Business Strategy for Nonprofits

Your case for support is boring. Not because your mission isn't important. Because you're writing for committees, not humans. Here's what every case statement includes: ⦿ History of the organization ⦿ Impressive statistics ⦿ List of programs ⦿ Credentials and awards ⦿ How funds will be used Here's what donors actually want: ⦿ What changes if I say yes? ⦿ What breaks if I say no? ⦿ Why me, why now? ⦿ Who else believes in this? ⦿ What happens after I give? The case statement that raises money reads like a invitation to adventure, not an annual report. Try this instead: 𝗦𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝘂𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲, 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗮𝘀𝘁 Paint the world you're building, not the history you're preserving. 𝗠𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗶𝘁 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹, 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗶𝘁𝘂𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹 Use "you" more than "we." They're the hero, not you. 𝗖𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝘂𝗿𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗰𝘆, 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗴𝘂𝗶𝗹𝘁 Opportunity expires, not hope. FOMO beats obligation every time. 𝗦𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗺𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘂𝗺, 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱 Winners attract investment. Losers attract pity. 𝗣𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗶𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 They're not buying services. They're building legacy. One client rewrote their case. Removed every committee word. Told one powerful story instead. Their campaign goal? Exceeded by 40%. Your case for support shouldn't sound professional. It should sound unstoppable. When did you last read yours out loud?

Empowering young people from underserved communities is scale. Creating meaningful outcomes consistently is impact. As organisations grow, there is often a temptation to celebrate the biggest number: young people reached, programmes delivered, geographies covered. But I believe scale comes with a greater responsibility. The larger our footprint becomes, the more rigorous we must be about how programmes are designed, delivered, measured, and improved. We need to know not only how many participants we reached, but what changed in their lives because we reached them. At Magic Bus India Foundation, this means building strong systems around programme quality, measuring outcomes, learning from data, being transparent about progress, and staying accountable to the young people, communities, partners, and governments we work with. Because reaching millions means very little if we cannot demonstrate that the intervention is helping them build agency, complete their education, develop life and employability skills, and move towards sustainable livelihoods. For me, real leadership in the social sector is not about scaling programmes it is about scaling outcomes. Numbers may open doors, but evidence, rigour, and continuous learning are what create lasting change. Sustainable impact is never accidental. It is built through disciplined execution, relentless measurement, continuous learning, and the courage to improve what isn’t working. Scale becomes meaningful only when every young person, irrespective of where they live and their background, has the opportunity to achieve better outcomes and improve their lives. #SocialImpact #ImpactAtScale #Accountability #Transparency #Leadership #LifeSkills #MagicBusIndiaFoundation

When I took on my role as Chief Corporate Citizenship Officer at PMI, I set a handful of parameters for myself and my team: 1. Don’t fall into the trap of arm’s-length checkbook philanthropy: One-off cash infusions can help nonprofits in the immediate term, but they don’t get at the issue of sustainable growth. 2. Focus, focus, focus: Diffusion is the enemy of progress. There are an endless number of worthy causes and charitable organizations, but our greatest impact will come from identifying a small number of causes that are intrinsically tied to our values and vision and making those causes priorities. (In our case, this is U.S. military veterans, women’s equity and empowerment, and hyperlocal activations.) 3. Empower—and learn from—those already in the trenches: We’re not going to dictate what happens at the community level. We’re here to listen and learn and find ways to support and expand the good works already underway. 4. Give a “hand up” instead of a handout: Band-Aid solutions may make us feel good in the short term, but they don’t get to the root problem. The cash infusions we give our community-based partners are meaningful, but their value grows exponentially when paired with our business expertise and insights. 5. Offer employees a chance to contribute to change: We polled PMI’s U.S. workforce earlier this year about our plans to support military veterans. An astonishing 97 percent of employees raised their hands to get involved. There’s a hunger out there for making a positive difference in local communities and the broader world. Find ways to connect your people to the issues that matter most to them. It turns out that this is the way the next generation of philanthropists is thinking about their impact as well. A recent article (I’ll share the link in comments) shares interesting insights into how our younger generations—millennials and Gen Z—are embracing a more comprehensive approach to philanthropy focused on measurable impact and deeper connections. They’re also showing a greater tolerance for the “long game,” willing to take risks in the short term to lay the groundwork for greater gains down the road. As the next generation of philanthropists takes the reins and starts investing more than money in the causes they care about, let’s make sure our organizations are prepared to do the same.

