CommunityCentricFundraising, Author at CCF

The unbearable hypocrisy: Fundraising in a world of compromised integrity

Sep 9, 2024 | Essays, The Hub

By Maria Rio, tired in-house DoD turned Consultant

Divestment from practices and structures that perpetuate harm is a necessary step towards fostering belonging and ensuring that all employees can thrive.

Being a fundraiser dedicated to aligning money with mission is a relentless battle.

I am tired of organizations claiming to stand for justice while accepting money from those who perpetuate the very injustices we fight against.

These organizations have detailed statements about their values, citing their commitment to social justice in the media, annual reports, and anywhere else they can possibly get attention for it. But when it comes to funding, these principles are easily compromised and often completely abandoned. The dissonance between what we preach and where our funding comes from is not just frustrating—it’s infuriating.

The irony is that while we fight for systemic change, we are often trapped in systems that resist it. We face the same old excuses: “We need the money,” “We can’t afford to be picky,” and “The end justifies the means.” But does it? At what point do we draw the line and say enough is enough?

The mental and emotional labor, the pressure to meet fundraising goals, and the personal cost of fighting for ethical standards cannot be understated. For BIPOC, this burnout is compounded by systemic issues within many organizations: lack of HR support, performative allyship, and tokenism. These ongoing challenges not only affect the immediate work environment but also have long-term implications on the mental wellbeing of BIPOC employees.

This is why divestment is crucial.

By reallocating resources towards creating genuinely supportive, inclusive, and equitable work environments, organizations can help mitigate the mental and emotional toll on BIPOC staff. Divestment from practices and structures that perpetuate harm is a necessary step towards fostering belonging and ensuring that all employees can thrive.

Why We Demand Divestment

When we demand divestment from problematic funders, it’s because we understand what integrity truly means—maintaining consistency between our values and actions, between our organizational persona and our operations. If we expect companies and universities to divest from unethical sources, why should nonprofits be any different?

Here are seven reasons why divestment is crucial:

1. Aligning Money with Mission: Accepting money from sources that contradict our mission of collective liberation is hypocritical, undermines our credibility, and breaches trust. It’s a personal affront to those of us who pour our hearts into this work. It turns fundraisers into performers of empathy rather than genuine activists. Divestment ensures that every dollar supports, rather than contradicts, our mission.

2. Avoiding Complicity: Accepting funds from unethical sources makes organizations complicit in the harm those funders cause. This financial relationship provides these companies with a veneer of respectability and a shield against criticism. Divestment sends a clear message: we will not be used as a tool to launder your reputation.

3. Upholding Values and Integrity: Values must guide actions including financial decisions. Refusing to divest signals that our values are flexible, negotiable, and ultimately for sale. Our integrity should not be for sale to the highest bidder. Divestment stands for unwavering integrity.

4. Building Trust: Donors, volunteers, and service users are paying attention. They want to know if the organizations they support are true to their word. Trust is built on consistency between stated values and actions. Divesting from problematic funders demonstrates a commitment to ethical principles, building deeper trust and stronger community ties.

5. Encouraging Ethical Business Practices: Demanding divestment puts pressure on companies to change their ways. When organizations refuse to accept tainted money, funders are forced to reconsider their practices. This ripple effect can lead to broader industry changes, encouraging more ethical and sustainable business practices.

6. Avoiding Long-Term Repercussions: Short-term financial gains from unethical sources can lead to long-term damage. Organizations that fail to divest risk their reputations and the trust they’ve built with their communities. The costs of such damage far outweigh any immediate financial benefit.

7. Standing in Solidarity: Divestment is a powerful act of solidarity with affected communities. It’s about standing with those harmed by the practices of unethical funders and saying, “We see you, and we will not stand with those who harm you.” This solidarity strengthens the moral fabric of the organization and aligns it more closely with the communities it aims to serve.

Divestment says the quiet part out loud, rejects complicity in harm, and stands shoulder-to-shoulder with affected communities. By aligning every dollar with our collective mission, nonprofits can ensure that their actions reflect stated values, leading to a more profound and authentic impact.

It’s past time to walk the walk, not just talk the talk.

Refuting Common Justifications

Diversifying income streams and finding mission-aligned funding alternatives is not just possible—it’s necessary.

