The United States has a long and disturbing history of anti‐immigrant sentiment and regressive laws targeting immigrants: the Know Nothing Party of the mid‐nineteenth century demonized Catholics and Irish immigrants. Federal legislation barred virtually all Chinese immigrants between 1882 and 1943. Government agents, spurred by fear of Communism, arrested and deported leftist Italian and Eastern European immigrants in the years immediately following the Russian revolution. During the 1980s and 1990s, cities and states restricted services to immigrants and passed English‐only ordinances. The federal government increasingly militarized the Mexico‐US border during that same period. In 2017–2018, immigration officials separated migrant families at the border, warehousing terrified children in cages without providing them even basic necessities such as soap or toothbrushes. To this day, some of those children have not been reunited with their parents.

Immigrant and nonimmigrant activists forcefully responded to these repressive and cruel policies. Chinese immigrants in the nineteenth century, for example, filed successful court cases challenging discriminatory laws aimed at them. They funded their efforts through mutual aid associations they organized based on the regions from which they immigrated, their family names, or their professions. After backlashes in the late 1970s and 1980s against immigrants from Latin America and Asia, grassroots activists formed numerous nonprofit groups to provide the newcomers with social and legal services, to organize immigrants to advocate for their rights, and to educate the public and correct inaccurate perceptions of immigrants.

The organizations profiled in this chapter envisioned and channeled the power of immigrants, not only in political arenas, but as financial contributors and resource generators in the movement for the fundamental dignity and rights of immigrants.

Some of these nonprofits have grown in size and influence since their early years. All of them have utilized grassroots fundraising strategies, either since their inceptions or after their leaders recognized the limitations of restricted institutional grants. Each of them has also engaged financial supporters in their advocacy, educational, and service efforts, demonstrating how donating is a form of activism that can lead to greater involvement in a social movement. These groups are examples of how grassroots activists can participate in the movement for immigrants' rights, not only as community organizers, protest participants, and advocates in legislative halls, but as leaders, donors, and fundraisers. They've proven that the distinction between donor and activist is artificial.

UNITED FARM WORKERS

Throughout the early 1960s, Mexican and Filipino farmworkers, mainly immigrants, toiled in the dusty fields of California's Central Valley under the blistering sun, exposed to harmful pesticides and paid low wages for backbreaking work. The United Farm Workers (UFW), a merged union of Filipino and Mexican laborers, organized farmworker strikes and worldwide boycotts of grapes and lettuce from growers who refused to negotiate with the union.

UFW leaders saw their mission as more than building a labor union. They viewed their work as generating a social movement to develop the power and dignity of some of the most undervalued and unrecognized workers in the United States: the people, most of whom are immigrants, who pick the fruits and vegetables that feed the nation. The UFW organized at the intersection of the movements for labor rights and immigrants' rights.

From the birth of the UFW, its leaders, including César Chávez, did not shy away from asking farmworkers to pay dues, even though they received low wages. Chávez said, “The statement: ‘They're so poor they can't afford to contribute to the group’ is a great cop‐out. You don't organize people by being afraid of them. You never have. You never will. You can be afraid of them in a variety of ways. But one of the main ways is to patronize them.” For Chávez, exempting poor workers from paying union dues wasn't an option.

During the long years of strikes and boycotts, however, when many UFW members had little income to pay dues, UFW leaders recognized that fundraising was essential not only to support striking farmworkers but also to provide meaningful ways for non‐farmworkers to participate in the movement. Asking for money and in‐kind donations, consequently, became an integral part of the UFW's organizing.

The union's strikes and boycotts received the attention and backing of celebrities, including musicians like Joan Baez and Carlos Santana, who amplified the UFW's message to a wide audience and performed at fundraising concerts. As the grape boycott spread nationally and internationally, union supporters around the United States hosted house parties. One in Chicago generated $10,000, a significant amount in the late 1960s and early 1970s.

