While they aren't synonymous—although there is some overlap between the two categories—community development financial institutions and minority depository institutions have common roots in a shared historical purpose. “The roots of the CDFI banking sector began with the minority depository institutions,” says Jeannine Jacokes, chief executive of the Community Development Bankers Association. “In the early 20th century, when it was legal to refuse service to a customer on the basis of race, Black business people began organizing financial institutions that were Black-owned and committed to serving Black customers—and as populations of other communities of color grew, the diversity of the minority depository institutions grew as well.” Southern Bancorp and Bank of Anguilla are mentioned. 

For people who need emergency money quickly, payday lenders have long been among the few available options. They are ubiquitous in the U.S., with an estimated 13,700 storefronts in 2018, many in low-income and Black communities. Although 18 states and Washington, D.C., have strong interest rate caps on payday lending, in others some lenders charge annual interest rates that surpass 600 percent. But in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic and the inequalities it exposed and exacerbated, there is a renewed focus on the need to counter payday lenders by bringing better, fairer banking services—personal loans, but also mortgages and small business loans—to the primarily low-income people who have long had difficulty accessing them. The federal government as well as corporations and at least one bold name philanthropist are injecting money into Community Development Financial Institutions (CDFIs), financial service providers whose mission is to bring financial services to low-income communities and people within rural, urban, and Native communities—the places many traditional banks have largely excluded. The game-changing infusion amounts to billions of dollars’ worth of investment.

The California State Assembly recently voted to approve a plan to create a state-branded bank account that would be offered to all Californians regardless of income, wealth, race or ethnicity, or immigration status. Dubbed the “BankCal” program, the accounts would come with a debit card, no fees, no overdraft, no minimum balances, direct deposit and other perks. The program would contract with private banks and credit unions to actually hold the deposits and facilitate transactions, but the state would set the terms and serve as the public face for BankCal. Banking industry organizations oppose the bill. They argue the state shouldn’t get into the “very complex business of banking,” even though AB 1177 proposes that the state partner with existing private financial institutions — not exactly “getting into” banking in the purest sense. 

Casey Christopher is a "CEO," but not the one you're familiar with. As "chief empowerment officer" at Manhattan-based Quontic Bank, she has a unique role in catalyzing innovation from the bottom up. As a community development financial institution, Quontic also has an express mission of reaching underserved market segments—for example, constructing credit products that work well for gig economy workers and immigrants whose finances may not fit standard underwriting models. This kind of financial empowerment translates into employee empowerment too—it calls on a whole team to feel ownership and empowered to introduce new ideas. That’s where Christopher comes in. Christopher leads empowerment through Quontic Bank’s core values: “say cheese” (smile and be positive); “try it on” (be adaptive and open to new ideas), “know the goal” and “progress, not perfection.”