Brigid Slipka

Every time there is mention in the news or in life about a charitable act, the main character tends to be either:

1. The Giver, who can be either a unimaginably generous or arrogantly patronizing.  And probably, people will choose one of the two sides and debate over who’s right.

2. The Recipient, who can be either an idiot reconnaissant or a crook.  And probably, people will choose one of the two sides and debate over who is right.

The problem with framing the main character as one or the other is that, obviously, half of the equation is missing.  A philanthropic story is not about any one person’s image or act or reputation or history or motivation.  A philanthropic story is not about any one person.

A philanthropic story is about connection between the Giver and the Recipient.  It may be about connection so deep that there’s not simply one charitable act but repeated acts of generosity until the line between Giver and Recipient blurs and disappears altogether.  It may be about a false connection, a disengaged Giver who makes things worse for the Recipient.

The movie of The Blind Side is about a Giver, Leigh Anne Tuohy.  Some people have said it’s  arrogantly racist and some people have said it’s amazingly inspiring.  The book of The Blind Side is about the series of Gifts that connected Michael Oher and the Tuohys and the schools and the coaches and the players and the community around them.  And there’s no debate from the peanut gallery here; complexity is the bane of knee-jerk arguing.

It is so so  so much easier to make a story simple by looking at just one person, just the Giver or just the Recipient.  But when we do this, we miss the connection, the impact (or the lack thereof).  We miss the Gift.