After George Floyd’s murder, Boston groups pledged $1 billion toward equity causes. Where did it go?

But five years later, it’s difficult to discern what all that money bought. Anecdotally, those in Greater Boston on both the giving and receiving end agree the energy for social change has waned. People moved on — and took their money with them.

“That’s part of the problem that we see in philanthropy over time,” said Shanique Rodriguez, executive director of the Massachusetts Voter Table, a nonprofit coalition of more than 40 advocacy groups. “It’s whatever is popular, whatever is urgent, whatever fire is happening right now that we see philanthropy put its energy behind.”

In just four months, the Trump administration has rattled the landscape for such initiatives. The White House has targeted diversity, equity, and inclusion — and anyone who supports those initiatives. The chilling effect has hit donors and nonprofits alike, with some rescinding dollars and others scrubbing their programs of DEI-related language, while a select few approach the threat head-on.

Some nonprofit leaders worry philanthropic support for equity is dwindling at a crucial moment: The Trump administration is cutting all manner of federal funds, groups committed to racial justice face retaliation, and Republicans are floating laws that could strip “terrorist supporting organizations” of tax-exempt status.

The apparent retreat is a turnaround from the proclamations made in the wake of Floyd’s murder, when powerful Boston-based brands, foundations, and universities promised to do better, and funded different causes. The Globe reviewed 25 pledges from roughly 20 local institutions made in the year after Floyd’s death. Of those, 60 percent were grants. A select few promised pro bono services or workplace initiatives in lieu of money. Roughly one in 10 were made as investments — meaning the result also ended up benefiting the donor’s bottom line.

Bain Capital promised $100 million over a decade to nonprofits. The University of Massachusetts Boston launched the George Floyd Honorary Scholarship Fund, which has grown to just under $175,000. So far, the university has awarded $11,500 in scholarships. Wayfair pledged $30 million in “social impact investing,” with $20 million of that going to the Black Economic Development Fund at the Local Initiatives Support Corporation, a community development financial institution.

All but two of some 20 organizations contacted by the Globe said they had fulfilled or were in the process of fulfilling their promises. Details on how those impacted the Black community, or even which programs received their money, varied.

One organization shared its receipts. Most provided itemized lists of grant amounts. But web pages announcing some of those promises for racial justice are now unavailable.

A Bain Capital spokesperson said the company surpassed its 10-year, $100 million commitment ahead of schedule, but declined to share by how much. Among its recipients were the NAACP, Year Up, and the GreenLight Fund. A spokesperson for the Local Initiatives Support Corporation, or LISC, confirmed Wayfair’s investment, but said it couldn’t provide details out of “fiduciary responsibility” to investors.

The tax forms that nonprofits file with the IRS provide some insights into how some are spending and receiving funds.

For private entities such as banks, firms, and agencies, there’s no law mandating they make their numbers public. Instead, information is largely available from press releases, annual reports, and some tax forms.

With the Trump administration stripping funds from groups that don’t follow the White House’s current ideology, advocates argue, the need for charitable giving to grass-roots organizations is more necessary.

A MassINC survey of more than 500 nonprofit members in Massachusetts earlier this year found nearly six in 10 respondents had received federal funds. The survey, commissioned by the Boston Foundation and the Massachusetts Nonprofit Network, showed 90 percent of respondents expected those dollars would decrease. That unfolds as the Trump administration is proposing cuts to government programs such as SNAP and Medicaid. Those cuts would likely push more people to seek help from nonprofits: of the 500 surveyed, two-thirds anticipated demand for their services will grow, and the number is higher among those that work with immigrants, people of color, and incarcerated people.

Advocates worry the drop in federal dollars creates a feedback loop. More people will flock to nonprofits for help, and more nonprofits will turn to philanthropists for grants. But when the philanthropic pie runs out, where will the community go?

“There’s not really an answer,” said Stacey Borden, executive director of Dorchester-based New Beginnings Reentry Services. “I just have to keep the faith.”

Philanthropies are responding by offering more of their donations as unrestricted funds, providing more grant money upfront, and offering consultant support. As Bob Rivers, executive chair of Eastern Bank, put it, “Many foundations are shifting our mindset away from transformation to preservation.”

Donors aren’t starting from scratch. Massachusetts has a sizable giving economy, with at least $4.7 billion in donations reported in 2017, according to Philanthropy Massachusetts‘s 2020 report on statewide giving, the most recently available reliable data.

In some local circles, funders are preparing to compensate for the gaps created by cuts to federal funding. Some organizations focused on racial equity say they have seen support grow in some cases.

Lee Pelton, chief executive of the Boston Foundation, said his organization is on track for another record year in donations.

“It’s hard to sustain the momentum of anything from five years ago,” Pelton said. But “that sense of urgency has been renewed since the federal regime has taken office.”

Marquis Victor, executive director of Elevated Thought, a nonprofit in Lawrence that provides creative outlets to artists of color, said the organization has had “rapid growth” over the past few years. It’s building out a new space and several programs have reached their two-, three-, and four-year marks without fear of discontinuing.

Elevated Thought doesn’t receive federal funds, but Victor anticipates Trump‘s attacks on DEI might indirectly affect the nonprofit’s operations. Funders might avoid supporting its work to protect themselves from attacks.

Still, Victor is steadfast. “It’s a natural occurrence to tweak your mission to make it more accessible, but not at the sake of changing who you are, the work that you do.”

Even if the collective energy toward racial justice has dimmed some, some changes to philanthropy have survived, several leaders told the Globe. Some foundations now give nonprofits more money at the front end of a multiyear commitment, or immediate grants to cover overhead. There are fewer applications and progress reports to fill out. And more funders are adapting their systems to meet the ever-changing needs of the organizations they support.

The New Commonwealth Fund, formed by Black and Latino business leaders in response to the racial unrest of 2020, has tweaked the type of social causes it supports to better reflect the range of groups addressing equity.

Makeeba McCreary, its CEO, said the changes were driven by its deep relationships. To date, the fund has raised over $40 million and provided roughly $17 million in grants.

Nonprofits will say, “‘We feel safe, we feel seen, we know that you’re not going away,’“ McCreary said. For the New Commonwealth Fund, justice ”is not the flavor of the week.”

Nevertheless, McCreary said donors, especially corporations, are still struggling to adjust their methods to better address racial equity. Too few are diversifying their boards, restructuring staff and resources to meet nonprofit needs, or pledging multiyear commitments and lump sums together. Some conversations about racial justice are now whispered behind closed doors.

It’s similar to the bystander effect, McCreary said. “Unless you tell folks who are doing the harm to stop, you’re part of the problem.”

Vince Dixon, formerly of the Globe staff, contributed to this report.

Tiana Woodard can be reached at tiana.woodard@globe.com. Follow her @tianarochon.