However, because the strikes and boycotts spanned many years, the UFW could not rely solely on events to raise the resources necessary for the long haul. Union staff members and volunteer supporters engaged in numerous other fundraising strategies, including sales of bumper stickers and buttons, and requesting honoraria for presentations to churches and community organizations. “Anytime you made a presentation, at a school, church, etc.,” recalled Alfredo de Avila, a UFW organizer from 1967 to 1973, “you would ask for an honorarium. You'd make a fundraising pitch at every event that you were speaking at.”

During the late 1960s and early 1970s, when UFW‐led strikes and boycotts took place, trade union membership in the United States was relatively large. Established unions and many of their individual members contributed to the UFW. Soon after a UFW‐led workers strike began, for instance, the United Auto Workers (UAW) pledged $5,000 a month for the duration of the strike. The UAW also contributed $50,000 for construction of the UFW's headquarters in Delano, California.

The UFW relied on volunteer labor and donations of in‐kind goods and services. Students, clergy, housewives, and professionals volunteered across the country to organize and walk picket lines in front of grocery stores selling grapes harvested by nonunion workers. Volunteers also contributed time and labor to construct a health clinic, retirement community, and the UFW's office in Delano. The union relied on volunteers to plan and host fundraising house parties. UFW organizer de Avila remembered that in areas where the union had few or no staff, small volunteer committees organized the events. “Some committees were just five people in the neighborhood; they were taking on the main responsibility of taking on house meetings,” explained de Avila.

UFW members and leaders also depended heavily on in‐kind donations. Catholic nuns with a photocopier printed leaflets in one city. A union print shop elsewhere did the same. Supporters provided lodging and food to UFW members visiting their cities to organize boycotts. Churches offered spaces for meetings and organizing.

Over time, the UFW's strikes and boycotts proved successful. As increasing numbers of growers entered contracts with the UFW, its membership grew. By 1971, membership dues accounted for 60% (more than a $1 million) of the UFW's budget. Having earned name recognition because of its strikes and boycotts, the union eventually engaged in successful national direct mail campaigns.

Out of necessity, UFW leaders and members integrated fundraising into their organizing activities. But they also recognized that asking farmworkers and union supporters to make contributions—whether monetary or in‐kind—was an effective way to build support for the farmworkers' movement. Chávez recalled, “At the very beginning of the organizing drive, we looked for the worst homes in the barrios where there were a lot of dogs and kids outside. And we went in and asked for a handout. Inevitably, they gave us food. Then they made a collection and gave us money for gas. They opened their homes and gave us their hearts.” He recognized that the poorest people can also be the most generous.

CHIRLA

In the mid‐1980s, religious leaders around the United States provided sanctuary in their houses of worship to immigrants from Mexico who sought economic opportunities, and to refugees who had escaped violence and human rights abuses in Central America. Both groups were subject to deportation. One of the spiritual Samaritans was Father Luis Olivares of Our Lady Queen of Angels Church in Los Angeles. In 1986, Olivares and other advocates for immigrants and refugees founded the Coalition for Humane Immigrant Rights of Los Angeles (CHIRLA), responding to passage of the Immigration Reform and Control Act (IRCA) of that year, which granted amnesty to 2.7 million undocumented immigrants but criminalized hiring undocumented workers. Initially a provider of legal services to low‐income immigrants, CHIRLA subsequently developed community organizing, advocacy, and civic engagement programs. In 2021, CHIRLA's budget was more than $10 million, having grown exponentially in the prior 12 years to become a statewide organization with satellite offices across California and in Washington, DC.

That remarkable growth resulted from the bold leadership of Executive Director Angelica Salas and Managing Director Zerihoun Yilma, who strategically set out to diversify CHIRLA's revenue streams in order to increase sustainability, and who guided the resilience and power of CHIRLA's community to forward the movement for immigrants' rights. Over decades, they worked with program and development staff to move away from an overreliance on foundation funding by increasing revenue from government grants, fees for service, individual donors, and more.

