IN Toronto magazine

GIVING: 

Philanthropy is the connective tissue of our community. We talk to donors and volunteers and discover that getting involved pays surprising dividends

Hundreds of ordinary folk — some rich, some not — donate their money, time and talent to LGBT and AIDS groups. In times of declining donations and government cutbacks, these unsung leaders hold our communities together, making our lives happier and healthier.

Our small sample of philanthropic men and women defy easy categorization, except for two things: They care and they find great joy in giving. They aren’t the dour do-gooders of ages past, smug in their good fortune and condescending toward the people they aim to help. Instead, they exemplify how charity must be a two-way street demanding mutual respect. They get as good as they give. Their stories are as inspiring as the amazing work carried out by the organizations they support. Their passions are infectious; to meet them is to get involved.

Harvey Malinsky
New lease on life

Realtor Harvey Malinsky raises more money than any other individual for the Friends for Life Bike Rally, more than $100,000 over the last three years. Participating in the annual bike trek between Toronto and Montreal in support of the Toronto People with AIDS Foundation has given Malinsky a new lease on life.

Malinsky, 63, came out in his 30s. He lived in Burlington, was married and had a daughter (who is still very much a part of his life and a key member of his fundraising team). Coming out changed everything: He left his job, moved to Toronto and got his real estate license. It was 1980, a year before AIDS started killing gay men. “When I came out I fell into a group of eight to 10 people. They became my family, my friends — the ones I partied with, the ones I had dinner with. One after the other, many got sick, some started dying. I was on their caregiving teams.”

Malinsky honours greatly the sacrifices of his mother, a deaf woman widowed early, helping her widowed father, an Italian immigrant, raise seven siblings (four of them visually impaired), in addition to her own young son. Strength and generosity are family traits. In the terrifying wake of AIDS, however, Malinsky found he was unable to cope.

“In the ’90s so many people I had known had died. I was beginning to feel guilty for being alive.
“I was there supporting as much as I could in ways I could. I sent off my donations. In terms of jumping in and doing something, I said no.”

That was until friends convinced him to try the Bike Rally. “It was just before I turned 60,” Malinsky recalls. “I said, ‘Are you out of your mind? I don’t go to a gym. I don’t ride a bike.’ They talked me into it. Foolishly I got a bike.” His abilities to bring people together, his corporate connections and his passion for the cause led Malinsky to discover his outsized talents for fundraising. More importantly, after losing so many friends, the experience of being on the rally spoke to that terrible question at his core: Why was he still here?

“During that first year, I had people come up to me and say, ‘I’m a client of PWA and I really want you to know how much I appreciate what you are doing.’ I get goose bumps talking about it. Then when people on the rally wore red ribbon poz T-shirts for the first time… and I heard their stories at the ceremony… I admired them and appreciated what they were sharing.
“It made me realize I’m here for the right reasons. I’m doing this because we need to keep this alive.”

Dunstan Egbert
A loving family

“No one likes an auditor,” says corporate tax auditor Dunstan Egbert with a laugh. “And I’m okay with that.” The longtime donor and volunteer with the Alliance for South Asian AIDS Prevention (ASAAP) needn’t worry.

"The people I’ve helped, the people I’ve opened my home to.... They are my friends forever."

“My family is okay with me being gay but my friends are my real family and that family came about because of my volunteering. If I need anything, the people I’ve helped, the people I’ve opened my home to, will be there for me. They are my friends forever.

“Like when my mother got sick a few years ago, Sunnybrook Hospital was packed with my friends. You couldn’t get into the courtyard because they wouldn’t let so many people upstairs.”

Egbert grew up in Sri Lanka during a civil war that raged for more than 25 years. “My mother and father were very generous. They were always helping people. I remember during war time we couldn’t go home at night, it was too dangerous. So we’d sleep in the church. Everyday, my father would get us up and we would haul all this food back to the house and we’d cook for everybody. My mother was always checking in on people who couldn’t leave their homes, bringing them food.”

His parents and brothers reunited in Canada when Egbert moved here. He studied economics and finance at Ryerson. But his first passion was dance. He hooked up with a number of creative types at Desh Pardesh, an eclectic South Asian arts festival, now defunct, that had a huge presence in Toronto in the 1990s. At Desh, his volunteering really took off; he didn’t have a choice. “Arts groups are always very eager to get someone with a financial background. I was constantly being dragged into things, whether I wanted to or not.”