How philanthropy can better support frontline leaders and environmental movements [At Climate Week, I joined a Global Greengrants Fund-led discussion with grassroots leaders that offered a sharp view of how philanthropy meets—and sometimes misses—the realities of frontline work.] Philanthropy is purportedly rooted in a ‘love of humanity’, yet its operating systems are often transactional. “Philanthropy” encompasses everything from small family foundations to major multilateral donors, but common norms—short grant cycles, risk aversion, and a preference for quantifiable results—shape behavior even among those seeking to work differently. For many frontline conservation and climate justice groups, traditional approaches to giving can feel misaligned with the realities they face. Too often, donors equate success with what can be counted: hectares protected, tons of carbon sequestered, beneficiaries reached. Yet much of the real progress happens outside those metrics. A woman leader challenging taboos in her community, villagers reviving their language, or waste pickers forming cooperatives after exchange visits—these are not “soft” outcomes but signs of resilience. The challenge is not measurement itself but learning to value change that resists easy quantification. A more adaptive ethos would treat grants as relationships rather than contracts, underwriting learning, pivots, and even failure. One youth climate organizer described a $2,000 grant in West Africa that initially flopped. A decade later, the same group had won a national award for emissions-reduction work in the same municipality—an outcome enabled by funders who stayed the course after the first donor’s support ended. Protecting those who protect nature requires investing in people’s well-being and staying power, not only their deliverables. Flexibility, though, is most effective when paired with transparency and mutual trust. Money alone rarely shifts power; the governance of money does. Community leaders seldom sit on foundation boards or advisory groups, yet their participation can recalibrate priorities and improve accountability. Some restoration programs overlook the less visible work of community organizing, even though such engagement is vital to long-term success. Real lives are not lived in thematic silos, yet philanthropy often rewards narrow proposals. All of this unfolds amid growing strain—forest loss, shrinking civic space, and a mental-health crisis within conservation. Short-term funding and job insecurity amplify stress; predictable support allows people to plan, rest, and sustain their commitment. Systemic challenges like climate change demand long-term patience and humility. Philanthropy will not fix global inequities, but it can practice disciplined optimism: funding for resilience, not just results. The path forward lies in trust-based support, shared governance, and the resolve to apply well-known principles with consistency and care.

Nonprofits have a fundraising problem. Not because donors aren't generous. They are. But relying entirely on philanthropy means your mission lives and dies by someone else's budget cycle. When we founded Bright Saver, we made a deliberate choice: build earned revenue into the model from day one. Not to replace philanthropy. To complement it. Here's how we think about it. Philanthropic dollars fund innovation. New programs. R&D. The risky bets that earned revenue can't justify yet. Earned revenue powers the core mission sustainably. For us, that's advocacy, community deployment, and decarbonization work. The work that has to keep going regardless of grant cycles. Right now we're running pilot programs with plug-in solar and battery manufacturers, helping them navigate supply chains, US certifications, safety standards, and a regulatory landscape that's fundamentally different from Europe. Millions of plug-in solar systems are already installed across Germany, Austria, and the Netherlands. The technology is proven. But bringing it to the US requires a different playbook. That's where the nonprofit model becomes an advantage. There isn't a market for plug-in solar in the US yet. We're not trying to maximize margin on hardware. We're trying to open up a market that unites clean, abundant energy with real affordability. We write model legislation. We work with 29 state legislatures. We deploy systems in underserved communities through utility and government partnerships. The pilots generate revenue that keeps all of that moving. We're not fully sustainable yet. We have more work to do. But we built this into the foundation of Bright Saver from day one, not waiting until we were forced to figure it out. Foundations and philanthropists who back us aren't subsidizing the core of our impact. They're funding the innovation layer. New programs in new states. Low income pilots in communities like Stockton. Policy work that opens the door for an entire industry. Thanks again to generous catalytic donors who make this work possible such as Natalie Gordon Lintilhac Foundation Alejandro Foung Lisa Guerra Phillip Hyun and Green Park Foundation. The earned revenue and the philanthropy aren't in tension. They compound each other. One builds the floor. The other raises the ceiling. I used to think nonprofits and revenue were fundamentally at odds. Building Bright Saver changed how I see it. The model works when you let each dollar do what it does best. Philanthropy takes the risks. Earned revenue holds the line. Curious if other founders or nonprofit leaders are experimenting with this. What's working?