Beth Rayfield became CHIRLA's Development Director in July 2008, and by September, the world economy crashed. Many of CHIRLA's foundation funders cut or did not renew grants. Foundations, in general, were also reducing support for the community organizing that was an essential part of CHIRLA's model for achieving meaningful political gains in the face of fierce anti‐immigrant attacks.

A former labor organizer, Rayfield saw the loss of foundation funding as an opportunity to grow CHIRLA's existing membership program to include not just low‐income immigrants but also students, attorneys, academics, members of faith communities, and others concerned about immigrants. The membership structure supported and was supported by CHIRLA's organizing program. Under the leadership of former Director of Organizing Tony Bernabe, committees of members worked together on policy and advocacy efforts. CHIRLA's domestic worker members, for example, organized to advocate for a Domestic Workers Bill of Rights. Other members coalesced to change federal immigration laws. Members also engaged in grassroots fundraising: the LGBTQ+ committee hosted a drag show. Other groups of members held sticker sales, movie nights, and organized kermés, a kind of food fair.

CHIRLA, like many grassroots organizations, has been staffed by mission‐driven professionals, of whom many have been immigrants or the children of immigrants. Because they've been directly affected by and are passionate about CHIRLA's work, Rayfield knew they could be effective fundraisers. She understood that normalizing fundraising activities and making them predictable would be key to engaging the staff. She created systems that empowered her colleagues to engage in specific fundraising activities during set times in the year: a fall membership drive and a spring gala fundraising event. She provided training, materials, and campaign structures that the staff needed to regularize a culture of fundraising that contributed to CHIRLA's growth and sustainability.

By 2012, CHIRLA's membership program had plateaued at approximately 2,000 members. While membership systems were sound, they were difficult to scale. At this same time, the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) program made legal status for some undocumented immigrant youth possible. CHIRLA relaunched a legal services program that included a membership benefits component. CHIRLA's existing membership program allowed it to lean into the opportunity of DACA and vastly expand its membership program, as thousands of young people became CHIRLA members and, as a result, received legal help with their DACA applications, and other benefits.

In 2016, Monica Gomez took over as Development Director. That year, Donald Trump was elected president. In the following years, the border crisis, mass deportations, and ICE abuses permeated the media. Trump's policies increased demand for CHIRLA's services, stretching the organization's capacity. However, these challenges also created new donor energy. Efforts of CHIRA's newly established Marketing and Membership Department, including more frequent online communications, resulted in greater visibility and increased individual giving as people across the country resisted attacks on immigrants. During this time, CHIRLA also expanded its legal services infrastructure. By 2021, CHIRLA had the nation's largest legal services team, which also generated the most revenue for the organization, mainly through government contracts.

In 2019, Aurora Colindres became CHIRLA's Development Director. Soon after, the world faced an unprecedented global pandemic. Despite this, she focused on growing the development team and expanding systems to support a fully diversified fundraising program, clearly delineating two areas: the full range of individual giving, and foundation grants and government contracts. She created more formal structures for rapid response grant applications, the cultivation of new philanthropic partners, dedicated approaches to major gifts and campaigns, and launching a CHIRLA‐specific day of giving, similar to “Giving Tuesday,” to kick off Immigrant Heritage Month.

The pandemic pushed the collaborative nature of CHIRLA's work to new heights, including a shift to a virtual gala and increased engagement on social media. Despite a tragic 2020–2021, CHIRLA remained financially strong because of flexible support from funders and ongoing donations from individuals (42,000 members and nonmember donors), spurred by constant communication with supporters, including through texting and quarterly funder briefings.

CASA DE MARYLAND

In the mid‐1980s, refugees fleeing war and human rights atrocities, spurred by the US government's support of repressive Central American regimes, began settling in Prince George's and Montgomery counties in Maryland, just outside of Washington, DC. Activists meeting in a church basement founded Casa de Maryland in 1986 to provide social services to this new immigrant community. Capitol‐area foundations and some individual donors provided Casa's initial funding.

