Rhea Wong, founder of Rhea Wong Consulting, helps Rhea helps nonprofits raise money and love it. She has raised millions of dollars in private philanthropy and is passionate about building the next generation of fundraising leaders.
Rhea lives in Brooklyn with her husband and the World’s Most Spoiled Dog Stevie Wonderdog. When she is not raising money for causes she loves, she can be found hosting her podcast Nonprofit Lowdown or onstage as a newbie stand-up comedian in downtown Brooklyn. For more information, check out rheawong.com
When I was an Executive Director, I used to dread fundraising. I thought of it as a necessary evil of my job, but it always felt heavy and burdensome.
Funny now that I make my living teaching people to love fundraising.
So, what changed?
First, some context: In my family, I often heard things like, “Money doesn’t grow on trees. Who do you think we are, the Rockefellers?”
I remember vividly being eight years old and walking down the street with my parents. I saw a homeless man lying on his side. He was gaunt with stringy hair in his eyes and had a handwritten sign that read, “Former vet. Hungry and homeless.” I felt compassion and handed over a quarter I had in my pocket.
My father saw me do it, turned around and snapped, “Oh, so you have so much money now, you can just give it away?”
Shame flooded my body and I hung my head. I was in trouble for something that I couldn’t articulate.
In my family, escaping from Communists, money was to be hoarded because money represented freedom and safety.
Fast forward to being a newly-hired 26-year-old Executive Director, I would grit my teeth and take meetings with funders, looking them in the eye, slapping a smile on my face but feeling my heart race. I had unconsciously placed MY family’s story about money onto my donors. By asking people to support a cause, I subconsciously believed that I was asking them to give up their safety and to experience the shame that I had when I gave money away.
I started to challenge this when I met Liz, an understated woman in her 50s who was a lifelong New Yorker and smart as a whip. After a couple of meetings, I asked if she would consider joining the board. She agreed to think about it and asked to see the financials. Two days later she called me.
She said, “Rhea, I’m looking at these financials and this revenue line for the board is really disturbing to me.”
I felt my heart sink. Oh no, she’s not going to join the board.
She continued, “Is it right that all the members of the board are collectively giving $30,000?”
Mmm-hmmm. I was starting to sweat.
She continued. “Well, if I’m joining this board, they’re going to have to give a lot more. So, I’ve been thinking about it. I’m going to give $50,000 now and if the board can match that, I’ll give you an additional $50,000. The check is in the mail.”
Months later, I had a six-figure check in my hand. To that point, it was the largest check I’d ever held and I just stared at it. What if, I started to wonder, there are people who not only had capacity but delighted in giving to causes they cared about? What if there’s all the money in the world that we needed instead of believing that we had to scrape and fight for every penny?
What if everything that I believed to be true about money was not true at all?
Since then, I have made conscious efforts to unlearn my stories about money, scarcity, and other people’s generosity.
For us to experience longevity and effectiveness in our career as fundraisers, we need to unpack all the emotional baggage, trauma, and unhelpful stories about money.
By consciously choosing to believe in the infinite flow of money and resources, I’ve been able to shift my energy to experience lightness, joy, and fun in fundraising. When I chose to believe that there was a big pile of money out there with my name on it and all I had to do was find it, fundraising started to feel less like a high-wire act and more like a fun game.
After all, it’s just money.