“We need the money.” Yes, fundraising is crucial for any organization. But if the cost is our integrity, then the price is too high. Money that undermines our mission does more harm than good. It’s a short-term fix that leads to long-term damage, eroding trust and credibility.

Consider the fallout from Me to We’s acceptance of funds from Unilever. Amnesty International revealed that Unilever, among other global brands, was profiting from child and forced labor in its palm oil supply chains. This clashed with Me to We’s mission of supporting communities, specifically children, through ethical consumerism and social change. The resulting backlash damaged their reputation and trust among supporters, illustrating the severe consequences of aligning with funders whose practices contradict the organization’s values.

In contrast, Ben & Jerry’s decision to end sales of their ice cream in the Occupied Palestinian Territory demonstrates the power of standing by one’s values. Despite potential financial repercussions or backlash, the company chose to act in accordance with its stated commitment to social justice. This decision displays their integrity, earning respect and admiration. Side note: it always upsets me that an ice cream vendor has a stronger commitment to their morals than most nonprofits.

“We can’t afford to be picky.” This is a false dichotomy. We can and should be selective about our funding sources. Diversifying income streams and finding mission-aligned funding alternatives is not just possible—it’s necessary. It may require more effort and creativity, but it’s worth it to maintain our integrity.

While working in the food banking space, I have seen organizations that refuse to take food or funds from predatory payday loan businesses, police forces, nuclear plants, and more. We also turned down nonsense gifts (like 50 single mismatched socks) that did not align with the values of dignified service provision.

Alternatively, I have also seen organizations heavily rely on food and funds from businesses not aligned with their stated values, such as Amazon and Walmart. In the end, these organizations put their brand on the line, and their staff feel misaligned with the funding sources.

Recently, nonprofits have been debating whether to accept funds from grantors with anti-advocacy clauses. “If anyone on your team posts publicly about supporting Palestine…if these funds are used to benefit a specific racial group…”

If nonprofits take all gifts with little to no intentionality, our collective mission of social justice is compromised. We can’t afford not to be picky.

“The end justifies the means.” This is the most dangerous fallacy. When we accept money from sources that contradict our values, we compromise the very principles we stand for. True change cannot be achieved through hypocrisy. We must embody the change we advocate for, starting with our funding sources.

The part that irks me most about this argument is that usually, the funds were generated by white people off of the backs of BIPOC communities. These funds are then given to white-led organizations that tell themselves, “Well, at least I can use the funds to help BIPOC people—it all works out!”

However, if that is the case, why not direct the funder to a BIPOC-led organization for it to decide if that is the best use of funds? If the intention is to bolster the community of service users, it is nonsensical to take the agency of choice away from them and their communities.

It is paternalistic as hell for a white-led organization to operate this way. You don’t decide what justifies the means because you don’t decide what health and wealth look like for our communities.

“All money is dirty anyway.” The argument that “all money is dirty” implies that because every dollar has, in some way, been tainted by unethical practices, it is acceptable to take funding from any source. This view dismisses the importance of ethical considerations in fundraising and is completely antithetical to the principles of CCF.

While it is true that money circulates through various channels and may have (in)direct links to unethical practices, actively choosing to accept funds from known harmful sources is a different matter altogether.

Let me give you an example. Let’s say you have a good friend who you set up with someone who turns out to be an abuser—not your fault. But if you set up that good friend with someone you know is an abuser, even if they have other “redeeming” qualities (like wealth, connections, access to opportunities, etc)—definitely your fault. In this case, the community is your good friend, and you are the gatekeeper deciding who gets closer (physically and metaphorically) to the community. You play a large role in deciding who gets invited into the community, and must responsibly balance raising funds with the best interests, safety, and will of those most impacted by injustice.

Look, I am not 100% against taking dirty money, but I am 100% against doing so without any donor education, talks of reparations, or significant action by the injuring party. I am also against it when the organization, its governance, and its operations are not reflective of the impacted community.

A Call to Action

Demanding divestment is a bold stand for integrity, accountability, and true change. It’s a call to ensure that every dollar supports the mission, that values are upheld without compromise, and that organizations build lasting trust with their community.

Here are ways to get started:

Conduct a Funding Audit:

Review all current funding sources and identify any that conflict with your organization’s mission and values.
Evaluate the ethical implications of each funding source, considering their origins and the business practices of the donors.

Engage the Community:

Involve staff, board members, partners, service users, and volunteers in discussions about ethical fundraising.
Gather input and build consensus on what ethical funding means for your organization.

