The view from the trenches in frontline BIPOC communities fighting for resources is hopeful, though sobering: there has been a boom in energy and interest since the passage of the Inflation Reduction Act (IRA) in 2022. But while this legislation may have provided “historic” funding for clean energy (at least $370 billion), ensuring that money reaches these communities remains a challenge.

Getting dollars to those who need them most has been a topic of conversation since the day the legislation passed. Indeed, it’s a challenge with all federal spending. As Lois DeBacker and Joe Evans have pointed out, federal funds tend to flow to those with “capacity” rather than those who need the money the most. Pronita Gupta and Justin Maxson reinforced this point, writing that “often communities that would have the strongest claim on federal funding programs are least likely to be able to craft their applications to obtain them.”

Without practical strategies for capacity building and a shift in the norm of corporate extraction of resources, frontline BIPOC communities may see only a nominal impact from this potentially transformative climate investment.

What Is at Stake?

At stake is whether or not frontline BIPOC communities are able to capitalize on a key provision of the IRA that facilitates the rapid growth of community solar.

Advocates are still fighting for community-driven and community-owned solar processes.

Community solar—more accurately dubbed “distributed solar”—is off-site production in open space or atop large facilities (often churches or municipal facilities), to which anyone in the community can subscribe. Sunset Park Solar, a 685-kilowatt solar array to be built on top of the waterfront Brooklyn Army Terminal in New York City, profiled in NPQ last year, is an excellent example of this approach.

Distributed solar comes at a high price, however. Typically, a one-megawatt solar array can power at least 400 homes for a year at a cost of about $4 million—making this cost-prohibitive to most community developers. In response, the IRA’s $27 billion Greenhouse Gas Reduction Fund includes a “direct pay” provision that actively supports nonprofits (along with state and local governments, tribal nations, and territories) to engage in this work by offering coverage of up to 70 percent of a project’s costs.

Even so, advocates are still fighting for community-driven and community-owned solar processes that require not only enabling legislation but “a movement commitment to building local capacity and countering extractive patterns,” according to Selena Feliciano of the Energy Democracy Project. Similarly, veteran environmental justice activist and senior fellow at Seed Commons Ed Whitfield told NPQ, “We have work to do to convince both others and ourselves that we are truly the ones we have been waiting for.”

What are some practical strategies for building local capacity and breaking a colonial mindset around community energy production? From my vantage point as an advocate, veteran community developer, and recent co-director of the People’s Solar Energy Fund (PSEF), here are some starting points gleaned from the field:

Strategy 1: Locate “Energy Pathways” 

Contrary to some outsiders’ beliefs, BIPOC communities do care about climate and have existing resources—even hidden gems. “Recognizing the work and consciousness already present could enable any new entrants to start with a community assets orientation,” says Garry Harris, founder and CEO of the Atlanta-based Center for Sustainable Communities.

At PSEF, we learned that we couldn’t limit our search for partners to those demonstrating the capacity to build out community-driven solar since that barely existed. Consequently, we secured some of our best, most diverse partners—including board members—by broadening our scope to connect with groups already working on climate issues in various ways: education and advocacy, energy assistance, weatherization, and electric conversion—or workforce development for green jobs.

Proof of concept is strong, with exemplars around the country. Chicago’s Blacks in Green is currently developing a three-site, nine-megawatt project. In Portland, OR, Verde has a $4 million, three-acre project underway to serve 200 mostly low-income households. In Detroit, Green Door Initiative won a Department of Energy (DOE) innovation grant to create a solarized model building for the community, and their 14-year-old workforce program is now adding solar panel installation.

Similarly, the Indigenous-led Native Sun, based in Minnesota, has grown its workforce development program, emphasizing clean transportation for tribal nations of the Upper Midwest and expanding electric vehicle charging.

“The Green New Deal…must not repeat the discrimination and exclusion of the original New Deal.”

In Highland Park, a small city surrounded by Detroit, Soulardarity is engaging its community around solar energy. This initiative stems from fights with the local utility that physically removed city streetlights due to a municipal funding crisis.

Broad energy education, advocacy, and assistance with electric power conversion have been the focus of two California groups—Local Clean Energy Alliance (based in the San Francisco Bay Area) and Village Solutions (a faith-based community development corporation based in Irvine, southeast of Los Angeles). Both organizations see their work as laying the groundwork for community-owned distributed solar.

Public Power New Mexico has forged a coalition in the Southwest to engage the community in this new opportunity by fighting for solar-friendly legislation and publicly owned power. In Puerto Rico, long-standing alternative energy efforts, fueled by the privatized utility’s inadequate response to hurricanes, have attracted a new federal $1 billion commitment to invest in community-driven solar.