Through Desh, Egbert started volunteering with ASAAP (“I moved from boat to boat”). The fledgling AIDS organization that grew out of the activist group Khush already had a number of finance folk, so Egbert focused on frontline work, everything from handing out condoms at bathhouses and outreach among the Tamil community to translating for people trying to access AIDS services.

“I knew people who killed themselves because they were gay. They were so isolated. There was a lot of prejudice. They had no friends to talk to. There was great need for a support group.” So Egbert set up Snehithan (which means “friend” in Tamil), a gay Tamil group that grew quickly from two to 50. It was soon doing outreach work for ASAAP.

A new generation of young gay Tamils has now taken root at Snehithan. And Egbert focuses his volunteer work on people with AIDS. “That requires a level of ‘comfortability,’ a sense of community. Everyone knows me, so that personal connection means a lot.”

In addition to board work at ASAAP and participating in the Bike Rally for two years, Egbert still gives money where he can and is currently sponsoring a man from Sri Lanka whose life was destroyed by the 2004 tsunami. Egbert’s father has also moved in (“He moves in with the gay son because all the straight ones are married with kids”). While he has a level of annual giving in his head, Egbert still gives spontaneously as needs arise. “I give very good financial advice,” he says laughing, “but I’m not good with my own money.”

Gail Flintoft
The big picture

“I get much more out of volunteering than I give,” says retired social worker Gail Flintoft. From 1990 to 2010 Flintoft worked at Casey House, Toronto’s AIDS hospice — ground zero during the worst of the AIDS epidemic. She provided counselling and support for hundreds of clients and watched as way too many of them died; she helped countless others with their grief. Flintoft is one of those people who could pat themselves on the back and say, “I’ve done my part.” Not Gail. “That’s just not who I am,” she says. “Even now that I’m retired, I have to do something. This stuff is important to me.”

In addition to monthly donations, Flintoft is a longtime volunteer and former board member with Fife House, which provides supportive housing for people with HIV/AIDS. “I can’t emphasize enough the importance of secure, affordable housing,” she says. “It’s something as simple as being able to take a shower. If you can’t, who is going to pay attention to you? You are dismissed as some dirty bum.

“A person’s life can turn around if they have a place to put their food, a place to put their medication, a place to put their head down and get a good night’s sleep, security. At Fife House we help people get housing and the support to stay there. Stable housing means stable relationships, stable health.

“I’ve always volunteered in the areas where I worked, that goes back to when I worked at Nellie’s women’s shelter and I volunteered with Margaret Frazer House. It helps me be better at the work I’m paid to do, it gives me greater context… and by context I mean, really, the big picture. Volunteering allows me to bring something better back to work.

“I meet so many amazing people. I learn a lot. It expands what I do and how I do it.”

Flintoft is a former chair of the Canadian AIDS Society, yet she still volunteers at the group’s AGM registering attendees. “I sit there at the registration desk and get to see people I’ve worked with over the years from across the country” she says, opening her arms as if hugging each one. “How else could I do that? Of course I’m going to be there.”

Emma Lewzey
Both sides of the coin

Emma Lewzey has been a fundraiser for 15 years; she got into the field through volunteering. Working both sides of the fundraising coin gives her unique insights into how philanthropy can be most effective.

“There is such stigma in talking about money, in talking about income levels and levels of giving."

Lewzey is a longtime donor and volunteer at the Inside Out film festival. Born and raised in Georgetown, Ontario, the festival was Lewzey’s entrée to the community.

“I started going to Inside Out when I first moved to Toronto,” says Lewzey. “I won’t say when. Suffice it to say that it was back when the festival was at Cinecycle on fold-up lawn chairs — that dates me a little. I loved everything about Inside Out. It was the first LGBT event I ever went to after moving to the city. I loved the vibe, of people gathered together to watch these stories that — even today — are not available in the mainstream.”