Communicate your commitment to ethical funding to your donors.
Provide donors with information about why certain funds are being rejected and the importance of mission-aligned donations.

Develop a Gift Acceptance Policy:

Create a clear policy outlining the types of donations your organization will and will not accept.
Ensure the policy reflects your organization’s values and is communicated to all stakeholders.

Seek Alternative Funding Sources:

Diversify your funding streams to reduce reliance on any single source, especially those with ethical concerns.
Explore grants, individual donations, corporate partnerships, and fundraising events that align with your values.

Focus on Ethical Partnerships:

Collaborate with organizations and businesses that share your commitment to ethical practices.
Build partnerships that reinforce your mission and enhance your impact.

Join or form coalitions with other nonprofits committed to ethical fundraising.
Advocate for industry-wide standards and practices that promote integrity and accountability.

Lead by Example:

Set a standard for ethical fundraising in the nonprofit sector.
Share your experiences and best practices with other organizations to inspire widespread change.
Continuously monitor the ethical implications of your funding sources.
Regularly evaluate the effectiveness of your gift acceptance policy and make adjustments as needed.

Real change starts with the courage to say “no” to compromised integrity and “yes” to ethical, mission-aligned funding.

If we expect it from companies and universities, we must demand it from nonprofits, too. If we ask donors to put their money where their mouth is, we should, too. Only then can we truly make a difference and inspire genuine, lasting change.

Maria Rio

Maria Rio (she/her) has over a decade of fundraising experience. Arriving in Canada as a refugee, her lived experience inspired a deep commitment to human rights and community advocacy. Maria is the founder of Further Together, has been featured in national publications, and serves on the Board of Living Wage Canada. Follow her on LinkedIn.

A note to the capitalists in America

Sep 2, 2024 | Essays, The Hub

By A. Chowdhury, MSW student at the University of Houston who has a deep conviction in the principles of equality, social justice, and advocacy for people’s rights

By prioritizing equity in fundraising efforts, organizers can ensure that these communities receive the necessary support, helping to bridge the resource gap and promote fairness. Aligning fundraising efforts with the organization’s mission and values will help to ensure that the organization’s actions are consistent with its principles during fundraising.

Dear Capitalists in America,

The relationship between nonprofit fundraising, social justice, and advocating is complex and contentious in our current social environment.

My view on this friction arose when I witnessed a heated discussion at a recent annual fundraising event about how far capitalists will go to satisfy their self-righteous desires–even pushing non-profit organizations to exploit recipients’ storytelling.

That discussion highlighted the lengths capitalists, like yourself, will demand fundraisers go to, prioritizing profit over integrity.

You leverage people’s stories for personal and financial gain, primarily when representing marginalized communities.

If you, as a capitalist, are reading this, you may be tempted to label me “ungrateful” or even suggest ceasing your “philanthropic” efforts. However, I urge you to consider the historical context of wealth and its distribution in America.

And, not to rain on your parade, but how much of it is yours? The property you hold so near and dearly!

For all individuals, regardless of their capitalist identity, I encourage you to look beyond personal interests and consider the more significant implications of your actions on social justice and equity. By doing so, you can contribute to building a more just and equitable society for all.

This emphasis on collective responsibility promotes a more inclusive approach to addressing social issues.

My journey through poverty, involvement with social justice issues through the Master of Social Work (MSW) program, and my recent nonprofit experience have all given me a unique perspective. They have shown me how societal structures can continue to exploit, tokenize, and marginalize people in poverty.

For example, consider this scenario: a prominent nonprofit organization hosted an annual fundraising event. At this event, a significant number of donors represented the dominant class. To create an impactful narrative, the host presented a woman of color, stating, “Your donation not only helped us, but we helped her – not only once, but the entire year during Hurricane Harvey!”

Showcasing one person of color as a token – speaking for her and using her as a prop – is problematic on many levels between the power dynamics, monetary exchange, and societal degradation. These practices call for a change that respects individual dignity and promotes equity.

My experience of poverty, involvement with social justice issues through the MSW program, and recent nonprofit experience demonstrated to me how societal structures continue to exploit, tokenize, and marginalize people in poverty. And these experiences have shaped my understanding and fueled my passion for advocating for a more just and equitable society.

Let’s dive into the example of this woman of color at the event even more deeply.