Stop managing. Start building. The traditional non-profit focus on efficiency is a trap. It keeps us small. It breeds burnout. It stifles true impact. We need less "doing more with less." We need more "investing in audacious growth." If your mission is truly urgent, why are we prioritizing cost-cutting over courageous investment? True non-profit leaders do not manage scarcity; they demand abundance. Stop viewing overhead as a necessary evil. View robust infrastructure, competitive salaries, and long-term tech investments as the engine of impact. Challenge the funding model. Don't just ask for project support. Ask for the resources needed to solve the entire problem, not just a sliver of it. Demand multi-year, unrestricted grants. Invest in your people. Burnout is a direct symptom of expecting world-changing results on shoestring budgets. Pay fairly. Prioritize well-being. Scarcity thinking is the biggest hurdle to mission fulfillment. Are we leading our organizations to merely survive, or to truly dominate the challenge we exist to solve? #NonProfit

I had a conversation last week with an arts organization ED about surveys that I don’t think is unique to her or to her organization. So now that observation + learning is coming to you in this post... This organization has offered free programming to its community for many years. These are programs that are free, community-centered, built with care… and also financially dependent on grants, cycles, and decisions they can’t always control. This week, in the middle of building their next community survey, she asked if we could include two questions (though the team and the board have never tried asking the second one): ●  “Is our free programming a reason you joined?” ●  “Would you still join if it were paid?” Now surveys are not only a tool for listening. They are also a tool for teaching. ●  They teach people what you think matters. ●  They teach people what you value. ●  They teach people what kind of relationship you’re building. So when we ask, “Is it free?” as the primary reason someone engages… we might accidentally be teaching this: free is the value, free is a motivator, free is the “why.” But free is not the why. Free is often the removal of a barrier. It is access. Motivation/why is something else. Motivation can be: ●  I felt safe here. ●  I felt seen here. ●  I felt curious here. ●  I felt connected here. ●  I felt like I belonged here. Free might help someone walk through the door. But it’s rarely the reason they stay. And the second question, hesitant about paid programming, deserves more honesty than the fear it’s wrapped in. I want this amazing arts organization and my nonprofits in the community to understand: charging money is not the same thing as caring less about inclusion. It doesn’t mean you have become greedy. Nor it means you have abandoned your values. It, however, does mean: ●  we respect boundaries. ●  we respect staff energy. ●  we want sustainability. ●  we want consistency instead of crisis. Choosing inclusion should not require risking staff exhaustion. It should not require existential financial panic. So yes—ask the question – with joy for your mission and trust in your community. Not: “Would you still come if it wasn’t free?” (which sounds like a threat) But: ●  “What pricing model would feel fair and still accessible to you?” ●  “What supports would you need to participate if there was a cost?” ●  “What makes you return—what keeps you in this ecosystem?” Because we are not just collecting data. We are building a relationship with our community. And the goal is to understand what brings people joy, what builds trust, what creates belonging—and what kind of generosity people want to be part of when they believe in the mission. Being intentional about building (all forms of) sustainability is not a betrayal of values; it's how our values will survive. #nonprofits #community

