In the day-to-day panic that engulfs the average nonprofit arts organization leader, especially those in the United States, sometimes the goal is to make it to tomorrow. That’s a fine goal for a person in panic, but is it the right goal for the whole organization?
Let’s look at it another way, from a completely different issue.
Suppose you have a child. We’ll call him Max. Regardless of your socioeconomic standing, marital status, or any environmental factors, Max loves you. You love Max.
Max turned 15. On his birthday, he announced to you that he is not comfortable in his gender. This does not surprise you, on some level, because you’ve noticed that for the last couple of years, Max has gravitated toward nontraditional interests for a boy. You’re progressive, or at least you say you are, so you were prepared to hear that Max might be gay. You knew the issues surrounding that moment—the announcement, not the orientation—and you wanted to support him in any way you could.
After you’ve congratulated yourself on your own progressiveness, Max nervously offered a corollary to the first announcement. Max told you that he would be more comfortable as a female. Your child has picked out a new name, Minnie, and he would like you to use the pronouns she/her.
Before you jump to the height of irrational panic with your own value system, take a moment. Rather than dismissing this as a “fad” (there are plenty of folks who believe that) or as a “phase” (also popular, if unsupported) and deny your child, ask yourself this question: “What is the worst thing that could happen if I completely support Minnie’s decision?”
At the same time, ask yourself, “What is the worst thing that could happen if I deny Max’s request, or at the very least, try to placate him in some other way?”
As the parent of a transgender child, I can relate. For me, the answer was easy. Choose to continue to love and support your child, no matter what. If she wants to be Minnie, let her be Minnie. Encourage Minnie. Love Minnie. Let Minnie decide where she is in the process and just support her in every possible way. It’s her life, not yours. Let go. Because if your love or respect is conditional on a gender decision, Minnie will remember that lack of support for the rest of her life. And she may completely cut you out because of it.
And that would be the worst thing that could happen, right?
For others who are experiencing this issue—even among the liberal folks in my circles—we can have a long talk about this at a later date. But transgender issues are not what this column is about.
Your nonprofit arts organization, which for years (like most nonprofit arts organizations) has directed its impact toward its own “excellence,” whatever that means. You’ve asked for ticket and contribution money to pay for it. You haven’t really done anything except produce your art, which, while noble, is secondary to your community’s needs.
They’ve noticed. And they’re acting accordingly.
The pandemic put the word “essential” in everyone’s vocabulary. And while art might be considered indispensable for a civil society, your arts organization is not. Art existed before its founding and will continue to exist after its closure.
Your nonprofit arts organization, which for years (like most nonprofit arts organizations) has directed its impact toward its own “excellence,” whatever that means. You’ve asked for ticket and contribution money to pay for it. You haven’t really done anything except produce your art, which, while noble, is secondary to your community’s needs.
Put another way, art as a tool is essential for your employees, your board members, local artists, and some of your donors. But as a community impact-producer, not so much. You don’t solve hunger, homelessness, or social justice issues. You might talk about them, but you don’t solve them. Or even mitigate them.
You weren’t there on the front lines when hospitals and other health-care centers were full. You didn’t serve food or even put your health in danger at the local supermarket or green grocer. Once art was taken off the table, you just stopped and flailed like a turtle on its back.
That’s the textbook definition of “non-essential.”
So now, nonprofit arts organizations such as yours face a monstrous dilemma. The public has seen your quintessential non-essentialness. They know. They may even love art, but that’s less important to them now. They can watch art online, streaming, or on regular ol’ television. In this next normal, they want to know why they should donate money to you if all you care about is putting on art.
Your funding is kaput, having lived off of federal and local special pandemic-based grants for the last two years. Your staff is exhausted, what’s left of them. You have new leadership. You have old leadership. You’ve drained that emergency fund which you mistakenly called an “endowment” and have had to apologize to donors for using the corpus when you said you never would. You’re looking for work and your staff knows it because, hell, they’re looking for work, too.
What is the worst thing that could happen if you decide to stop everything for a minute and make one of the following choices?
- Determine that your nonprofit arts organization is a nonprofit first and an arts organization second by executing measurably effective, impactful activities that make your community a better place to live. Also known as “doing the right thing.”
- Close.
Go ahead and take a moment now.
Know that you need different people to do the first choice than you have now, both on staff and (perhaps especially) on your board. Know that change, normally incremental in nature, has become much more radical in action since 2020.
Also know that there is no shame in closing. As I’ve said in previous columns, every Broadway show that has ever opened has closed except for the ones running on Broadway right now.
After that moment, continue through the thought process. Ethics and values are all that you have, unless you are a sociopath that doesn’t really care about such things. You’re not a sociopath, right?
So?
What’s the worst that could happen? What’s the best?
Based in Kirkland, Washington, Alan Harrison is a writer and speaker specializing in nonprofit organizations, strategy, and life politics. His columns appear regularly in major publications. Contact him directly at alan@501c3.guru.
Alan is always looking for good opportunities to write and consult for nonprofits that need a hand. And, of course, that elusive Perfect Opportunity™.
Thought-provoking essay.
I think the first alternative would be challenging for most. Arts orgs are founded, in my experience, by people who burn to create more of the art of which they are enthused. It is only this deep desire that lets them survive the privations of the NFP start-up. These folks would not seque easily to the skills needed to better serve their community.
Thus my first thought was the second alternative is best: to close.
After a few moments it occurred to me that there is a third path. Downsize. Return to the organization to something like it was when it started—without mortgages, unions, marketing staff— and scrounge for your art. One good outcome of this would be, for performing groups, that they could not consider the big musical, the Petipa-ballet. If they remember that the reason for downsizing was to better serve their community, they might choose smaller, perhaps less-polished work that relates to the needs and values of that community.
I agree completely, Tim.
Most arts organizations were created by people who were passionate about the art form to serve others with similar passions. Impacting communities in positive ways was assumed, but was always a secondary consideration.
The “we deserve free money because our existence is good for the community” was potent rhetoric when community passions ran high, but the diminishing relevance of so many traditional institutions has proven it to be fairly empty.
I’m happy to second your suggestion about downsizing to fit smaller, more fully engaged support systems.