Karl Marx introduced us all to the theory of exploitation. He described exploitation as the theft of economic power in all class-based societies by forcing the working or exploited class to sell their labor for meager wages. When capitalists control resources, such as factories, they often exploit workers. Workers are paid less than the value of goods or services they produce. In recent years, Marx’s theories regarding exploitation may seem flawed, but applying the concept of ‘re-fixing’ to specific stories can help us understand the general definition of exploitation.

Jonathan Wolf explains that using the concept of re-fixing helps us understand exploitation as broader than Marx’s theory of exploitation. We modify the actual definition to fit a specific circumstance in real-life examples. In our example of women of color being showcased in a fundraising event, “re-fixing” could involve expanding the concept of exploitation to her race or gender being used to raise funds. She was presented to appeal to donors to gain sympathy and raise more funds without concern for diminishing her self-dignity.

It should anger people when capitalists use tokenism to benefit their self-righteous purposes at the expense of marginalized people. This reveals societal inequality, as narratives are crafted solely to serve the dominant interest. Additionally, using marginalized people’s presence to promote diversity undermines inclusivity and diversity.

This brings us to my final point about learning to act more humanely. Many people use ethics subjectively when it benefits them or helps them advance their agenda. In our scenario, one person’s storytelling generates thousands of dollars, which must provide more assistance to marginalized people. But if the evidence shows we are raising these funds by showing only one person of color, and when it comes to redistribution, we put that money elsewhere, then I beg to differ.

The question before us is, where do we go from here? Do we simply hope for the best and assume that our fundraising practices will improve over time? This approach is passive and unlikely to result in meaningful change. However, by proactively addressing issues of tokenism and implementing policies that genuinely celebrate diversity, organizations can pave the way for a more inclusive future.

One step is actively involving marginalized individuals in the conversation, seeking their feedback on improving existing fundraising activities. This engagement can help identify areas where tokenism may exist and develop strategies to eliminate it. By empowering individuals from all backgrounds during the fundraising process, organizations can create a more inclusive and equitable environment that respects diversity and leverages it as a strength. This approach cultivates genuine inclusivity and helps ensure that all voices are heard and valued.

Solutions like this are why I started to appreciate many of the Community-Centric Fundraising values. But, if I were to pick one, what stands out to me the most is how fundraising should be grounded in race, equity, and social justice.

When fundraising practices include race, equity, and social justice, they can address systemic inequalities in resource distribution. History has shown that marginalized communities often have less access to resources, and the ability to access them worsens during crises like the pandemic.

By prioritizing equity in fundraising efforts, organizers can ensure that these communities receive the necessary support, helping to bridge the resource gap and promote fairness. Aligning fundraising efforts with the organization’s mission and values will help to ensure that the organization’s actions are consistent with its principles during fundraising.

So, when you start your fall or winter fundraising, empower yourself to discuss the wealth gap disparities and consider how you tell your organizational story. This is a crucial step in our journey towards a more equitable society, and your role in this discussion is of utmost importance.

Capitalists in America: please examine whether your organizations are engaging in tokenism. Consider your organization’s potential negative impact on racialized people, equity, and social justice during fundraising efforts. Remaining silent on this issue can be seen as an endorsement of such practices.

Capitalists in America: actively verify the organization’s financials to ensure that funds are distributed equitably rather than just highlighting one racial identity for appearances. Participate in the event-organizing process to ensure marginalized individuals have a voice in shaping fundraising events, empowering these communities, and preserving their dignity.

Sincerely,

Asif Chowdhury

A. Chowdhury

A. Chowdhury (he/him). Mr. Chowdhury is deeply committed to the principles of equality, social justice, and advocacy for people’s rights! He earned his Bachelor’s degree with a 3.5 GPA and interned at Harris County Probate Court 3. His dedication lies in advocating for adults with mental health challenges and supporting their families and communities, aiming to improve the lives of this underserved group. He is pursuing a Master of Social Work (MSW) with a Macro concentration at the University of Houston at the Graduate College of Social Work (GCSW), maintaining a 3.7 GPA in his second year. You can follow A. Chowdhury on X at @UnitedOfHistory

I want to express my profound gratitude to Dr. Joshua Wilkey for his invaluable guidance on exploitation. I also thank Michelle Flores Vryn, MSW student A.S., and others who provided valuable insights during the initial consultation stages.