In the early 1990s, Casa started community organizing and empowerment programs, first among immigrant day laborers, then with other groups of immigrants, such as domestic workers. Over time, Casa has evolved into the largest immigrant advocacy organization in the mid‐Atlantic region, combining services, community organizing, and strategic advocacy campaigns.

As Casa grew, it continued to receive foundation grants and eventually some government funding, especially for its service programs. But Gustavo Torres, who became Casa's Executive Director in 1991, believed that the only way Casa could successfully advocate for comprehensive immigration reform and other policies was to build immigrants' power so that policymakers responded to their needs. He advocated that Casa become a membership organization, not only to build the immigrant community's political power but also to strengthen Casa's accountability to the community.

Some board members, however, were wary of asking low‐income immigrants to pay $25 in annual membership dues. So, Casa started its membership program as a two‐year pilot project. Casa leaders soon learned that immigrants were eager to become members and, as members, to elect and become leaders of the organization. In 2021, Casa had more than 115,000 lifetime immigrant, Latino, and working‐class members.

“Low‐income people may not have money, but they're proud to be financial supporters,” explained Torres. “They're willing to invest in a service and an organization that fights for their rights. They send money all the time to their families in their home countries. They're proud to make contributions to Casa.”

Casa also charges fees for its ESL, citizenship, and immigration classes. People who can't afford the fees can compensate Casa by volunteering or by participating in Casa's mobilizations and other political actions. But the vast majority of people taking classes pay.

In addition to its membership program, Casa receives contributions from donors who are not members, mainly nonimmigrants. Some started as volunteers who provided services through Casa's programs. Many are progressives who support immigrants' rights. Other donors, though, might disagree with Casa's political agenda but support the organization's workforce development or service programs because immigrants are an important part of the donors' labor or consumer base. Casa strives to find areas of agreement with donors, but the organization will not compromise its values. Casa, for example, returned some government funding for its program supporting victims of domestic violence because their immigration status had to be reported. Refusing the money didn't hurt the organization, because it had other funding sources.

A fundraising‐friendly culture has evolved at Casa because of its staff's dedication and accountability to the organization's membership. Being true to the membership and living up to their expectations motivate staff members to support fundraising efforts so that Casa can generate the resources necessary for strong programs and advocacy that won't let down the membership.

MUJERAS UNIDAS Y ACTIVAS

Low‐income women immigrants in the United States face not only a barrage of virulent anti‐immigrant policies, they also confront sexism that limits their opportunities and threatens their physical safety and mental health. The situation for undocumented women is compounded by fears of deportation.

In 1989, immigrant women from Latin America formed Mujeras Unidas y Activas (MUA) for mutual support and to learn about their rights. MUA's goal has been to empower immigrant women for personal transformation and to build community power for social and economic justice. MUA has always been intentionally led by immigrant women who recruit their peers to join the group. Many have developed skills as community organizers, peer counselors, and fundraisers. Most of the organization's paid staff started as MUA members.

Initially sponsored by the Northern California Coalition for Immigrants Rights, which secured funding for MUA from foundations and major donors, MUA became a nonprofit in 2005. Early on, MUA hired a grant proposal writer, but its leaders soon realized that fundraising is a community organizing and empowerment strategy to build wide support among immigrants and nonimmigrants, and that MUA members could raise money for the organization. They had another strategic reason to secure donations from individuals: MUA cannot use restricted foundation grants for its legislative advocacy and civic engagement work, so it needs unrestricted funding.

MUA members overcame their apprehensions about requesting donations by understanding that they weren't asking for themselves but for needed community changes. They also realized that many people with wealth have assets because of immigrants' labor. So, asking for contributions was related to economic justice.

