Carnell Chosa grew up in Jémez Pueblo, New Mexico, a small community of about 3,500 members. As a child, he would often see his mother and grandmother pack grocery bags to deliver to ceremonies or events.
“I’d ask them in our language, Towa, ‘What are you doing?’ And they would say, respond, in Towa, ‘We’re going to go attach our heart.’” Chosa said this philosophy “was always present for me and for people in my community, and I imagine for other Indigenous communities as well.”
Chosa went on receive his bachelor’s degree from Dartmouth College, a master’s from Harvard University and a doctorate from Arizona State University, and cofounded and codirects the Leadership Institute at the Santa Fe Indian School. In 2018, he launched the Attach Your Heart Foundation, which supports Pueblo youth and communities through education, art and environmental initiatives. “I call it a ‘toddler foundation’ that has a very old soul and spirit,” he said. “We have a word for that in my language, for when you see a kid who’s just so alive and so knowledgeable.”
I recently chatted with Chosa about how his childhood shaped his approach to philanthropy, lessons learned from running a foundation and more. Here are some excerpts from that discussion, which have been edited for clarity.
Did you have any formative experiences that set you on a path to philanthropy?
My first examples of philanthropists were the members of my tribal community, my mom, my grandparents and my family. I grew up in the adobe house that my grandpa built, and then we moved in with my grandparents in an adobe house that my great-grandfather built. Our way of life was philanthropy, because in small communities, you support one another. Some other words, like being “socially conscious,” “generous,” “loving” — define philanthropy for me, and there’s also the financial part. But ultimately, supporting a way of life was most important, and I saw that in my family and community.
What advice would you give your 20-year-old self?
To be brave enough to believe in and move forward with the teachings that I was raised in. At that age, I was like many people who stepped into the world and removed themselves from community. You want to try new things and be more independent, and I think my 20-year-old self didn’t connect the rooted teachings of my community to the new experiences. So I’d advise myself to keep that connection strong. If I had done that, I probably would have started the Attach Your Heart Foundation in my 20s, as opposed to in my late 40s.
How did the Attach Your Heart Foundation come together?
When I moved to New Hampshire for college, I started to look at the role that my tribal community played in making me who I am. Then later, in my graduate degree in psychology, I looked at the opposite side of that — how an individual influences community.
At Dartmouth, I had a mentor, the late Charmay Allred, who was a philanthropist in Santa Fe and always sent me cards and letters of encouragement. I was curious about what she did, and I realized that her philanthropy was similar to the philanthropy that I grew up with, so I began to explore what it would look like for me to engage in that space.
After I graduated, I moved back to New Mexico and worked for the Chamiza Foundation to learn more about their work with tribal communities, and specifically Pueblo communities. By that point, I knew I wanted to create a foundation, but there were other individuals creating something similar, so I stepped back and thought I could support those efforts. Those foundations ultimately weren’t built, so I moved forward with Attach Your Heart Foundation.
What’s been the most rewarding part of the experience so far? Challenges?
The feedback that I get from community. I always share the story of the name and the philosophy behind it, and because we’re a foundation that only gives to 19 Pueblo tribal communities, there’s a familiarity and a sense of belonging because people recognize the framework. I also get a positive reaction from colleagues and potential donors, because it’s often a new and fresh approach for them.
Then there’s the immediate giving aspect. The foundation provides Heart Awards, which are scholarships to college students. We use a Pueblo-based or Pueblo way-of-life framework to recognize or support someone, without having them compete for awards. It’s new for students to receive a letter and know they’ve been recognized by community members. I’d also add that two mentors that have been instrumental in helping me create the foundation are Santa Fe’s Mary Anne Larsen and Christa Coggins.
As for challenges, I had to take a sabbatical from a larger project I started to take this year to build out the foundation. So the challenge is to have the resources to be sustainable.
How do you spend your downtime?
I’m an orchardist, and my mom and I plant fruit trees in the 19 Pueblo communities. We noticed that the generation of trees we grew up with are dying or they’re gone, so in the spring and fall, we plant mini orchards for tribal community members. I’m also learning to weave. My mother’s a weaver, her parents were weavers and their parents were weavers, and I felt a sense of commitment to not break that line.
If there’s one book you could recommend to our readers, what would that be?
I just picked it up again — this will probably be the fourth time I’ve read it — and it’s “The Alchemist” by Paulo Coelho. I read it when I moved back home to New Mexico after being on the East Coast for six years, and it made me realize that treasure and valuables are here at home.
For me, the message is about following your dreams and destiny. And in this process of raising this foundation, it’s been a journey that’s emotional, spiritual, communal and physical, and the shepherd in that story was experiencing all of that as he traveled to find his treasure and valuables. It’s a book I re-read every four years, and it seems like there’s always a different message for me as I get older.
I’d also recommend “Pueblo Nations” by Nee Hemish and “Invisible No More,” which is edited by Raymond Foxworth of First Nations Development Institute and Steve Dubb of The Nonprofit Quarterly.
Any parting thoughts?
I would love for philanthropy to take a closer look at small “toddler foundations” with old souls and old spirits, and instead of giving small grants, provide support to build endowments that puts them on a path to sustainability.
My goal isn’t to be a $100 million foundation. It’s to be sustainable enough so I can run our programs in a conscious way, specific to these 19 Pueblo communities. There’s an opportunity to look at smaller initiatives and give them the light they need to exist for a long time, because the work is so concentrated in these spaces where we’re trying to preserve culture, language, the arts and a sense of belonging.
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