of poster child — essentially an employee advocate for better communication and transparency from the senior leadership. This work, which included hosting a full staff (800) town meeting, was transformative.
I found my voice as an advocate for the employees at Showtime.
I found my wheelhouse.
Now what? I had no idea. I just knew a change was in the offing.
There was no Aha! moment for me. There was just a conversation. My now wife but then spouse, partner, longtime companion, (enter other euphemisms here) came home from work and told me that the executive director job at GLAAD was open.
I casually remarked, “You know, somebody like me ought to have a job like that. We have three kids, I drive a minivan, and we really do have a white picket fence. That would shake up America's picture of a gay rights activist, huh?”
Eileen, who knows how to shake things up in just the right way, casually responded to my casual remark, “Well then somebody like you should apply.”
I never in a million years thought they would hire me. I had no nonprofit experience, and I had never asked a soul for money before.
So they hired somebody like me. A lot like me. So me it was me. As my good friend Amy says, “Well slap my fanny!”
I guess I should have asked more questions before I took the job. That said, it probably would not have mattered. The Board didn't know either. The GLAAD brand may have been big but the problems were way bigger. I impressed myself with a tough salary negotiation that proved meaningless because all they could afford to pay me was $360. But just a one‐time payment. That was the sum total in the GLAAD bank account.
How did I manage? Well, nobody handed me a book — that's for sure. I don't even remember anyone telling me that everything was going to be OK. It was my job to tell everyone else that everything was going to be OK.
There was so much I didn't know. Like everything it seemed.
I wish there had been a book — one with practical advice about how to untangle this mess, written by someone who had stood in my shoes, written by someone who would be my advocate, help me realize that I was not alone, and maybe even make me laugh that I was sobbing over a piece of stationery.
So I decided to write the book I wish someone had handed me.
Because my experience as a nonprofit leader and then as a board member and major donor and today as the principal in a nonprofit consulting practice has taught me a great deal that I believe will help you as a nonprofit leader become more effective at your job and remind you of the joy you can find in being underpaid and overworked to save even the smallest part of the world.
Maybe you are wondering how I untangled the knots at GLAAD without a book. ☺
We did indeed dig out. I left the organization eight years later with a $1.5 million cash reserve, an $8 million budget and a staff of over 40. But that's not what counts.
We made an impact. Long before marriage equality, GLAAD put same sex couples on the wedding pages of every major newspaper in America. Starting with the New York Times.
If you think there are too many gay characters on television, give it to me right between the eyes. Our work at GLAAD brought us there. If the name Matthew Shepard, the young gay man murdered in Wyoming in 1998, is familiar to you, it's because GLAAD shaped that into a national story, ensuring that any discussion about hate crimes be expanded to include sexual orientation, a lasting legacy for a young man from Laramie.
How did we do it?
The recipe is not unique to my leadership or to GLAAD. There are universal constants.
Between my own personal experience and working with hundreds of board and nonprofit staff leaders, these constants are critical to either digging out, stabilizing, or taking your organization to a place of even greater impact.
You need to rely on the strengths and power of those around you and see your varying stakeholder groups as a village, each with an important role to play in the success of your organization.
Then there is the mission. Your passion for it and your ability to articulate it, why it's important, and what impact it is having on the world. (I continue to be stunned by how infrequently leaders get this right.).You have to cultivate your storytelling skills, and in so doing, you will cultivate your fundraising prowess.
You have to recognize the skills and attributes of your staff and manage them with compassion and accountability (now that is a delicate balance). You have to be transparent and authentic with successes and with challenges. Recognize that you are slightly more like a tribe than a staff.
See the board as a resource and invest time and energy in building a committed and diverse group. Be an active member of the board recruitment committee from day one. And seek out strong co‐chairs and consider them partners. Avoid the “yes” folks. Strong chairs will give you great advice and ask tough questions. Try not to get defensive, and this pushback will make you a more effective leader.
Once your organization stops teetering (see the preceding steps), budget money annually to build a reserve. Once you are able to pull your nose out of the cash flow worksheet, you can actually think ahead. So get to it. Where are the gaps? Are there constituents you are not serving that no other organization can serve as well as you? These conversations can lead to smart and bold strategies and fundable plans for the future.
This is how to dig out, how to stabilize, how to thrive. This is the core of my advice to many of my clients, to the thousands who visit my blog weekly, and to the dozens who write weekly with questions. And this captures the spirit of the advice I hope will be valuable to you.
But the single most important attribute of a nonprofit leader (board member or staff leader) — the attribute that is most critical in helping you to untangle knots, and the one that can move your organization from good to great — is joy.
In my own experience as a staff leader and a board leader along with work with all my clients I have had through the years, it is this attribute that creates standout leaders. They get it. It is a joy to be paid to advocate, feed the hungry, to change laws, to raise money, to create a strong infrastructure — all in the service of others.
I believe deeply in the power of the nonprofit sector to change the world in ways large and small. If you have raised your hand to say “I want to help; I want to work here; I want to volunteer; I want to raise money for you,” you are, in my book, nobility.
Your work says something important about your character, your spirit, your commitment to a fair and just world, your integrity, your courage, your grit, and your perseverance.
Not everyone makes this choice. Far too many people with time, connections, and capacity sit on the sidelines.
You made a different choice.
Your feet are firmly planted on the high road. And know that you are admired.
By many. Including me.
I speak from experience. Traveling on the high road isn't easy and it's messy, but if you love your organization, it's worth every minute.
Nonprofits are messy. Not enough money. Too many cooks. An overdose of passion.
