Oscar Chavez: What I've come to appreciate is the fact that my personal journey, while it's been filled with challenge and adversity, I wouldn't trade it for anything else. To be able to come as an undocumented child to experience the kind of access and opportunity that I had—to now live the way that I live by every measure, whether it's social or economic—I have achieved the American dream. And within that lies this tremendous responsibility and obligation to make that real for the next generation.

Lisa Carreño: Hello. Welcome to We're the Leaders We're Looking For, a podcast from United Way of the Wine Country, produced with tech support and direction from Brandt Hoekenga and TIV Branding. We are here to share the voices of our neighbors, changemakers, and everyday leaders who are building a region rooted in belonging, resilience, and justice. I'm Lisa Carreño, president and CEO of United Way of the Wine Country. Thanks for joining us, and let’s get started.

Native American wisdom teaches deep respect for the earth, all living beings, and our interconnectedness. It reminds us that we each carry responsibility for how we show up in the community and in the world. The Hopi Elders' message from June 8th, 2003, calls us to remember our power. We shape the reality we live in, and we each have a role in creating a more compassionate and just future. Hopi elders provide this prophecy for the new millennia:

"You have been telling people that this is the 11th hour. Now you must go back and tell people that this is the hour, and that there are things to be considered. Where are you living? What are you doing? What are your relationships? Are you in right relation? Where is your water? Know your garden. It is time to speak your truth. Create your community. Be good to each other. And do not look outside yourself for your leader.

This could be a good time. There is a river flowing now very fast. It is so great and swift that there are those who will be afraid. They will try to hold on to the shore. They will feel they are being torn apart and will suffer greatly. You know the river has its destination. The elders say we must let go of the shore. Push off into the middle of the river. Keep our eyes open and our heads above the water. And I say, see who is in there with you and celebrate."

At this time in history, we are to take nothing personally, least of all ourselves. For the moment that we do, our spiritual growth and journey come to a halt. The time of the lone wolf is over. Gather yourselves. Banish the word "struggle" from your attitude and your vocabulary. All that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration. We are the ones we've been waiting for.

As we continue season one of We're the Leaders We're Looking For, the wisdom of the Hopi elders offers a grounding reminder: the leadership we seek is already alive within us. Our season so far has been a journey into this truth, an unfolding portrait of what courageous, heart-centered leadership looks like across our diverse North Bay community. In our first conversations, J Mullineaux, Lori Fong, and Herman G. Hernandez each illuminated essential dimensions of this inner leadership. Jay reminded us of the quiet courage of service; Lori offered deep cultural wisdom and steadfast presence; Herman expanded our understanding of representation and the bravery required to build belonging. Together, their voices have helped form a rich, multi-dimensional portrait of leadership rooted in connection, purpose, and justice.

In this episode, Oscar Chavez, president and CEO of the Community Foundation Sonoma County, adds a powerful new thread. Oscar broadens our understanding of generosity, inviting us to see it not as an occasional act, but as a daily relational practice that shapes how we need to hold one another—always, and especially now, as we experience times of uncertainty, chaos, and rupture. Oscar's reflections challenge us to explore and live into a profound question: How can we create the conditions for more love to emerge?

With Oscar's contribution, season one continues to reveal the leaders we are and the leaders we are becoming. These conversations affirm that leadership is not a title or a position. Leadership is a practice awakened through love, generosity, courage, and our shared commitment to community. Thanks for joining us once again. And please pardon the brief background buzz you'll hear around 50 minutes in—a small reminder that even in deep conversation, life continues bustling around us. We'll be sure to silence devices going forward.

Welcome, Oscar Chavez. It is so nice to sit down and have this conversation with you. Thank you for being a part of the show today.

Oscar Chavez: Yeah, and thank you, Lisa, for the invitation. When I mentioned to you that I had listened to one of the podcasts and you invited me, I was so grateful. It's truly an honor to spend time with you and to just have a conversation about why we care so deeply about this community.

Lisa Carreño: Well, I'm grateful for the opportunity. When we first met years ago, you were the executive director of Community Action Partnership, Sonoma County. Today, you are the CEO of the Community Foundation, Sonoma County. I know a little bit about your background, but I’d be very grateful for you to share a bit about your journey and what story of your life particularly reminds you why you do this work.

