On paper, Joe Ganim and I have a lot in common. Neither one of us is native to Bridgeport, where I’ve lived for over 10 years and where he’s been mayor for the better part of 20. We both grew up in suburbs with parents who were well-off, attending schools that placed us at an advantage over our urban peers. His father was a prominent attorney and a Republican Party loyalist. We both benefit from race, gender and class privilege. 

Our similar childhoods mean that, as adults, we could be walking similar paths. Yet, it’s what we’ve decided to do with our unearned privileges that separates us. In recent years, I’ve learned about three forms of power: Power over, exerting power over others, to expand or limit rights; Power for, using power for others, to act on their behalf; and Power with, building and sharing power with others. This last kind of power comes from collective activity. 

Growing up in Fairfield County, I rarely heard critical conversations about how we were using our power. In my experience, my Fairfield County peers often simply donate to a nonprofit industry that’s had difficulty in closing racial and economic disparities; or alternatively, choose comfort and check out of social justice issues entirely. Over the years, by listening and learning from people closest to injustices, I’ve come to understand that there’s a big difference between engaging in power over communities vs engaging in power with communities — and that acting on that difference is important. 

Joe Ganim came to Bridgeport and began a career of “public service” after winning his first mayoral election in 1991. He then chose to use his position to exert power over, not power with, the people of Bridgeport. Soon into his mayoralty, this man who was given every advantage in life, used those advantages to defraud an oppressed constituency to line his pockets.

Upon his release from jail in 2010, Ganim abused the concept of a “second chance” society as his comeback strategy. That concept, born out of the work of Michelle Alexander in her book, “The New Jim Crow,” powerfully exposed the system of mass incarceration of Black people, Black men in particular. It’s a social movement grounded in racial justice and equity, not in privilege. By using this concept to regain political power, Ganim trampled on the work of Black activists and co-opted their social justice organizing. From lying about a drug addiction so he could be released from jail early to flipping high-end real estate during his mayoral tenure, Joe Ganim continues to show a willingness to abuse his power for his own personal gain.

I am grateful to be walking a different path. In our 10 years in Bridgeport, my partner, Callie, and I have wrestled with how to use our privileges to build power with others dedicated to social change; in other words, we aim to emulate a solidarity model. In conversations with neighbors — many life-long residents — we got to know groups all over the city who have been fighting for social and political justice here for decades.

During our first 10 years, we used our wealth to give meaningful financial support to organizations doing cultural and political liberation work in Bridgeport. We don’t ask for board seats or governance powers, we don’t hold press conferences or demand our names be mentioned. We give the people doing the work resources they need, period. We have also supplemented our donations, helping to raise over $2 million in public and private funds for these organizations. Finally, we have testified publicly in support of raising taxes on people like us to end our state’s massive inequalities and shift resources to our city’s underfunded public services, like education. 

But we also recognized some gaps in what the existing nonprofit landscape could achieve. Specifically, Bridgeport suffers from a weak democracy with low voter education and turnout, and a machine politics that makes elections about personality and patronage over the issues impacting Bridgeporters lives. In 2019, with President Gemeem Davis, I helped create Bridgeport Generation Now Votes, the 501(c)(4) affiliate of Bridgeport Generation Now dedicated to strengthening democracy and protecting voting rights through legislation, litigation and grassroots organizing. Gen Now Votes works alongside a powerful group of seven other organizations across diverse demographics, together making up the Unrig Bridgeport Coalition. It has registered thousands of new voters and interviewed many more thousands of Bridgeport residents about their most pressing issues. It has returned the political conversation to issues by producing and publishing a platform. And, at times, it has done the work that 501(c)(3)’s across the city cannot: calling out political corruption as a root cause of our democracy problem.

I am proud to financially support the women-led work of Bridgeport Generation Now Votes. And I remain committed to finding new ways for Connecticut’s wealthy to do our part in closing our state’s gaping disparities in race, class, and power. I’ve put my money not just where my mouth is, but where my heart is. Unlike Joe Ganim and others like him, I am honored to be part of a social movement that’s about power with — returning collective power to the people of Bridgeport. I invite all people who share my privileges to join me in doing the same. 

Niels Heilmann is the Treasurer of Bridgeport Generation Now Votes and a former portfolio manager of Elion Investments, an investment firm that focused on the health care sector. A version of this op-ed ran in The Connecticut Post on July 13, 2023.