Strategy 2: Invest in Capacity Building

How do we seize this moment to not only advance community energy but ensure that a good portion of the billions being spent are cycled through BIPOC communities, helping to foster true long-term self-determination? “The Green New Deal,” notes Whitfield, “must not repeat the discrimination and exclusion of the original New Deal.”

Ajulo Othow of Black Owners of Solar Services (B.O.S.S.) adds, “We can avoid replicating past missed opportunities and perpetuating patterns of colonial, extractive behavior by ensuring investment in our local infrastructure and local ecosystems, especially our BIPOC businesses.”

National BIPOC environmental justice advocates, such as the Climate Justice Alliance, the Chisolm Legacy Project, PolicyLink, Indigenous Environmental Network, and NAACP, have played a pivotal role in ensuring that the legislation and associated regulations target support for frontline communities. A key aspect of this is allocating resources for capacity building and technical assistance through federal initiatives such as EPA’s Thriving Communities Technical Assistance Centers (TCTAC) and Clean Communities Investment Accelerator (CCIA) programs.

At PSEF, the first two cycles of our newly developed training programs enabled 66 groups and individuals to gain exposure to the world of community-based solar development and key tenets of a climate resilience vision oriented toward a just transition. Admittedly, this was a cursory introduction; this new cadre of predominantly BIPOC graduates needs to now pursue more advanced field training opportunities, such as Solar United Neighbors, the Black Liberation and Just Transition Institute from the Chisholm Legacy Project, or the Community Power Accelerator under the DOE and the University of New Hampshire’s Carsey School of Public Policy.

But a shortage of trained staff persists, leading organizations to compete for employees at times. “I guess I should be flattered by other groups trying to snatch up my staff,” Bob Blake, executive director of Native Sun tells NPQ. But what the field needs, Blake says, are more training vehicles. “I see some progress; but we need more easy, online access to quality material.”

As Gupta and Maxson point out, helping to find and grow innovative and effective training is a challenging and costly area, well-suited for the greater nimbleness of philanthropic support. And training needs are not limited to technical issues.

“Understanding energy alone does not make a solid organization,” insists Reverend Frank Jackson of Village Solutions. He adds, “You can’t be serious about doing any type of community development involving grants and contracts without having your house in order: governance, finances, accountability.”

Strategy 3: Message Appropriately

For climate issues to resonate in US frontline communities, clear messaging is key. However, work remains to shift from the White middle-class perspective, which has historically focused mainstream climate organizations on potential future planetary impacts instead of the current havoc frontline communities are experiencing.

Organizations may do well to review their websites and general outreach materials and presentations. It’s still common to see a mainstream climate group’s marketing leading with something akin to “clean energy for the planet.” This pitch, combined with the lack of community rootedness, adds to the many challenges solar developers experience in enrolling subscribers. As Jackson notes, in promoting solar, “you’ve got to find and follow the community’s own immediate interest.”

Clean energy is, of course, a compelling issue in countless BIPOC communities: the environmental justice movement was born from protests against toxic dumping in Black communities in eastern North Carolina.

In many frontline communities, quality of life—including something as simple as kids being able to go out and play—may be a more compelling draw than savings on renewable energy bills.

This is especially true today, given that discounts are modest so long as solar development remains costly. Furthermore, although materialism is often assumed to be the greatest concern of low-income urban populations, health and wellbeing are significant drivers.

Understanding this shared bond among frontline communities is valuable. Still, it is important to understand distinctions among these groups to achieve broad community buy-in. While the term “BIPOC” is valued for its solidarity against White supremacy, it can obfuscate some critical differences requiring distinct approaches in different communities.

The most obvious of these issues is language accessibility, particularly providing materials and services in Spanish for the country’s burgeoning Latinx population. More subtle concerns exist as well. Jackson, for instance, notes that the communities he works with have “a long history of broken promises, along with the experience of ‘community improvement’ meaning greater vulnerability and gentrification. So, we’ve got to do special work and relationship building just to get folks to sign up!”

Whitfield, for his part, observes that frontline communities have not only “experienced the worst environmental harm but that they also remain the most locked out of upward mobility, including the growing wave of new non-White folks we see entering this field. ‘BIPOC’ is a problematic category if it blocks us from seeing these differences and not giving special attention to those still left out.”

Putting the Strategies Together

Getting federal climate dollars to frontline communities of color where they are most needed will not happen automatically. Instead, rollout requires a commitment to identify and support capacity within impacted communities and tap into the growing ecosystem of developing community-driven energy alternatives.

Fostering partnerships with a commitment to a just transition vision and community leadership is the surest path to community ownership, broad buy-in, and promoting solar as a desirable, viable pathway for frontline communities. Hopefully, attention to these strategic areas will enhance an ongoing flow of resources that builds long-lasting capacity in communities not only for environmental protection but for overall economic development and empowerment.