An initial strategy that MUA used to acquire nonimmigrant donors was fitting for the organization. The year leading up to MUA's transition into an independent nonprofit happened to be the organization's 15th anniversary. Inspired by the Latin American tradition of the quinceañera, a birthday party for a 15‐year‐old transitioning to womanhood, MUA recruited a number of nonimmigrant supporters to serve as the organization's “godparents” (or padrinos and madrinas) and hold house parties to introduce MUA to their networks and build interest for a big fundraising event that was planned for later in the year to announce MUA's incorporation. (In the quinceañera tradition, madrinas and padrinos often help to pay for a quinceañera celebration.)

MUA's early fundraising strategies were transactional, like selling food or tickets for parties. Although helpful for community building, these activities required a lot of work and raised relatively little money. A key shift occurred after a MUA supporter hosted a house party. MUA members prepared a mountain of food. After the event, organizers realized that the majority of the $1,500 raised came from two donors, neither of whom stayed to eat, but gave generously because they heard MUA members explain how the organization changed their lives.

After that, MUA began training members on fundraising and sharing their stories as a way to explain how MUA changed their lives but also how MUA's policy advocacy will result in societal advances that will have an impact on everyone, including nonimmigrant donors. Executive Director Juana Flores explained, “Once we realized that we were actually doing a favor to the donor by providing them a way to give to a cause they cared about, that's when our minds started to shift.”

MUA intentionally linked fundraising and political organizing training, recognizing that money is a form of power and that money is necessary to forward the movement for better working conditions, wages, and services for immigrants. Just as MUA members share their stories with policymakers during political campaigns, so too could they share their stories with donors.

Because MUA exists to empower immigrant women to stand up for themselves, it was natural for the organization to ask women who participate in MUA's programs to contribute and fundraise when possible. From its earliest years, MUA encouraged women to pay dues. Most of its members have low‐wage service jobs, so MUA has always kept dues low. As Flores explains, though, “One dollar from one million people results in $1 million.” Having a financial stake in MUA helps members claim ownership of the organization.

MUA members also participate in fundraising activities. Member‐led fundraising committees have planned events familiar in Latin American cultures (such as tamale sales, block parties, and raffles) to generate resources from within immigrant communities. Members have also successfully asked immigrant business owners to contribute resources, including money. Because MUA is a trusted community entity, businesses have confidence that the organization will do good and necessary work with their donations.

MUA has built a base of hundreds of donors who loyally contribute large and small gifts because they feel a personal connection to the organization, whether as members or as supporters who hear regularly from members about the impact MUA has had on their lives.

NILC

In the late 1970s and early 1980s, thousands of immigrants from Central America and Mexico arrived in Los Angeles. The National Center for Immigrants' Rights, the entity that grew into the National Immigration Law Center (NILC), began in 1979 as a project of the Los Angeles Legal Aid Foundation. The Center's purpose was to deliver legal training, guidance, and advocacy support to organizations providing direct legal aid to immigrants and their families. Funded by the Legal Services Corporation (LSC), a government‐supported nonprofit, NILC spun off from the Legal Aid Foundation in 1995, in part, because LSC funding could not be used to help undocumented immigrants.

Over the years, NILC evolved from being primarily a resource for legal service providers and immigrants' rights advocates to becoming an immigrant justice movement leader, combining impact litigation, state and federal policy advocacy, and coalition work to build immigrants' political power and to shift public attitudes about immigrants. The organization developed a strong reputation with foundations, policymakers, and advocates. But NILC was not well known beyond those circles.

NILC's leaders made the strategic decision to increase the organization's public profile in 2010, when nativists were pushing through anti‐immigrant laws in Arizona, Alabama, Georgia, and other states. NILC's communication's team successfully positioned Executive Director Marielena Hincapié as a national expert that journalists sought for opinions and analysis. Hincapié's visibility generated attention that resulted in the slow growth of NILC's individual donor base, which in 2015 numbered several hundred people who contributed 3% of the organization's $5 million budget. Ninety percent of NILC's budget came from foundation grants. The organization's leadership had earlier recognized that NILC needed to diversify and increase its revenue sources to be sustainable and to expand its programs. So, NILC hired consultants to solidify and grow NILC's individual donor program.