Oscar Chavez: Great, thank you for that. You know, I think my story is very similar to the thousands and thousands of immigrants that come to this country to seek a better life and better opportunity that is just really difficult in their country of origin. My father in the 70s would come to the United States and work for about seven months and then go back. Over time, it just became much more difficult to travel without documentation, so he decided to stay and save some money. Then my mother joined him, and two years later, they saved some more money and were able to bring my sister and I to the United States.

So, our experience is of moving to the Central Valley to a farming community as undocumented individuals, really having to live in the shadows of community and society. The kind of fear that a lot of our immigrants are feeling today, we felt that back in the 80s. And it was real. I remember my father driving my mother to the fields in the dark, like at three in the morning, to avoid checkpoints. She would have to sit in the dark for a couple of hours until the rest of the workers came. That's the kind of reality that undocumented people experience.

That experience shaped the way I saw the world and shaped the way I felt about my position, my community, and my school. It wasn't always pleasant. I quickly learned that our construct or the system that we live in is not designed for people like us. And so we have to learn to navigate it in different ways. Through that experience, I saw immense generosity of people extending support to myself and my family. That’s really the answer to your question about what has informed my work today: the immense capacity that people have to be generous towards others.

I've really framed the way that I do my work and see the world from this place of love and generosity. There are no limits to that. Although we live in a world where we often see things in very finite terms—from a place of "there's just not enough"—there is always enough love and there's always enough generosity. I was the beneficiary of that as I was growing up, and it really had profound impacts on me.

You want me to share a couple of stories? Absolutely. Coming from what I would now consider extreme poverty—though when you're in it, it’s all relative—I didn't feel poor when I lived in Mexico because we were all in the same situation. In fact, there felt like a greater sense of abundance there. People looked out for each other; there was that mutual support.

But coming here, you really begin to feel different because others begin to "other" you. I remember going to school—I came here in July and went to school for the first time—and I thought that I had gone to heaven. To step into this classroom with so many colors all over the walls, and crayons and books... I just couldn't believe there was just so much stuff that I could look at, read, and use. Then I went to the cafeteria and there was lunch provided. I just thought that was incredible. I’m coming to a school where there's all these things that stimulate kids, and then they feed you, and then there's playground equipment. I was just so struck by all of that and how nice people were.

I remember in third grade, we had an opportunity to take a field trip to a zoo. My parents didn't have any resources or money, and low-income children who are on the free lunch program get their paper bag for lunch. I remember we were getting ready to leave, and there was an opportunity for the kids to go into the gift shop to buy things. I was just sitting by the bench by myself, and my third-grade teacher came up and started talking to me. Her name was Mrs. Frazier. She spoke Spanish and she asked me if I was going to go in and buy anything. I said no. And she asked why. It was hard for me to say, "I don't have any money." She just reached into her pocket and offered me a few bucks to go in and buy something. I remember buying two pencils.

That act of kindness and generosity made me feel like the rest of the kids; it was very impactful for me. Or when she would recognize the things that I was doing by giving me a little certificate of achievement. Those things just meant so much for me. And to see my parents just light up because I was doing well felt really, really good.

It doesn't end there. I can tell you stories of when my father got a job on the farm and we had an opportunity to move there. They had eight homes for farmworkers. The owner of the farm and his wife were just tremendously generous individuals. They really treated everybody on the farm as an extension of their family. They would provide gifts for the kids, so we never really felt different. I just thought there was such an incredible act for somebody to see others as equals, not as their workforce or less than. Those things shape the way you look at the world.

I think that I've been a good student of my surroundings—observing leadership in other people and trying to emulate the qualities that stand out to me. Richard and Sue were certainly two of those individuals. I was 13 and didn't have a work permit, but I was able to do work around the farm. He would always ask me about how I was doing in school, and he would challenge the kids that if you got straight A's, he would reward you. They would invite us into their homes.

When I was turning 13, he asked me what I was going to do for my birthday. At that time, I don't even think I understood what the word "teenager" meant. I said, "I'm not doing anything," and he said, "Well, we're going to throw you a party. Being 13 is a big deal." So he opened up his home, we invited family, and we had a big barbecue. It was just such a nice experience. For him to be able to create that experience was not about taking the role of my parents, but really being a supporter. They were clear: "Your parents work super hard, and whatever we can do to help is important to us."

That kind of generosity—doing things for others and helping people—has been a core component of how I see the world and show up in spaces. Life is already complicated enough, and if we can be better, not just for ourselves but for our family or our neighbors, that in and of itself can be transformative if you're trying to do community work.

