12 Skills Fundraisers Need for What Comes Next: #9 Humanity

Somewhere along the way, we decided that being “professional” meant being less human.

We learned how to dress the part, how to sound the part, how to keep our emotions neatly folded away, like extra sweaters we might need later but definitely shouldn’t wear in the meeting.

And to be clear, "professionalism" matters. Competence matters.Credibility and experience matter a lot. But when professionalism turns into performance, something else gets lost: Humanity.

And yes, I’m going to say it plainly: being human is a skill fundraisers have to develop and nurture intentionally.

Because this work will quietly train it out of you if you let it.

Fundraising deals in money, but it’s built on emotion. Hope. Fear. Love. Grief. Gratitude. Identity. Meaning. And yet, we often behave as though the goal is to rise above all that—to become neutral, polished, unflappable.

But donors aren’t neutral. The missions we serve and challenges we work to solve are definitely not neutral - and you aren't either!

Humanity is the skill of letting yourself be fully human at work—serious and goofy, thoughtful and tired, competent and occasionally messy—without believing that any of those states disqualify you from doing good work.

Being human is also giving yourself the permission to make mistakes, to fail, and to lern in the process.

It’s knowing when humor lowers the temperature instead of trivializing the moment. It’s allowing yourself to laugh in the middle of something har; not because it doesn’t matter, but because it does. It’s remembering that warmth builds trust faster than perfection ever will.

Which brings me to the wombats.

You may have noticed that every post in this series - in fact many of my blogs - comes with a picture of a wombat . . . years ago, when asked for an example in a training, I invented something called The Wayward Ravaging Wombat Rescue. Why? Because the word wombat is inherently funny. Alliteration is sticky. And when we attach serious ideas to something slightly absurd, our defenses drop just enough for learning to sneak in.

Wombats are a reminder not to take ourselves so seriously that we forget what this work actually requires of us. They’re a stand-in—a deliberately imperfect, slightly ridiculous one—for the full range of human experience we bring to this profession.

They help us remember that generosity doesn’t happen between job titles. It happens between people.

And people are funny. And complicated. And inconsistent. And wonderful.

Humanity also means allowing donors to be human—changeable, contradictory, emotional—without labeling them as irrational. It means giving colleagues grace when they’re stretched thin. It means recognizing that sometimes the most professional thing you can do is name what’s real instead of pretending everything is fine.

This skill matters because the opposite of humanity isn’t rigor; it’s burnout.

It’s detachment. It’s cynicism. It’s the slow erosion of joy that makes this work feel heavier than it needs to be.

You don’t need to become less serious about the mission to practice humanity.

So if today feels heavy, let it be lighter. If something strikes you as absurd, let yourself notice it.I f you find yourself smiling at a wombat in a bathrobe, good. That’s the point.

Humanity isn’t a distraction from the work.

It’s what makes the work sustainable.

Five ways to practice the skill of being human

• Notice humor when it shows up, and let it land. Not every joke is a distraction. Sometimes laughter is how pressure releases and connection reappears. If something is genuinely funny, you’re allowed to laugh. Even at work. Especially at work.
  

• Give yourself permission to make mistakes without turning them into indictments. You will fail. You will miss something. You will say the wrong thing and replay it later. That doesn’t make you unprofessional; it makes you human. Learn from it, repair what needs repairing, and keep going (even if your boss hasn’t fully figured this part out yet.)
  

• Acknowledge grief, stress, and overload instead of powering through them. These aren’t personal shortcomings; they’re signals. Sit with them long enough to understand what they’re asking for. And . . . USE YOUR PTO. It exists because no one does this work well while running on empty.
  

• Let go of one performative expectation that doesn’t actually serve the work. Maybe it’s the tie you don’t need to wear. Or the makeup you put on out of obligation, not choice. Or the version of “professional” that requires you to feel less like yourself. Choose one thing and release it. See what happens.
  

• Let yourself be who you are — boisterous or quiet, introverted or extroverted — without narrating it for others. You don’t owe anyone a personality explanation. What other people think about your way of being is not your business. Showing up as yourself is not a liability; it’s how trust forms.

Sometimes the hardest advice we have to follow is "be yourself." Remember, the longest relationship you'll ever have is with yourself so check in on how you're talking to yourself.