You’re not feeling imposter syndrome, you are an imposter: Identity and belonging in nonprofit work

Aug 26, 2024 | Essays, The Hub

By Esther Saehyun Lee, Community-Centric Fundraising Global Council Member, Self-Proclaimed Imposter, and Consultant

Why did hearing someone say, “You were right; you are an imposter,” invoke calm instead of panic? I’d always thought that it would unmask me as the fraud I always feared I was.

The title of this essay comes from a TikTok by Shahem Mclaurin. Their reclaiming of “imposter syndrome” was revelatory and inspired me to share their perspective with you.

(I’m not going to talk about imposter syndrome or its effects because, chances are, if you’re reading this, you’ve probably felt this deeply. You don’t need me to detail the symptoms; chances are you’re feeling it right now just from reading the first half of this title.)

For me, hearing this therapist say the words, “You are not feeling imposter syndrome, you are an imposter,” felt like my worst fears being articulated. I thought it would confirm my worst fears and the tape running in my head continually telling me, “I do not belong.”

I thought that my anxiety, the sense of feeling always a little bit othered, of being excluded, of always feeling that I don’t quite belong, would start ringing louder. But instead, I felt calm.

In fact, I felt liberated.

Then I felt curious.

Why did hearing someone say, “You were right; you are an imposter,” invoke calm instead of panic? I’d always thought that it would unmask me as the fraud I always feared I was.

This line of thinking led me to reflect on one of the times in my career when my imposter syndrome felt the most suffocating.

When Imposter Syndrome Strikes in Activist Spaces

You would assume it would come from a more corporate setting, but it actually came about when I joined an organization that was unapologetically feminist. My role, filled with promises of anti-racist and intersectional feminist values, ironically made me question if I was enough: equitable enough, feminist enough, committed enough. Having come from academia, where my imposter syndrome was always about whether I was smart enough, this was new. My imposter syndrome evolved from doubting my intelligence to doubting myself as an activist.

In my role, I encountered amazing feminists and team members committed to fighting violence against women. However, I also met many –usually older unionized staff – whose feminism was only really applicable to white women. Who really made it clear that they didn’t care or want to shift their perspective.

Their racism and their condescension to people of colour were palpable. They were racist to other staff and didn’t care even to be subtle about it. The very first week of my job, a staff member refused to let me into the shelter.

Our shelter had two locked entrances, which required a fob to enter. Sometimes (well, oftentimes), the fob scanner wasn’t functional, and when this was the case, the staff member sitting at the front desk would buzz you in.

During my first week as a coordinator, my fob wasn’t working, so I stood at the door, smiled, and waved to the staff member – an older, white, unionized staff member who’d worked at the shelter for decades – I’ll call her Marie.

She glanced at me and went back to her work.

I tried to brush it off and just knocked on the door. But she simply kept ignoring me.

Eventually, another staff member who witnessed me knocking at the door and the advocate willfully ignoring my presence let me in. We said nothing to each other.

But as we were both women of colour, she gave me a look of deep understanding. We knew what Marie was doing. We’ve had Maries all throughout our lives.

Just from that glance, I felt affirmed in my suspicion.

Marie had intentionally ignored me and prevented me from entering the workspace.

The experience of enduring racist harm and abuse in this sector is not new to me. Witnessing it happen to others is not new to me. And I, unfortunately, as many people of colour do, have a catalogue of experiences of being othered, fetishized, excluded, or condescended to. As an Asian woman, I’m used to being stereotyped as subservient or “a good worker” but never a leader. Someone who’s a hard worker and easy to manage because I hold no strong thoughts of my own.

But I chose this example for a reason.

Physically being excluded from the workspace, actively ignored, and made invisible was a tangible confirmation of what my imposter syndrome had been telling me –that I did not belong. And having this experience in an organization that loudly proclaimed its commitment to advocacy and equity demonstrated an irony prevalent in the nonprofit sector.

“For women of color, self-doubt and the feeling that we don’t belong in corporate workplaces can be even more pronounced — not because women of color (a broad, imprecise categorization) have an innate deficiency but because the intersection of our race and gender often places us in a precarious position at work. Many of us across the world are implicitly, if not explicitly, told we don’t belong in white- and male-dominated workplaces.”

