I used to wear the title of ‘working professional’ with pride.
It’s because I have an inescapable type A personality. It was also because I was fed the message of maximizing career pursuits ever since middle school, when my aptitude for organizing became clear in extracurricular activities.
As a development director who loathes capitalism, I often feel very conflicted about my job. When I was young, I had big visions of making a positive impact on the communities I loved, and they certainly didn’t include asking those who hoard wealth to give back (what is often) an insignificant amount to marginalized communities in exchange for a tax deduction and a sense of superiority and white saviorism.
In the throes of the holiday season last December, the careful balance between read and unread emails in my inbox was starting to take a turn. As I conducted my daily reckoning of my inbox, one message jumped out at me, demanding my immediate attention. It didn’t have a subject.
I recognized the handle right away though; I knew who it was. A riff on her name, she always used the same version of that handle for her social media accounts.
I took a deep breath and rolled my eyes.
In a previous job, my development supervisor bought me nail polish since she knew I enjoy wearing it. This was evident, as I had done so in the office previously.
However, this supervisor was also the one to tell me to remove the nail polish before I went to
any donor event or donor meeting.
The message was clear: You can be whoever you want to be, as long as it doesn’t interfere
with or inconvenience our revenue streams.
In 2018 I started training with Coach Tricia Arcaro Turton at her boxing gym, Arcaro Boxing. It’s located at 1208 E. Jefferson St., in that weird zone where Seattle’s very white, used-to-be-hella-queer Capitol Hill neighborhood bleeds into the once-upon-a-time-hella-Black (historically speaking) and used-to-be-affordable Central District neighborhood.
Coach Tricia, or just “Coach” as many of us call her, is a powerhouse. If you look up Unrelenting Badass Witch on Wikipedia, her smug beautiful mug will be staring right back at you.
“I don’t help people. I provide tools for people least served by the system,” says Rima Green, Growing Gardens’ Lettuce Grow program director. A Portland-based nonprofit, Growing Gardens uses the experience of growing food in schools, backyards, and correctional facilities to cultivate healthy and equitable communities.
Retired master gardener Rima knows what it means to be least served.
As an Autistic woman and as a fundraiser who has worked at a disability-focused nonprofit for almost 10 years, one of the first things I’m asked when I talk about my identity or the work that I do is, “Have you heard of [X nonprofit]? They work with people with disabilities.”
Nine times out of ten I find myself fighting the desire to transparently respond with, “I know a lot about them. PLEASE DON’T GIVE THEM YOUR MONEY, and this is why …”
Usually at the end of any given year, all throughout Facebook Nonprofit Group Land, white, cisgender, heterosexual, abled women in HR and director positions start numerous posts asking different variations of, “What end of the year gift should we be giving our employees to show our appreciation for their work?”
And the answer is always the same, from me, anyway — a raise or a bonus. Please don’t give people desk organizers (supplies should be provided by workplaces, not given as gifts) or gift cards to “nice” (read: expensive) restaurants.
There’s a TED Talk by entrepreneur and humanitarian Dan Pallotta, entitled: The way we think about charity is dead wrong.
You’ve probably watched it.
You probably remember the first time you saw it.
One thing we are learning when it comes to community-centric fundraising is to move away from individual storytelling and toward organizational storytelling.
But what if you have an incredible, compelling story to share? Is there a way to do it in a community-centric way?
The following is my experience as a storyteller and a storytell-ee.
When Community-Centric Fundraising launched in July, we had no concept of what our hub would look like in December 2020. We had no idea we would be so fortunate to have the opportunity to work with such passionate, and intelligent folx — and we didn’t fully understand the kind of talent that exists in our sector.
Here’s an anthology of everything that was published in 2020, organized by theme (and in order of date they were first published).