If I'm in charge of revenue at a large nonprofit, I can't ignore these realities 👇 -Donors giving below $100 are down ~9% (and have been trending down) -Donors giving below $500 are down 4% (and have been trending down) -Slower income growth & less disposable income for most -Middle-class households under economic pressure -The rapid decline of religion (that has giving as a core tenet) -Decline in institutional trust -Not only is charitable giving largely stagnant as a % of the GDP, but we also haven't been able to grow share of wallet -Donors giving $5k-$50k are up 1% -Donors giving $50k+ are up ~3% And if I look around at what other nonprofits are doing, I might see 👇 -Marketing getting louder -Frequency cranked to 11 -Tired tactics with little differentiation And if strategy is about how an organization applies strength against the most promising opportunity or the most critical challenge, I need to address the problem head on. Three ideas... 1) Instead of getting louder, get closer to donors. -Jeffersonian dinners -"Jobs To Be Done" interviews -Measuring donor satisfaction -Rating the donor experience -Cross train across the org on how to listen to donors -More thoughtful prioritization and segmentation -Do things that don't scale; you will likely not "scale" anyways (but you'll very likely grow!) 2) Focus more energy on the people who *can* give more. That doesn't mean you should ignore the $100 donor. Two things can be true at the same time: most of your limited human hours are best spent on people who can give >$10,000, AND, you can treat the $100 donor like they're an important part of the team (because they are). -Create tiered caseloads (A, B, C, D donors) -Develop a donor engagement plan for each tier -Treat mid-major donors like true partners: frequent report backs, project proposals, town halls, feedback loops, in-the-moment updates -Focus your work in the 'mass' file to identify the best prospects for a mid-major treatment, and work to move as many OTGs to recurring (monthly) or re-occuring revenue (quarterly, yearly, etc.) 3) Promote giving from assets across the donor file—and make it easy to do so Russell James taught me this. When people give from their assets, the gift is likely to be larger. And they are more likely to give again. Giving from assets (like stocks and shares, tax-savings accounts, retirement accounts, DAFs, gifts of life insurance, etc.) is often the smartest way for donors to give—no matter the size of gift. But many donors simply don't know it's an option. -- We're partnering with growth-minded nonprofits to implement all of these ideas, and more. If you think it's time you create a solid midlevel giving strategy (not just a standard appeal with an open ask), give me a shout.

Most nonprofit pitches sound like a grant. The best ones feel like a mission you can’t ignore. Here’s how to pitch with clarity and conviction: 1. Lead with urgency, not your org name. “We’re [Org Name] and we…” loses people in 3 seconds. Start with: “Every 5 minutes, a teen drops out of school because they don’t see a future.” Hook first. Logo later. 2. Cut the resume. Tell a story. Nobody funds a list of programs. They fund outcomes, transformation, people. Try this: “Last year, Jamal almost became a statistic. Today, he’s interning at NASA. That’s what our work makes possible.” 3. Ditch the buffet approach. Pick one lane. Too many pitches try to do it all: education, food, housing, advocacy. Instead, say: “We do one thing exceptionally well: help first-gen students graduate and thrive beyond the diploma.” 4. Back it up with numbers. “We’ve helped over 3,000 students and 78% are now in college or full-time careers.” Impact data is your credibility badge. Use it. 5. Show the system you’re changing. You’re not just running programs. You’re fixing what’s broken. Explain the bigger picture: What problem are you solving for good? 6. End with vision, not desperation. Funders want to back momentum. Not uncertainty. Try this: “We’ve proven our model in 3 cities. Now we’re scaling nationally and inviting partners to help us get there.” A great pitch isn’t a plea. It’s a rally cry. You’re not asking for help. You’re inviting people to join a cause worth fighting for. Comment “Pitch” and I’ll send you the exact resource nonprofits are using to win over long term donors. With purpose and impact, Mario

Your nonprofit's elevator pitch isn't landing. Not because your mission isn't compelling. Because you're describing the ride, not the destination. I hear it all the time. Someone asks "what does your organization do?" and the answer sounds something like this: "We provide wraparound supports to at-risk youth and families through evidence-based programming and community partnerships." Everyone in the room nods. Nobody knows what just happened. That sentence isn't wrong. It's just answering the wrong question. People don't give to activities. They give to outcomes. They give to the version of the world your work is trying to create. So instead of describing what you do, describe what changes. Not "we provide mental health supports to youth." Try "8 out of 10 kids who come to us in crisis leave with a safety plan and someone in their corner." Not "we deliver food security programming." Try "last year, 400 families in this city never had to skip a meal. This year we're on track to reach 500." Not "we offer employment readiness training." Try "72% of our participants land a job within 90 days of finishing the program." Same work. Completely different story. The elevator pitch isn't about the ride. It's about where people end up when the doors open.