Donor and Advisory Board Member Mozella Perry Ademiluyi:  Supporting Change with Art and Heart

Mozella Perry Ademiluyi's life began in Miami, FL. When she was nine, her father moved the family to Uganda, where he established an international YMCA. "This was not about building basketball courts and swimming pools," she says, "but providing vocational training and leadership opportunities for youth." The Perry children grew up in an international environment, first in Uganda, then Nigeria, with a range of academic, cultural and social experiences. "It was life-changing," says Ademiluyi, "one that shaped who I am today."

Today she is many things: wife, daughter, sister, poet, philanthropist, mentor, and storyteller. She also serves as on the advisory board of The Community Foundation for Montgomery County, an affiliate of The Community Foundation for the National Capital Region.

"My father's work in Africa was the backdrop for the work I do today," she says. Seven words influenced her then, as they do now: "You are what you think you are." That is the message she conveys to young people through Rising Sun Cultural and Educational Programs, the nonprofit organization she established in 2000. Its centerpiece is The Wealth Club, a program founded on the belief that wealth is the successful balance of physical, intellectual, emotional, spiritual and financial well-being.

"I have always been intrigued by wealth," says Ademiluyi, who says she grew up in a privileged environment, "because wealth is about so much more than money."

She is impressed by The Community Foundation and its donors, who do so much more than write checks. "This is a hands-on board," she says of her colleagues on the Advisory Board of The Community Foundation for Montgomery County. "They are involved in local nonprofits. They want to know how their dollars are being spent. They are willing to roll up their sleeves."

A member of the planning committee for The Community Foundation's recent "Putting Race on the Table" forum, Ademiluyi points out that the recent discussion "shined a light on the contributions of people who look at issues of race through different prisms. People have a different lens depending on their race, age, and life experiences." And, she adds, "this is not about Caucasians stepping in to help people of color. It may also be middle- and upper-income people of color who are focused on understanding the challenges our region faces."  

"When you bring people together and have a guided and meaningful conversation, it breaks down barriers," she said. "The 'Putting Race on the Table' forum demonstrated that this is just the beginning of a conversation that needs to continue—in organizations, in households and on the street." Ademiluyi plans to participate in the upcoming "Putting Race on the Table" Community Tours (see below). "We hear the statistics, but it's not until you see people living with the challenges they face that your understanding becomes sharper."

The author of Love is a Mountain, a book inspired by climbing Mount Kilimanjaro with her two sisters on her 50th birthday, Ademiluyi was invited to write and share the following poem at the recent forum. The style of her poem was influenced by Khalil Gibran's classic work, The Prophet.

Donor and Advisory Board Member Artis Hampshire-Cowan: "Race Can Be Radioactive….It's Through Dialogue That We Learn"

"Race," says Community Foundation donor and Advisory Board member Artis Hampshire-Cowan, "can be radioactive. When you hear the word, you immediately think of controversy." But, she adds, "I find that it's better to lean into it than to recoil from it. It is through dialogue that we learn."

Growing up in Pritchard, AL, in the 1950s and 1960s, Hampshire-Cowan experienced segregation firsthand. She recalls as a young girl, asking her father which water fountain at JC Penney's she should use—the one marked "colored" or the one marked "white." He told her to use the one she preferred. "I didn't realize at the time how courageous that was," she said.

Later, in 1970, she came to fully understand the sting of racism when schools there were finally integrated, 16 years after the Brown v. Board of Education decision. That experience, she says, "taught me to become 'anti-white.' Subsequent college experiences restored the lessons that my parents taught me: that all white people are not bad." It wasn't until she was working up north, in Philadelphia, that she was called the "N-word" to her face. " There was a perception by northerners that racism is unique to the South. Not so." Reflecting back, those experiences were all part of a journey which eventually brought her to the National Capital Region. She served for 12 years in senior positions in the DC government and as general counsel at RFK Stadium, and was instrumental in the construction of the new Redskins stadium in Prince George's County, MD.

Today, she is Senior Vice President and Secretary of Howard University with "deep, authentic relationships across races." She is known for being direct, which she attributes to her upbringing in the South. "Southern people have a code of honesty and candor, a directness," she says. "Your word means something. My daddy used to say, 'your word is your bond.'"