Lisa Carreño: Absolutely. I appreciate so much how what you've described in Mrs. Frazier and the couple on the farm shows how they saw you and your family. Choosing to come from a place of kindness and sharing what they had seemed to come naturally because you were a part of them. There was no separation.

Oscar Chavez: Yeah, that's interesting that you say that. Through that process, I just developed immense love and appreciation for them. It was a full-circle experience a number of years ago when I was on the school board for the Windsor Unified School District. I was attending a conference talking about the Portrait of Sonoma report, and my third-grade teacher showed up to hear my presentation. She was so proud of what I had accomplished. She herself had become the county superintendent of schools in Kern County. We shared this incredible reunion. It provided another opportunity for me to thank her and communicate how the love she expressed for me as a kid who couldn't speak a word of English was life-changing.

Lisa Carreño: I bet that was really special. Have you had that with the farm couple, too?

Oscar Chavez: I have. I consider them like my second set of parents. I can point to people throughout my life who have really shaped who I am. Richard and Sue created opportunities for me to see a completely different world—a world of privilege that I only saw in movies. They were generous enough to bring my sister and I on their family vacations. We would go to the beach, they rented a beach house, they had a big RV and quads—things we never imagined we would participate in. That gave me this desire to do more, to see if I could achieve this and do great things.

When I turned 16, he asked me if I was going to get my driver's license. I said I wanted to, but we didn't have car insurance. A few days later, he told me to make an appointment and he would take me. The farm we lived on was about a 40-minute drive into town. He was a big guy, very tall. He got out of the car in cowboy boots and said, "Oscar, I'm going to walk down to this motel and get a drink. When you're done and you pass your exam, come and pick me up." I froze and panicked. I said, "Richard, what if I fail?" And he said, "Listen, I know I can walk there, but I can't walk back. So you better not fail." I didn't fail. I got my license, and it was only because he took me that I was able to do that.

They were such a big part of our lives—graduations, our wedding. They became family. More importantly, they made me feel like I could belong. Society does a good job of "othering" people who don't look like them or aren't from the same socioeconomic background, but they helped to normalize things and gave me the kind of confidence that every teenager needs.

Later, we moved away from the farm and settled in the housing projects in Shafter because circumstances didn't provide other opportunities. That too was challenging. Around that time, we were in the process of gaining legal status through the amnesty program that President Reagan passed in 1986. It wasn't until my junior year of high school that I was considered a permanent legal resident. Before then, you couldn't get any medical services or food assistance; we just relied on the generosity of neighbors.

During high school, I met a director from a program called Career Beginnings named Rita Martinez. It was designed to support first-generation college students, focusing on low-income and immigrant children. It was a summer program that brought kids onto a university campus. I had always avoided applying for programs because my parents told me our Social Security numbers weren't "real," but she told us, "If you're selected, you'll go to school for four hours and work for four hours, and you get paid for the entire eight hours." I thought that was a joke. You're going to pay me to go to school and work in an air-conditioned office? I was working in the fields with my mom, and Kern County is really hot.

I signed up and was selected. They bused us to the university, and the most interesting part was meeting the president of the university, who happened to be Latino. I honestly never imagined that was possible. You could have said we were going to go see a unicorn. The people around me were hard-working, but they weren't in the professional class. I didn't know the chief of police or elected officials. To hear the story of this president and have him signal that I could be like him was eye-opening.

Programs like this that take young people out of their environment and put them in places of possibility are life-changing. After the summer, I was selected for a 22-day Outward Bound experience. I’d never been camping and had no equipment, but through the generosity of donors, I had this incredible opportunity. That experience changed me because I never saw myself as a leader in high school—I did everything not to be seen because of our legal status. I was like a ghost passing through.

During the trip, I hurt my knees. At the end, they broke the groups up by ability, and because I was injured, they made me the leader of that group. I was upset at first; I wanted to go with the athletic groups. But that taught me so much about responsibility. If we don't stop and set up camp, it’s going to be much more difficult for the group, and I can't let these folks down. I came back to my senior year a very different, much more confident person. Rita saw something in me that I couldn't see in myself. That led to a ten-year working relationship with her. She was my mentor. She would take us to conferences full of PhDs, and she would put me on the spot: "Oscar, you're a young person, what do you think? Does this resonate with you?" She thrust me into conversation.