-“Stop telling women they have imposter syndrome”- Ruchika Tulshyan and Jodi-Ann Burey

It was unexpected to have this experience in the nonprofit sector, in a feminist organization staffed by so many women of colour.

Working for an organization that is vocal about its mission and values is so alluring. And its loudest siren call is that “you can be yourself.” It almost lulls you to think that the risk you carry as a woman of colour is erased. That you are now, and truly, “safe.” Safe to be, safe to speak, safe to unmask.

I learned, my first week on the job, that this is false.

And in some ways, I’m grateful that it happened to me so early. This experience of being shut out, erased, and made invisible is such a small drop in the ocean of women of colour’s experiences in the nonprofit sector.

The call for equity-minded fundraisers has become a rote performance, rather than a true commitment to justice

In recent years, the nonprofit sector has been tasked with critical self-reflection to examine how it perpetuates the harms it says it tries to solve. And the call to equity has been one that even the most archaic of institutions, the most powerful, the most resourced, cannot ignore.

McKinsey’s report found that from November 1, 2020, to May 19, 2021, companies across the private and public sectors, including philanthropic institutions, committed nearly $200 billion to increase efforts toward racial justice. More and more, we’re hearing a call for justice and a call to shift our organizational and sector culture to reflect the communities we serve. Increasingly, there have also been demands that organizations and our sector itself address the toxicity and racism that is both systemic and rampant.

And there were some hopeful things to come out of this.

But it’s also started to dilute the work of anti-racism and made light of the scope of racial reckoning, justice, and equity work that is going to be a huge undertaking for this sector.

There have been a lot of empty and performative gestures to signal equity, but they have led to nothing. From internal equity audits (with no third party to hold them accountable), the formation of DEI committees (usually with young POC that are not compensated and are instead exploited for their labour), and the procedural land acknowledgment in all-staff meetings (that prompt no self-reflection or call to action but is a mere rote performance of words on a page). Organizations have also begun seeking fundraisers committed to equity but creating a space that is unequivocally unsafe for them.

How do we proceed?

Instead of asking ourselves if we’re imposters, we should ask ourselves, what systems are we imposters of?

I am an imposter. I don’t belong in the nonprofit sector–as it is. I refuse to subscribe to the underpinning values of white saviorism, colonialism, donor worship, poverty tourism, and overall self-congratulatory air that “we came into this sector to do good.”

This perspective has shifted things for me. Watching this Black therapist talk about “belonging” in an academic setting exposed a truth that hit me like a hammer.

I don’t belong. Not to this sector as it is.

And I’m OK with that.

I am an imposter. I don’t belong in the nonprofit sector–as it is.

I refuse to subscribe to the underpinning values of white saviorism, colonialism, donor worship, poverty tourism, and overall self-congratulatory air that “we came into this sector to do good.”

The narrative that we “do good” in this sector is precisely why we do so much harm. This halo effect has blanketed so much interpersonal and systemic harm it’d be impossible to articulate the lengths and traumas that have affected people in this sector.

I’m an imposter. I’d rather focus on the “why” we solicit money than the goal. I’d rather discuss, at length, the cost and labour of a program instead of creating one so we can flaunt it to foundations for money. I’d rather discuss the merits of a 40-page application for a $5k grant, where we must lie to them that this will have a huge impact on our program.

I’d rather partner with organizations that align with our values than pursue one simply because they have money.

And I’m realizing that, in many ways, this does make me an imposter. It makes me an imposter to a disappearing era of fundraising where money was the ultimate end goal.

I’m part of a generation of fundraisers committed to holding this sector accountable to the values it has always professed. I’m part of a generation where one fundraiser who has experienced racist harm is one fundraiser too many. I’m part of a generation of fundraisers where losing money is not my ultimate fear, but losing my values is.

My understanding of imposter syndrome has expanded and contains multitudes now. Instead of asking whether I belong in a space, I ask myself, “Do I want to be here?”

This reflection is not meant to glamorize imposter syndrome or romanticize it. I couldn’t do that if I tried. Imposter syndrome is debilitating and is the reason this essay took so damn long to write. I’ve simply contextualised my imposter syndrome to systemic issues, not just individual failings.

This sector wasn’t made for people of colour to feel powerful. It was made to disempower us. And the sooner we recognize that, the sooner we can rebuild it. As Shahem Mclaurin says, “Do not gaslight yourself out of this experience cause that’s how we avoid changing these systems and institutions.” I now have clarity of my purpose in this sector.

