Hi everyone, buckle up (though, at this point in the rapid collapse of civilization, I’m not sure any of us can be more buckled than we already are). Whenever I talk about donors, people get weirdly defensive and all up in their feelings, like a mama bear when someone threatens her cubs. If that’s you, please grab some fair-trade chocolate, a cup of matcha, or whatever else that soothes you before continuing.
I grew up in Vietnam and often go back to visit. One of my favorite places is Saigon’s Bến Thành market, a giant mostly indoor market with about 1500 vendors. I took my kids there one day this summer so they could be immersed in the experience, and they were quickly overwhelmed by people shouting at and beckoning to us to buy souvenirs, dried fish, fruit, clothes, toys, hot food, and electronics. With so much competition all around, who could blame these hardworking vendors for clamoring for customers’ attention and dollars.
In a way, this giant market was a great visual metaphor for what our sector has somehow evolved into. Over past several decades our fundraising philosophies, practices, and pedagogy (how we teach fundraising), have led to a “retailification” of our sector and thus of equity and justice.
By that, I mean we have entrenched the capitalistic notion that every nonprofit is like a retail shop selling specific causes, goals, and even emotions, and donors and funders are their customers. This retailification manifests in several ways, including:
- The constant striving to ensure donors have excellent “customer service” through personalized touches such as thank-you notes and calls, invitations to special events (usually involving wine), and so on.
- The pervasive environment of competitiveness. Here it seems even worse than in retail, as nonprofits are not just competing with those with similar missions, but with organizations with completely different missions and even geographic locations.
- The use of marketing tactics like pulling on heartstrings, donor walls, and linking dollars donated to direct impact, such as “$100 dollars provides ten kids with lunches for a week.”
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