Had it not been for her and her ability to see my potential, I don't think I could have done what I am doing now. She opened the kinds of doors that folks with privilege have an easier time opening. I learned so much from those experiences that now inform my work. I’m paying forward what I benefited from. We get to where we are because of the kindness and support of others.

Lisa Carreño: It’s beautiful. You're expanding the definition of generosity to include love, belief, and the power of someone having faith in you when you’re struggling to believe in yourself. That is transformational.

Oscar Chavez: Absolutely. Someone once asked me how we help people feel like they belong. It’s a simple question, yet so difficult. I realized I felt like I belonged when I no longer felt like a "client" or a "case." As families in need, we're given labels: "at-risk," "migrant," "high-risk." I've come to realize I was not the label people gave me. The harsh reality is that we weren't broken; we were just broke.

There came a moment where I shed that client mentality and had the confidence to show up as someone who had something to contribute. Words matter. The way we invite people into a conversation or experience matters. Society was made for some people, but for others, we struggle through it. If we can close that gap and bring more people along, we will create more inclusive communities.

Lisa Carreño: I sense that behind what you've shared is the idea of creating the conditions for belonging. An invisible force that holds relations together is trust. I'm not sure there's a strong sense of trust when one person sees themselves as the "provider" and the other as "provided for." That power differential doesn't lend itself to trust.

Oscar Chavez: You're absolutely right. That construct is something I've been fighting against because it doesn't serve anybody. What serves us is when we see ourselves as equals in the work. When you are being "othered," you feel it. Your gut doesn't lie to you. At Community Action Partnership, we served immigrant communities, and it was important that we didn't engage them from a place of "look what we're doing for you," but by creating conditions for families to grow in their own leadership. Everyone has agency.

Today, a lot of the funding in the nonprofit world is designed to address the symptoms of poverty, but rarely the root causes. We need to move beyond urgent services and invest in the vital conditions for community well-being. How much should go into the criminal justice system versus guaranteeing everyone has access to quality preschool or jobs that provide discretionary income? I've been in pursuit of root-cause solutions throughout my career—at the Community Action Partnership, at the county leading the upstream investments initiative, and now at the Foundation.

Lisa Carreño: What practices help you stay rooted in your values when the world feels overwhelming?

Oscar Chavez: I’m a servant leader. I believe that to lead, you must serve in the interest of others. It’s important to be consistent and persistent. I also try to recognize what is a "construct" and what is "real." Policy shifts and constructs change, but what remains real is the love people feel, the fear, and the kindness. If you stick to what is real and true, there's a lot of peace and comfort in leading that way. Advancing human potential—that’s the stuff that gets me up every day.

Lisa Carreño: How does my commitment to love and kindness help me advance human potential? That’s a lovely wake-up call.

Oscar Chavez: What is the purpose of humanity if not to preserve life and make us a better species? We're using all these words, but at the end of the day, it's about love. How can we create the conditions for more love to emerge? We are living in polarizing times where we only listen to content that reinforces our viewpoint. We never create the opportunity to listen to the perspective of the "other." But to influence others, you have to be open to being influenced yourself.

Lisa Carreño: What's one lesson you hope others carry forward from your journey?

Oscar Chavez: As I’m getting older, I’ve come to appreciate that while my journey was filled with challenge, I wouldn't trade it. I have achieved the American dream by every measure. And within that lies an obligation to make that real for the next generation. Success should not just be afforded to a few. The agency and intellect are there in the young people today; the conditions just aren't always there for them to be successful. We need to continue to make this a land of opportunity and recognize that this country has been shaped by the contributions of so many immigrants. When I die, I want my tombstone to say, "He fought to advance human potential and to help young people achieve the American dream."

Lisa Carreño: Thank you, Oscar. Thanks for being here.

Oscar Chavez: Thank you.

Lisa Carreño: Thanks for listening, folks. We're grateful that you've joined us in community today and that you believe in the importance of building belonging, resilience, and justice. Be sure to subscribe to this podcast and follow us on social media—Facebook, LinkedIn, and Nextdoor. We're banned from Instagram; I'll leave that to you to figure out why. Sign up for our newsletter at our website, unitedwaywinecountry.org, and share our conversations with a friend. We are the leaders we're looking for, and we're just looking for a place to get started. Thanks for starting here.