My purpose is to be an imposter until this sector rebuilds itself into one that truly serves us all.

My name is Esther Saehyun Lee, and I’m an imposter in the nonprofit sector. And I will remain one until our sector is truly grounded in equity and justice.

Esther Saehyun Lee

Esther Saehyun Lee, MA, (she/her) is a Community-Centric fundraiser and Consultant at Elevate Philanthropy Consulting. She is a fundraiser, storyteller, and advocate who works to mobilize resources to communities. In her work and volunteer positions, she challenges and dismantles systems of power in the nonprofit sector to ground its practices towards equity and justice. She’s helped many nonprofits increase their revenue, implement fundraising processes and structures in a CCF lens, and has demonstrated increase in both revenue and donor base.

She is dedicated to advancing the mission of justice in the nonprofit sector and does so in her roles as a Community-Centric Fundraising (CCF) Global Council member and Interim Board Member of Association of Fundraising Professionals Greater Toronto Chapter. She is a movement builder dedicated to making space for people of colour within the nonprofit sector. In addition to these titles, she is an amateur banjo player and cat mom. If you’d like to chat about equity in nonprofit, grab a virtual coffee, or just exchange memes, find her on LinkedIn. If you’d like to work with Esther, book a meeting with her.

Work-life imbalance: I am Black Girl Magic

Aug 19, 2024 | Essays, The Hub

By Abigail Oduol, a Black planned gift fundraiser in California

I don’t want to define myself by what I do, or my performance. I want to instead be. People pursue what my life looks like because capitalism wills us to. It looks like success. Expectations to look like things are working for you are literally chewing people up and spitting them out…

I have a very specific experience:

I’m a Black woman in a cross-cultural marriage.

I am a planned gift fundraiser who travels for conferences and to meet with supporters.

I am a high performer.

At my job, I volunteer to help staff in several ways including a Black staff group, a better workplace committee, and a parenting group.

I have young kids for whom I am the point parent, taking care of meals, sports, school activities, and basic needs. I talk with them about their feelings. I don’t let them watch TV because I don’t have time to help them interpret the messages and racism they are getting from most shows. And I read to them every night, hoping teachers will find it difficult to dismiss their intelligence. I also am trying to teach them a language that I’m not great at so they can relate to their extended family.

I run a small family business managing properties, go to church on Sundays, and try to read and listen to podcasts to broaden how I see the world.

I meet with my therapist to interrogate how I show up for others and myself.

I try to move my body and eat nutritious food.

I speak at conferences and have several volunteer commitments that fulfill personal and professional interests and provide growth opportunities. These activities fill my inspiration bucket and allow me to connect with people in different ways.

People look at these things and say “Wow, what a super woman.” They sigh and say, “Women can have it all. Just try harder, lean in, optimize like Abigail.”

I respond with a smile. They mean well. They’re complimenting me. They think my life is a flex.

Inside, however, I’m in turmoil.

I see myself as an honest person and speaking this truth is difficult. I need to tell you all something that has been churning in my heart for some time now: I am not a super woman or mom. I’m not sure they even exist outside of the comic book universes.

No, it’s not imposter syndrome.

To allow you to believe that I am somehow super, more than or beyond human and that my life should be imitated would be wrong of me. Allowing you to try harder in the belief that you can “have it all” would be irresponsible of me. I feel that I have a duty to other people who are working parents to “tell the truth and shame the devil,” as Granny used to say.

Have you ever heard of those stories of moms lifting cars from their babies to save them because of adrenaline and cortisol working together? But lifting a car off your baby is not exactly something you can do on a regular basis. You can’t make a career out of it. That’s the type of stress that heart attacks are made of.

The truth is that I’m a talented but regular person in a specific set of circumstances that mean I must lift cars off of my family on a regular basis.

I plan well but the parameters of my life and the ways that people interact with my racial and ethnic identity give me little freedom to fail. I’m running on adrenaline and it’s not healthy or sustainable. I don’t plan on doing it forever. My goal is to be a regular person, period, by 2026.

My cholesterol is high even though I don’t eat any of the usual culprits. I don’t wake up early enough to exercise because I can’t seem to get myself to. No matter how much I sleep, it never feels like enough. My kids still interrupt my sleep, but it isn’t their fault. I have been exhausted since 2020.

