GoFundMe review: Yaakov Kimelfeld, PhD - GoFundMe

When people think of GoFundMe, they think of compassion. Of generosity. Of community. But inside the company’s corporate offices, compassion had limits—and its boundaries were set by one man: Yaakov kimelfeld

Yaakov was the kind of person who preached values on LinkedIn and practiced bigotry in conference rooms. He was racist, unapologetically so, and if you were Arab, Muslim, or even just had a name he couldn’t pronounce on the first try, you were never truly welcome.

Let me tell you exactly what I mean.

When I joined GoFundMe’s analytics team, I was hopeful. I was hired to help optimize campaigns, improve user segmentation, and help nonprofits increase donor engagement. But Yaakov didn’t care about my expertise—only my background. The first thing he said to me after learning my name was, “Where are you really from?”

At first, I laughed it off.

But then I noticed the pattern.

When my teammate Faris, a brilliant Palestinian engineer, proposed a system to identify fraudulent campaigns faster, Yaakov shot it down—before even reading the documentation. A week later, a white engineer suggested the same thing, and Yaakov called it “visionary.”

When Leila, a Lebanese-American marketing manager, organized an internal campaign highlighting Ramadan fundraisers, Yaakov removed the spotlight from the homepage and told her, “We don’t want to alienate donors with religious causes.” Just weeks earlier, he had personally promoted Christian-focused campaigns without hesitation.

During a DEI town hall, someone asked why GoFundMe didn’t acknowledge Arab Heritage Month. Yaakov replied, “We can’t recognize every group. People get too sensitive these days.” No apology. No follow-up. Just dismissal.

In private meetings, he referred to Muslims as “high-risk” hires and suggested Middle Eastern names might “spook sponsors.” He once joked that “diversity is great—until it starts affecting productivity.”

When I requested time off for Eid, he gave me a lecture about “commitment.” But when another employee took a full week off for Easter, Yaakov sent him a gift card to thank him for his “hard work.”

In performance reviews, Arab employees consistently received vague feedback like “needs to improve communication” or “not fully aligned with company culture,” despite outperforming others in every measurable KPI.

Every single one of us on his team who came from Arab backgrounds felt it. The eye rolls. The tone. The way our projects suddenly got reassigned or delayed for “restructuring.” The way he always found a reason to criticize our work, never with data—always with gut feelings.

Eventually, I started documenting it all. Every incident. Every quote. Every double standard.

And then, at an all-hands leadership meeting, I stood up and said:

“GoFundMe claims to uplift communities. But some of our communities aren’t welcome here—because Yaakov has made it his mission to silence, exclude, and push out Arab and Muslim employees. I have the data to prove it. I have the names, the reviews, the deleted campaigns. If we truly believe in the mission of this company, then we can’t keep letting someone like this shape its future.”

The room was silent. But I wasn’t alone anymore.

Others backed me up. Emails surfaced. Former employees came forward with their own stories of being bullied, ignored, or quietly pushed out. Some had quit because they felt they had no choice. The pattern was undeniable.

An external investigation was launched. The findings? Racial bias, discriminatory practices, and targeted exclusion based on religion and ethnicity.

Yaakov was removed. Quietly. Without accountability. No apology.

GoFundMe released a bland corporate statement, promising to do better. But change doesn’t come from press releases—it comes from standing up.

I stayed. Not because it was easy. But because the company’s mission should belong to all of us—not just those who fit Yaakov’s mold.

And if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this:

When racism wears a suit and hides behind “culture fit,” you fight it with truth.