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Tony Robinson, the Community Development Officer at Wainwright Bank and Trust, chooses his words carefully when he talks about his program to bring banking education to the inner-city community.
"I don't use the phrase Financial Literacy, it should be Financial Empowerment. 'Literacy' makes the people that you are trying to reach feel inferior. 'Empowerment', on the other hand, gives people strength. It gives them power."
And the emphasis is definitely on the word "power." If Robinson, 40, sounds like he's preaching, it's because he is also a certified minister.
"That's my ministry," he says, his eyes intent through his wire-rimmed glasses. "To reach the community you have to preach to them. You have to care; to understand."
Every two weeks Robinson does just that. A tall, confident man who exudes charisma, he takes his message of financial empowerment to the inner-city community, through non-profit institutions, high schools and churches.
Most of the requests come from referrals and word of mouth. With a multi-media presentation full of quick-moving graphics and catchy lyrics, he reaches his audience on two levels: while he is teaching them the value of money, he is also instilling them with the confidence that comes with knowledge.
"Financial empowerment is individuals having the knowledge and insight of how the financial market can better their financial future," Robinson grows reflective as he defines the phrase. "Without this knowledge, one just runs around in circles, unable to break the cycle of poverty."
Robinson reaches his audience by shattering their preconceived notions of who he is. He asks his audience to describe him. He smiles as if he has a secret while they come back with: handsome, successful banker, well-educated, Harvard, maybe.
The room goes quiet as he relates his own personal story. He is one of them. He grew up on the same streets. As a matter of fact, he lived for a time in a triple-decker right around the corner from this particular shelter. He spent fifteen years in the army and then studied theology, becoming a certified minister.
After that he started working at Wainwright Bank and Trust in the mailroom. He spent his spare time reading the periodicals that he delivered, such as the Wall Street Journal and American Banker, and learning about CRA (Community Reinvestment Act). This self-education provided the foundation for the ideas that propelled him out of the mailroom and into an office on the banking floor of the headquarters' branch.
After hearing his story, the women at the shelter were hooked. They listened to the presentation and took notes, some with their children on their laps.
"He's good," said Charlotte, a tall, thin woman, explaining how Robinson got her attention. "He's cool. He makes you want to listen to him. He's not boring or whatever - he puts some oomph into it."
She, along with several of the other women, were eager to put the newly learned savings and banking skills into practice, pointing out purchases they had made in the past week that they could have done without: hair products, jeans, makeup and candy.
The timing is right for his message. There has been an effort made to reach the inner-city communities: the CRA act was designed to do that, there has also been an increase in branches and ATM's and other financial literacy programs.
But what has been missing is an understanding of how to reach the soul of these communities, how to get beyond a superficial presence and fully tap the market.
Robinson, in his unswerving manner, began to educate his employers at the bank on how to understand the inner-city communities - how they think about the financial world. He realized that the financial world didn't know how to reach these communities and that these communities felt equally isolated. He saw that there needed to be a bridge to bring both of these communities together in such a way that both sides win.
As he explains it, the benefit to the financial world is a bigger customer base, which in turn means more profit, and the benefit to the inner-city communities is more knowledge and the resources to get themselves out of poverty. The bank listened and gave him the chance to prove his ideas.
Part of the success of this program is the support that he receives from the bank, Wainwright Bank & Trust. Wainwright Bank and its co-chairmen, Robert Glassman and John Plukas, believe that banking and strong social justice ethics can go hand-in-hand and are supporters of issues such as community development, affordable housing, women's rights, and gay and lesbian rights.
Since its inception in the mind 1980's, the bank has been distinctive in the financial services marketplace, firmly committed to their message and to remaining independent.
"The credit for this initiative belongs entirely to Tony Robinson," Glassman says, discouraging any perception that this is a top-down program created in the executive offices of the bank. "Tony has played a vital role in the bank's outreach."
Steve Young, Robinson's manager and a Senior Vice President at Wainwright Bank, who mentored Robinson and supported his move out of the mailroom, echoes this sentiment.
"Tony provides yet another facet to the bank's social agenda. By doing what he does, he has attracted several non-profits to the bank. He adds a public relations face to the bank and has attracted several large accounts and deposits."
This synergy between the two communities that Robinson is trying to bridge was also represented in the words of Paula, one of the women at the Roxbury shelter.
"He's good for the community," Paula firmly stated, "He's good for the 'hood."
Robinson firmly believes that poverty can be overcome through knowledge. And Robinson, minister of financial empowerment, is in a unique position to impart that knowledge.
By the end of the presentation, even the most shy are drawn in. They repeat back the lessons learned and ask questions about opening their own accounts, many willing to travel the extra distance to open them at his branch.
As the presentation draws to a close, a snippet of a popular song comes through the speakers, Puff Daddy's familiar rap now with a more personal meaning, "It's all about the Benjamins, baby." ^ back to top ^
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