This post originally appeared on the author’s Medium page. Read it here and find out more about the Full Frame Initiative here.
Anyone who has known me for more than a minute knows I love donkeys so much that I have five of them. Real live donkeys. They’re fabulous.
Donkeys and Nonprofits
Donkeys are a lot like nonprofits. First of all, they are completely misunderstood. They’re incredibly hardy, intelligent, affectionate, sometimes opinionated, relational animals. Thinking of them as inferior versions of horses is like, well, thinking of nonprofits as inferior versions of commercial enterprises. Frustrating and ridiculous.
Donkeys do a lot more for a lot less. They carry loads disproportionate to their size. They are desert animals, used to scraping by and seeing scrub brush as a delicious asset when it seems like a prickly bush to most others. And whew, can they stretch a calorie — even though they don’t want to — just like nonprofits are generally excellent at making do with less money than their corporate equivalents might need.
True, donkeys are sometimes stubborn (as am I), but they’re also aware. Those great big ears pick up on a lot that mine miss. Donkeys can even use their eyes separately to watch two different things, or use them as humans do — like binoculars. They see foxes in the field and hear coyotes behind the barn when I don’t. I’ve learned to watch where they look and where they point their ears if I want to know what’s going on way down at the edge of the woods. They also pick up on my mood, watching me and sensing what I need. Being with them can tell me a lot about what’s going on inside me, and what’s going on in the larger context — if I am ready to listen.
When a Donkey Shows You She’s Sick, Act Fast
Donkeys have made it to my Medium at this moment because they are incredibly stalwart animals. They keep going under often challenging — even cruel — circumstances. They make do and adjust, even when we would assume they’d kick or run away (they rarely do). Perhaps because they’ve been creatures at the margins of deserts and human endeavor, they are survivors who are loyal and don’t want to leave jobs undone. We can think of the humans who provide food and shelter for these donkeys as funders in this little metaphor1. Some are over-controlling, some indulgent, some neglectful, some attentive, attuned and responsive. After 5,000 years of donkey domestication, there’s an enmeshment that human caretakers can afford to underestimate but that donkeys really can’t.
Donkeys are sick and hurt surprisingly rarely (compared to horses especially!). But if a donkey seems to be ill, it’s almost certainly very serious. Sometimes, it’s too late. I’m not going to call the vet if my dog turns up her nose at dinner — she probably just ate something revolting in the woods and will be back on her game tomorrow. But if one of my donkeys doesn’t eat, I call the vet. Almost always, my vet says she’s coming right over; she’s not waiting to see how things go.
Nonprofits don’t let on when we’re in pain or sick either. It’s part of our survival DNA, too. Signal that we’re financially strapped or facing a staffing crisis, feeling wobbly, or whatever the equivalent of a donkey’s limping or lying down too much is, and there’s a really good chance donors will pull back, instead of leaning in. Not always, to be sure. But it’s a pretty big risk to take. We’re not lying, we’re just putting on a really brave face.
The Nonprofit Sector is on the Edge of a Crisis
Even as The Full Frame Initiative (FFI), the organization I lead, sunsets, there is an acceleration of other organizations — big and small — closing, too. Some are closing well and with some intention (probably, as in FFI’s case, with some wind-down funding), but most are closing suddenly, traumatically. While the funding landscape is really tough — the worst I’ve seen by far in almost 35 years of fundraising — FFI’s and other closures aren’t just about money. But a nonprofit strapped for funds is like an emaciated donkey; any infection, fall, or illness will be far more consequential.
Without intervention, we shouldn’t anticipate a great correlation between organizational endurance and effectiveness. The nonprofits that will survive are, by and large, the best connected, lucky, program-focused, palatable groups. Many of them do extraordinary work, but not necessarily more extraordinary than the organizations that won’t make it. Some who survive do crummy work, as will some who close.
What we can anticipate is that we will lose organizations doing vital work that is hard to understand, and work that is urgently needed, with a long-delayed return on investment. We will lose work led by people who know intimately both the harms and the solutions. We will all lose.
I’m not a nonprofit apologist nor evangelist (even if I am both for donkeys). As a sector, we’ve created harms that we’re not acknowledging, and we have a lot of work to do on ourselves. Much of the most valuable work in communities is launched and nurtured without a nonprofit in sight. But we must not be silent when there’s a setup for a broad, sudden shrinking of the sector. Because the real harms of funders failing to acknowledge this and step in quickly will be borne — as always — by the very communities facing the very injustices that many funders and nonprofits target. Inequities and community challenges are likely to compound with the new administration, and while nonprofits aren’t the answer (by a long shot), we are the medium through which philanthropy works, and we have a role to play. But we have to be alive and healthy to do so.
There’s an Alternative
The way out of this is not to expect nonprofits to make the first move or change behavior, to suddenly trust that a funder will respond favorably to unvarnished reporting. That’s not how power flows. The first step is for funders to realize that there are a whole lot of very hurting organizations right now, to be in tune enough with your grantees to see the equivalent of a limp, and to act with the same urgency and partnership nonprofits demonstrate when communities face crises. Remember — you can’t risk waiting till morning for the sick donkey. You may have to change your plans and spend money you didn’t intend to. That’s the responsibility. As a funder, this is not the time for a new strategic plan.
The wave of closures is systemic, not about individual organizational behaviors or choices. An organization short on cash may have just had the rug pulled out from under them by another funder that made a “strategic pivot” really suddenly. If it’s an organization you care about, you could, of course, try to hold that other funder accountable. But that nonprofit, and the community they’re in, is holding the burden and all the risk of the predicament, and you have at least a piece of what could help save or transition that organization. Before you say it’s not your responsibility to make up another funders’ gap, just know that you do it all the time, for example filling the gaps left by meager government grants or helping to launch a new initiative that actually is a reboot of the same program (different name) that was running at the end of a prior funder’s grant. Nonprofits just don’t advertise it because we know you don’t like it.
Not every nonprofit should or can be saved. But many can, if there are funders who make a multiyear commitment. Not a one-time infusion; not funding for something new. Those nonprofits that need to shutter should be helped (even expected) to close out well. That almost always will require a funding runway. Nonprofit hospice is expensive and requires acknowledgment of grief and loss — feelings we hate to sit with. It’s an essential process if the legacy that’s been built by community, nonprofits, and funders will live on. Funding endings should be part of the standard social justice funding toolkit.
If you are already this funder, thank you. Please help your peers see what they may not be aware of.
The Time for the Alternative is Right Now
As I write this, it’s really cold outside. Minus seven with the wind chill. The donkeys get extra food, deeper bedding, and cute coats over their thick winter fur if they want them. Given how cold it is, they get extra attention to make sure I’m not missing a subtle sign something’s wrong. It’s care that is part of the responsibility I assumed when I took on donkeys, a responsibility that sometimes means I have to change my plans and spend money I was keeping in reserve. Because if something’s wrong, I’ll call the vet immediately, and she’ll come right over.
Funders, what will you do?
Katya Fels Smyth is founder and CEO of Full Frame Initiative.
- I realize that some people will object — mightily — to a metaphor wherein funders are humans and nonprofits are donkeys. I suspect you haven’t spent much time with donkeys, and I highly recommend you do so before you pass judgment. ↩︎
