’s History Month, most of these women are still doing what they have always done. They are still watering the garden, making sure others grow.

At the BRIC Fund, a Black woman-led Black fund committed to strengthening Black communities, we see this leadership every day. This month, we offer gratitude to the women who came before us, appreciation to those carrying the work today, and encouragement to the next generation who will continue building what community truly looks like.

The flowers are well earned, and long overdue. 🌸