"God gives us different gifts," she adds. "Mine is to say what needs to be said even though it may make people uncomfortable at times. Sometimes walking into the fire actually calms the fire."

When she moved to this area, Hampshire-Cowan first lived in Montgomery County, but in 1989 made a conscious decision to settle in Prince George's County so that her children would grow up in a diverse community. That is where she became engaged as an advocate for public education and an advisory board member of The Community Foundation for Prince George's County, later serving as board chair and establishing her own donor-advised fund. "The Community Foundation serves as a unifier of differing views, ideas and diverse cultures," she says, citing The Community Foundation for the National Capital Region's "Putting Race on the Table" initiative as a recent example. "This is important in a transient community where people don't have a lot of history with each other. I see The Foundation as the community guardian."

Hampshire-Cowan directs money from her donor-advised fund to organizations that serve youth. "Our best hope is our children," she says. That is why she supports groups such as the Girl Scouts, YWCA and Girls, Inc.

But her commitment goes beyond making financial contributions. Each summer, she participates in Girls Scouts' Camp CEO, where she serves as a mentor, particularly to students who have had limited opportunities in the past. For some, it's the first trip away from their urban neighborhoods; for others, it's the first time spent in an integrated setting. Once the girls settle into camp, "all the differences fade away and they see the commonalities," she points out.

"We talk about community, but what does that mean?" Hampshire-Cowan adds. "For me, it's the unlimited liability that we assume for each other."

Community Foundation Trustee Wendy Thompson-Marquez  

As a child growing up in Peru, Wendy Thompson-Marquez dreamt about America. “There is no other country like it,” says Thompson-Marquez, who recently was named to the Board of Trustees of The Community Foundation for the National Capital Region. “That is what drives a lot of people—including me—to leave their homelands behind.”

Like many immigrants who move to this country to get an education, flee civil unrest or earn a living, her path was not an easy one. Thompson-Marquez arrived in 1987 on a tourist visa and decided to stay and pursue her dream of obtaining a college degree despite having an expired visa. She worked as a nanny for two families who sponsored her stay until she obtained her green card after eight years. During this time, she attended Montgomery College and then the University of Maryland/College Park, where she earned a degree in business administration.

“I had constant nightmares,” she says looking back on that time. The bad dreams were always the same; she would be deported and forced to return to Peru without an education.

In spite of these worries, Thompson-Marquez continued to stay in this country for nearly a decade. “There were many times I thought about throwing in the towel,” she recalls. But people she met along the way encouraged her to continue pursuing her goals.

Once she was documented, and after a great deal of persistence, Thompson-Marquez landed a job as a sales associate at Telemundo, the American Spanish-language television network. Remarkably, just one year later she was named general manager of the Washington station, ultimately making it one of the most profitable affiliates in the station group. She went on to manage 10 Telemundo affiliates on the East Coast and one in El Paso, Texas. As vice-president of the ZGS affiliate group, she was responsible for creating company-wide programs including a unique expo connecting Hispanic families with businesses and organizations in their areas, and a national campaign aimed at increasing literacy rates among Hispanic families.

Nonetheless, Thompson-Marquez never forgot the feeling of uncertainty immigrants experience while waiting for a green card. The experience shaped her perspective on what it means to be an immigrant and inspired her current project, “Harvest of Empire,” a documentary that examines the political and social roots of immigrants and immigration from Mexico, Central America and South America.

“Our immigration laws are not adjusting to current economic and social realities,” says Thompson-Marquez. “Immigration has become so polarized. My goal with this film is to educate viewers about the roots and ‘push factors’ that drive people to leave their homes.”

As for her decision to join The Community Foundation board, she says: “Putting Race on the Table” – the topic of The Community Foundation’s June 15 annual meeting – “is something that not all organizations have the courage to do. The Foundation tackles issues that are controversial in both an open and educational way, asking the critical question, ‘how can we better understand each other?’ I like that approach.”

“My American dream is the product of many people,” she adds. “None of them had a blood connection to me; some of them were strangers. The one thing they had in common: they didn’t view me as an undocumented worker. They didn't view me as an illegal alien. They saw me as a human being.”

“Today I am a citizen of this country and I have a voice. But I also know what it means not to have one. I feel that I have a moral obligation to speak for those who cannot.”