NILC's investments in media outreach and individual donor efforts paid off immediately after the 2016 election, which resulted in Donald Trump becoming president. Millions of Americans were shocked and feared that Trump, notorious for amplifying Islamophobic hysteria and calling Mexican immigrants rapists and criminals, would institute draconian policies, including immigration restrictions. They looked for ways to counter the expected oppression and searched for organizations working on the front lines of issues like immigration that the Trump administration would target.

Days after the election, a journalist mentioned NILC in an article about organizations defending immigrants' rights. The piece went viral, and NILC was flooded with thousands of donations. Soon after Trump took office, NILC was involved in a high‐profile case challenging the president's Muslim travel ban, further increasing the organization's public exposure.

NILC capitalized on its visibility and the influx of new donors and shifted its communication and solicitation strategies. Prior to 2016, NILC's emails to supporters and allies tended to be long and packed with information. Public policy “insiders” relied on NILC's accurate and timely communications, but they did not necessarily engage new supporters who were unfamiliar with NILC and had given an initial contribution based on a recommendation from a trusted source. NILC not only wanted to retain the thousands of donors who had contributed to NILC for the first time, but wanted, in Hincapié's words, to “engage these people as participants in our democracy.”

NILC's development and communications staff tested less specialized and more action‐oriented email messages and found that recipients opened them more often than NILC's traditional longer, analytical emails. NILC's new messages invited supporters to act in multiple ways, including communicating with immigrant leaders, contacting elected officials, leaving public comments on federal platforms, and making donations.

In addition, development staff segmented donors from NILC's broader email universe and created messages addressing donors as donors, acknowledging the impact of their gifts, and inviting donors to consider increasing their contributions or becoming sustaining donors.

These changes resulted in engagement rates across all platforms exceeding benchmarks and development staff surpassing their donor retention goals.

In the post‐2016 election period, NILC also expanded its existing practices with major donors. Prior to 2016, Hincapié had been meeting with and sending personal communications to donors contributing $1,000 or more. After the 2016 election, the number of donors giving at that level grew exponentially. So, the threshold for meetings with the Executive Director increased to $5,000, with support from a newly hired Senior Officer, Individual Giving, who also maintains NILC's relationships with major donors.

Within a few years after the 2016 election, the percentage of income NILC received from foundations shifted from 90% to 63%, with the remaining revenue coming from a mix of individual contributions, legal fees, and corporate support.

With a sober understanding that Trump's dangerous anti‐immigrant policies, rooted in white supremacy, undermined our democracy, NILC used increased unrestricted revenue to establish a new strategic framework. That framework sets a new vision for immigrant justice grounded in racial and economic justice and equity that will require continued advocacy for just laws and policies, combined with movement and power building, narrative, and culture change.

NILC's strong financial health positioned the organization to advocate for a society in which everyone has the freedom to thrive regardless of where they were born or how much money they have.

Given the United States' long, traumatic, and ongoing history of beckoning immigrants to be low‐wage workers but then viciously turning on them when they demand fundamental respect and dignity, the fight for immigrants' rights will continue for years to come.

The groups profiled in this chapter exemplify how fundraising is a form of organizing and empowerment for immigrants, and how community organizing can lead to fundraising success among immigrants and nonimmigrants.

These organizations have proven that immigrants, many of whom have low‐incomes, want to contribute financially to a nonprofit after they understand the group's value and how it is relevant to their lives and values. In that sense, immigrants are just like any other donors. Asking immigrants to fund and take ownership of organizations is a way to show them respect. As Beth Rayfield, one of CHIRLA's Development Directors, commented on asking low‐income immigrants for contributions, “You can't take their choice away. You're taking away someone's dignity if you don't ask them and give them a choice to say yes or no.”

The nonprofits we discuss in this chapter have built bases of immigrant and nonimmigrant donors who can be called on to provide the political and financial muscle necessary to advance the movement to secure justice and equity for immigrants, who are essential members of our families, neighborhoods, workplaces, and communities.