by Dr. Kevin Dean, President & CEO, Tennessee Nonprofit Network
This story is 100% true, which, in the fundraising world, means it is either completely unbelievable or depressingly mundane. This one leans toward the former.
Early in my career, I found myself in the position of Director of Development for an organization that served children who were affected by or living with a dangerous disease. It was, quite rightly, a wonderful organization—one of those missions that resonated with everyone from philanthropists to politicians, primarily because few people dislike helping sick children. The organization enjoyed an excellent reputation for being both impactful and well managed.
As a nascent fundraiser, I quickly learned that while we hosted several significant, approved events every year, the real chaos often arose from the “third-party fundraisers”—those ambitious endeavors undertaken by well-meaning, yet often rogue, supporters. Though my tenure spanned only three years, it was long enough to accrue multiple “Oh my goodness!” moments that permanently altered my perspective on consent in third-party fundraising. I shall catalogue the others someday, perhaps when my blood pressure stabilizes, but today we discuss the day I received an angry phone call from a donor.
It was a Tuesday afternoon, comfortably post-Thanksgiving. The office was seasonally afflicted with tinsel, staff members were competing for the title of “Ugliest Christmas Sweater,” and a volunteer named Joe was preparing to visit the children dressed as Santa Claus. The setting was idyllic, bordering on saccharine. I recall the moment with perfect clarity: I was attempting to consume a holiday-themed sprinkle donut—a regrettable choice, aesthetically and nutritionally—when the phone rang.
My attempt to answer failed, resulting in a muffled “hello?” delivered with a full complement of half-chewed fried dough. The voice on the other end was immediately, terrifyingly, angry. “You cancel my monthly donation right now! Right now! How dare you host such a disgusting event especially when you serve children! Sick children!”
I was blindsided. What in the Elf on the Shelf was he talking about? Our next scheduled event was four months away and involved a 5K race. Was he mad about our annual 5K downtown? I briefly mused on how jogging for charity could be considered controversial, though, as a person with a bad knee and a profound aversion to sweating unnecessarily, I certainly didn’t find the idea of a 5K particularly appealing. But controversial? Worth canceling a monthly donation? No.
Once I managed to calm the gentleman down, I realized his identity. He was a dedicated monthly supporter and a significant past contributor to our capital campaign. Then came the revelation that solidified the donut firmly in my throat: “A burlesque show? You are raising money for kids by hosting a burlesque show?” he asked.
“Sir,” I replied, my voice achieving a pitch I previously thought impossible, “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
He explained that he had seen a poster at a gas station—a true beacon of civic information—advertising an upcoming “holiday burlesque show” that was allegedly benefitting our organization. I assured him, with the utmost conviction, that we had authorized no such thing and that I would treat this mystery with the urgency it deserved.
My boss and I immediately drove to the gas station. And there it was, affixed to a notice board between an ad for tax services and a missing cat flyer: a poster featuring a photograph of a scantily clad woman partially concealed by two enormous feather fans. And there, positioned with unfortunate prominence, was our organization’s name and logo.
I must state for the record: I have never attended a burlesque show, nor do I harbor any personal objection to the art form. However, given that our organization’s public image was meticulously curated to be “family friendly,” this particular marketing partnership was, shall we say, not aligned. We had donors of all kinds, some of whom would object due to their political or religious beliefs. We weren’t willing to stake our reputation on a fundraiser that would do more harm than good.
My subsequent investigation involved reaching out to a person who knew a person who knew a person who knew a person who was a burlesque performer. She, too, had no clue who was hosting the event. I eventually called the venue, whose owner informed me that the organizers were from out of town. The question lingered: Why us? Why the brazen lack of communication? There are plenty of other organizations where this performance may be more aligned.
After a few frantic pleas, the venue owner canceled the show. Thankfully, the donor possessed a reasonable nature—a rare commodity in these scenarios—and he remained a loyal contributor.
This incident taught me everything I needed to know about consent in third-party fundraising. If you are going to solicit funds on behalf of an organization, it is not merely polite; it is ethically compulsory to inform them and secure their consent.
And now, thanks to a sensible 2024 update to the Tennessee Charitable Solicitations Act, what happened with the unauthorized burlesque show is, happily, illegal.
The Law: Why Consent is Now a Statutory Requirement
The Tennessee General Assembly addressed precisely this kind of unauthorized mischief. Under the 2024 amendments to the Tennessee Charitable Solicitations Act, the law now provides clear legal constraints on third-party use of a nonprofit’s identity.
Specifically, Tennessee Code Annotated 48-101-504, which details prohibited acts, includes:
Solicit contributions for a charitable organization when the charitable organization has not consented, either expressly or implicitly, to the use of its name
Use the name, symbol, or likeness of a charitable organization without the written consent of the charitable organization, for the purpose of soliciting or advertising the solicitation of contributions
The unauthorized use of our name and logo on a flyer—an advertisement for a solicitation, no less—is now a direct and rather gratifying violation of these provisions, specifically requiring the written consent of the nonprofit.
Consent matters in fundraising. The old maxim is true: intent doesn’t matter nearly as much as impact. We almost lost a key donor and suffered severe reputational damage over an event we didn’t authorize, couldn’t control, and only discovered via a complaint. Nonprofits absolutely must have the right to consent to third-party fundraising and the use of their branding, particularly when outside parties are profiting—or simply generating questionable content—using the nonprofit’s name.
We still have work to do to address third-party fundraising conducted on platforms where the organizations remain blissfully, or perhaps nervously, unaware, but that is a crisis for another day.