She currently works at Redwood, a shelter for women and children fleeing domestic abuse. And while social issues remain close to her heart, she donates to a mix of groups. “It runs a crazy gamut, from social service organizations and social justice to Inside Out and the opera. There’s not a whole lot of rhyme or reason,” she says, laughing. “It’s just groups I’m passionate about.”
As a full-time fundraiser Lewzey knows how much work it is to raise money. “It’s a vicious cycle: So many organizations don’t have the resources to fundraise and without fundraising they can’t get more resources.

“That’s why I give to less sexy causes, ones that aren’t about immediate results. Instead I try to support an organization’s infrastructure. I get frustrated when I hear people say, ‘I don’t want to pay for admin costs….’ There is such a mania now to cut admin costs. Organizations are being squeezed and squeezed and their work is suffering because of it.

“That’s something I’ve learned as both a volunteer and a board member.”

There are no shortcuts. Looking at the ratio of admin to service costs isn’t enough. Lewzey says the only way to understand an organization’s effectiveness is by engaging with it: check out its website, talk to organizers, go to an AGM. “Donors have a responsibility to do their leg work.
“We need to start talking about philanthropy more,” she adds. “There is such stigma in talking about money, in talking about income levels and levels of giving. The act of giving is so complicated; so many emotions are in play.

“And when you get to something like bequests, it gets even worse. Not only are you talking about money, now you are talking about dying.”

Some experts see a trend among LGBT folk who, as they age, are looking at more complex ways of donating, like stock options and bequests.

“I always joke about the bequests in my will,” says Lewzey, “that the recipients are only going to get some Ikea bookcases and an elderly cat. But I am a homeowner. My partner and I are not married. We don’t have kids. Our assets have to go somewhere. Without a will, I’m not sure what the province would do with them. It’s important for LGBT people to get their wills in order.”

Lewzey says she decides at the beginning of the year to donate a percentage of her pretax income; she gives monthly to her main charities. “It’s much easier to put aside that smaller amount each month. It’s amazing how much you can give if you are purposeful.”

There are additional benefits to this type of planning. “I don’t feel bad when I say no to other charities. And you have to say no at some point, whether it’s money or time. I know how much I have to give and where it’s going. It alleviates a lot of anxiety.

“It feels good to give.”

Follow the money Advice on charitable giving

→ Research an organization: check out the website and financial statements, talk to organizers, go to an AGM.
→ There are no shortcuts. The much ballyhooed ratio of admin costs to direct services only tells part of the story. Staff and infrastructure allow organizations to do their job.
→ Connect your passions to an organization’s services (makes the aforementioned research more likely).
→ Events like art auctions and fundraising parties are good entry points, but don’t lose sight of an organization’s core services. “Some organizations are overly dependent on events,” says fundraiser Emma Lewzey. “It puts too much emphasis on a person’s expectations, of what they are going to get out of it. To me,
philanthropy is a donation that is freely given without expect-
ations of something in return.”
→ Establish an annual rate of giving at the beginning of the year. Consider giving monthly to your main beneficiaries. “It’s amazing how much you can put aside to give if you are purposeful,” says Lewzey.
→ Talk to a financial planner; consider stock options, bequests and more complicated ways of giving. “As people get older, giving goes up, across the board,” says the LGBT Giving Network’s Doug Kerr.

Trends in philanthropy
→ According to Statistics Canada, individual philanthropy in Canada has declined since 1997 due to the economy. “People who have money are giving as much as they can,” says lisaj lander, director of development at Buddies in Bad Times Theatre.
→ LGBT charities draw upon a tradition of giving: We looked after our own because no one else would. Looking forward, charities have to work hard to expand their donor, volunteer and leadership base. “Every group needs a youth program,” says longtime volunteer Dunstan Egbert.
→ The LGBT Giving Network (powersitefactory.com/lgbt) is an alliance of donors and non-profit organizations created five years ago to help increase individual philanthropy and help organizations share fundraising and volunteering resources and ideas. Member groups range from the AIDS Committee of Toronto and Casey House to Community One, the Canadian Lesbian and Gay Archives and Inside Out.
→ LGBT philanthropists are a force to be reckoned with. “We brought together donors who give at a significant level because we wanted them to see themselves as a community, as leaders,” says Kerr. “What are their priorities? What do we want to
achieve next?”