I experience happiness, joy, and peace that I believe is only by the mercy of God.

I don’t yell at my kids. I am somehow not miserable and am miraculously growing in kindness toward others. People frequently mistake my disposition, spiritual health, and relative success as markers that my life should be imitated. They aren’t. And it shouldn’t.

When you say that I’m a super mom or super woman I hear you saying that I’m something different than human. That my humanity and the struggle that my life entails do not really exist. It feels like a pedestal and a dangerous one. I can’t afford to define myself this way.

When my kid gets sick, or we can’t find childcare coverage during my work trip or I have nightmares all night, I fail, and I am no longer who you thought I was. I’m who I was the whole time–a person doing their best with the resources and responsibilities they have, trying to care for themselves and others given the circumstances. A person with little margin for error.

I don’t want to define myself by what I do, or my performance. I want to instead be.

People pursue what my life looks like because capitalism wills us to. It looks like success.

Expectations to look like things are working for you are literally chewing people up and spitting them out.

We have tried to form communities meant to hold us, but we are afraid to be authentic. We know each other but not well enough to stop us from being scared of what happens when people learn that things aren’t as seamless as they appear.

If you do not have to be in these situations, get out. Don’t be a mommy martyr or a person who secretly believes, “When I die of a heart attack, then they’ll know how hard I tried.”

Cancel activities. Do only what energizes you if possible. Stop signing up for stuff. Postpone sleep training or potty training or whatever else you’ve been convinced you need to do right now. Get off social media if it’s making you miserable. If you have choices, use them.

I’ve started taking Sundays off from home labor, refusing to do chores, cooking, or planning that day. I cook bigger meals and freeze them so I’m not cooking as much. I deleted my IG and I look at the news every two days. We stopped overnight potty training for one of our kids because it was too stressful when I was already not sleeping well.

I’ve renegotiated relationships. I also try to choose people over tasks every day. I lean into my CCF work and have deep conversations with supporters and colleagues about how my fundraising work intersects with real life. I’ve realized even my most intense donor trips and conferences feel like breaks—despite the harrowing logistics of pulling them off—so I welcome them.

I’m not a super woman. I am a regular woman who works too hard and does too much.

I am a woman with an outsized sense of responsibility relative to capacity.

A woman who most days chooses to be a good mom and employee, an okay volunteer, and a bad wife, and sometimes rebalances these ratios.

I never have the energy and time to be all these things on the same day and I’ve made peace with that.

That’s what my life is like right now.

It’s obstacles, survival, and joy despite it all.

I am not a super woman.

But I am Black Girl Magic.

Abigail Oduol

Abigail Oduol’s (she/hers) surname is not Irish or Pennsylvania Dutch. It’s Kenyan. She keeps her escape pod in Kenya ready, and checks on it regularly with her young kids and husband. Abigail serves on the CCF Global Council, NACGP D&I committee and with her local PTA. You can follow her on LinkedIn, and can send tips and micro reparations to her Cashapp $AbbyOduol.

Navigating Policy and Advocacy: Essential Skills for CCF Practitioners

Aug 12, 2024 | Multimedia, The Hub, Videos

By Rachel D’Souza, Founder + Principal, Gladiator Consulting, Justice Philanthropy Catalyst, Forward Through Ferguson

“Philanthropy is the love of humankind, the love of people. And we made it about money. We made it about power. But before the colonization, before the capitalism, before the patriarchy, we lived in community. We shared resources. We took care of the people.”

Rachel D’Souza, CCF Global Council Member and Founder of Gladiator Consulting shared insights designed to empower non-profit organizations with the knowledge and tools needed to navigate the complex world of policy. This session explored the critical role that policy plays in shaping the landscape of our work in communities and how non-profits can effectively advocate for policies that support their missions.

Rachel D'Souza

Rachel D’Souza (she/her) is the Founder+Principal of Gladiator Consulting in St. Louis, Missouri. Through Gladiator, Rachel has combined her knowledge of organizational culture and fund development with her deep personal commitment to centering community, seeking justice and creating belonging for those who have been disenfranchised or targeted by institutions, systems, and policy.

Born to parents who immigrated to the U.S. from India, Rachel has always been passionate about bridging differences and celebrating what’s possible when we collaborate from a mindset of abundance, learning, and risk-taking. Rachel loves cooking, snuggling her kids, and Instagram.