By Abigail Oduol, CCF Movement Coordinator

This is about superheroes, but more than that, it’s about how we judge changing, redemption, and accountability in our real-world institutions.

This piece contains spoilers. The writer acknowledges that Disney+ is currently on the BDS list, and does not encourage readers to break the boycott. Reading this piece is a substitute for watching the movie. 

Hi. It’s me again. Resident fundraising nerd and superhero IP lover. If you haven’t been keeping up with Marvel, it’s okay, you don’t have to be up-to-date to enjoy the lessons. We’re in our Sam Wilson Captain America era (played by Anthony Mackie). Marvel did an excellent series as a lead in, embracing the tensions of being a Black man wrapped in the American flag. 

Let’s recap the story, explore why believing in change is hard, and unpack what it means for us in nonprofit fundraising. 

This is about superheroes, but more than that, it’s about how we judge changing, redemption, and accountability in our real-world institutions. 

Brave New World: A Complicated Villain

In this movie, Captain America uncovers a government plot. The central antagonist? The President of the United States, Thaddeus Ross (more on Ross here for the lore). 

Ross has held super-powered statistician Samuel Sterns/the Leader in a black site for 16 years, promising exoneration in exchange for one more favor. President Ross’s love of power, control, and certainty prevent him from doing the right thing. When it’s clear Ross doesn’t intend to keep his word, the Leader hatches an elaborate plan to escape. 

A part of this elaborate plan is microdosing Ross with gamma radiation without his knowledge. 

Meanwhile, President Ross has a poor relationship with his estranged daughter because of his mishandling of the Hulk in the past. He leaves her voicemails about how much he’s changed. 

Eventually, he’s battling his own demons literally and figuratively as he transforms into the Red Hulk. Destruction and heavy CGI ensue until Sam Wilson gives him a lullaby.

At the end of the movie, President Ross steps down from power. He gets a peace treaty named after him. He gets to see his daughter, who he hasn’t seen in years. 

All of this is framed as a redemption arc, to be admired: a world leader who has made personal mistakes with public outcomes accepting responsibility and making right choices. But has he changed? 

I bet you’re saying “no.” 

Why We Struggle to Believe In Change

From real-life villains seeking redemption for their past misdeeds, from transgender care to the reintegration of formerly incarcerated individuals, we resist believing people can change. When people do in fact change – when they’ve been through a process we have only seen some of – we don’t believe them. Maybe we’ve been burned before, hurt by people saying they’ve changed, but who haven’t done the work that real change requires. Maybe we liberally apply our traumatic experiences as context, projecting those experiences on to others trying to change. We want people to suffer visibly, and then we cast our vote in the court of public opinion as to whether their change is “real.” 

Here’s an example from the nonprofit industrial complex: Behaviorally-based work interviews are a part of how most of us hire. We look at past behavior as the best indicator of future behavior. It also means that we assume that how you’ve been is how you’ll always be. 

That means no one gets a redemption arc. You’re either already where you need to be or you aren’t. There’s no room for growth, only judgment.

But We Love A Glow Up

Despite our skepticism, we love stories of change. 

The stories that we tell in songs, books, and other media are all about the human drama of change and transformation. We want stories of people being in a new situation, getting a new skill set or powers, or changing from a normie into a hero. We want to hear about someone turning into an underworld boss, a cop becoming a beauty queen, or moving from a desk job to become a super spy. 

The best stories show us why the change happened. The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TV series) did this well. It begins with Sam Wilson unsure if he wants to become Captain America because he feels unworthy and is aware of what it means to follow a white man in a job he did well. He returns the shield to the US Government, and they promptly choose a blonde-haired, blue-eyed replacement. As he experiences racism from the systems he encounters and bias from the people around him, relationships with others like his sister, Bucky, and the first Black super soldier, he gradually accepts the hero’s call and forms his own reasons for becoming Captain America.

But in this particular Captain America story, Ross’ change feels like a sugar rush with little substance. One moment, one piece of evidence in an arc isn’t enough and feels incomplete. 

Implications for Fundraising and Nonprofits

We have ideas on how these things look interpersonally. Some people live by “once a ____ always a ____.” Others lean in to opportunities for redemption and believing in growth. Some may even err in offering too cheap a version of unity at times, or absolving people too quickly. 

What does that mean in fundraising and nonprofits? What are things we should consider in order to manage the idea that people and the institutions they are in might change for the better?

Create a gift acceptance policy.

In your institution, ask, “Do we want your money? What does it mean if we take your money? What if you have a heel turn? Do we still want your money?” 

Instead of binary acceptances and rejections, consider what it means to have a conversation about the money on the table first. What does giving the opportunity to change and to grow into a new person or institution look like? Is the institution in question systemically problematic? Who in your organization is best positioned to evaluate this? 

Most changes can best be discerned by those who are in community with the institution and clear eyed about what is happening internally and the culture. Who is their community? What do they know? How have they experienced this growth story?

Create a fundraiser rights document and maybe a donor expectations agreement.

How are you letting supporters know what they can expect from you when such a situation arises? Just like interpersonal interactions, how important are safety and distance relative to proximity? Are you the right organization or person to help that donor or institution grow? Are you in a relationship with them that you can tell them the truth? Are you a part of their community? 

That is very different from being someone from outside the orbit and being a critical onlooker with no direct power to affect change. How close do you need to be to speak into the situation in a way that will be heard? 

Are you getting so much out of your proximity to a donor or institution that you individually or as an institution don’t actually tell them the truth and only bask in their glow? Do you love the microphone opportunities so much that you won’t speak into it to say what’s necessary? Are you providing people and entities absolution from their ethnocentrism, transphobia, etc. too quickly rather than allowing them the chance to sit in their apology or feelings and learn from it? 

What does your proximity to these institutions and individuals and the harm they’ve caused to others signal to your community? Will they believe those institutions are safe because you work with them? Consider if your proximity is signaling legitimacy, inadvertently providing cover for ongoing harm.

Accountability Starts With Me

Be aggressive in personal examination and motives, and be kind when examining others.

Don’t read this and send it to your partner, spouse, adult child, or someone in the CCF community who has highlighted your problematic behaviors. Take a moment and sit with it. Be aggressive in personal examination and motives, and be kind when examining others. 

Instead of viewing yourself as the hero of every story and reinterpreting your choices through your own motives (like the Brave New World movie does with Red Hulk), take ownership of the impact your choices have had on others. When others make choices that you disagree with, acknowledge their agency and provide the understanding that you would request for others to have of you.

Like Captain America said, “I know what it’s like feelin’ like you have something to prove. When everyone only sees one thing. Showing there is more to you, it’s not about when times are easy. It’s about moments like this.” The proof of change is how someone has responded to things that are hard, decisions where doing the wrong thing might be easier or more convenient. 

Institutions can change, but not without accountability. Institutions are just organized groups of people. Maybe just like you’re growing and changing, they might be too. But that doesn’t mean they get to Hulk-smash the city and hide people in black sites on the way to their redemptive arc. 

Change must be earned, examined and held accountable.