by Dr. Kevin Dean, President & CEO, Tennessee Nonprofit Network
Alright, let me refill my coffee mug and dive back in. You want the director’s cut of “Failure to Launch”? I can definitely give you the unvarnished, slightly ridiculous version of events.
In our last chapter, you know we had gone through the gauntlet of the pandemic. It was a time of pure chaos, but it brought our four organizations—Venture Forward, Center for Nonprofit Management, Momentum Nonprofit Partners, and Alliance for Better Nonprofits—closer than ever before. It also gave us a new mission: we had a crash course in public policy and realized that if we truly wanted to build a strong nonprofit sector, we couldn’t afford to overlook a unified voice in government.
Now, let’s get to the next part of the story, which is a perfect lesson in “be careful what you wish for.”
The New Kind of Awkward
Once the initial COVID chaos started to settle down, a new, quieter crisis took its place. As we tried to readjust to a post-pandemic world, things weren’t going so great for Momentum Nonprofit Partners. I can sum up the mood with a simple phrase: we were all exhausted. People were still a little timid about coming to in-person gatherings, but they were absolutely done with Zoom. And trust me, so was I. The funding landscape was a desert after the oasis of pandemic-era grants. Our earned revenue—from trainings and consulting—was plummeting. It was a new, uncomfortable reality.
We were trying to rebuild our organizational culture after being fully remote, which felt a lot like trying to put toothpaste back in the tube. Our board, bless their hearts, had lost its momentum, too, and seemed a little disengaged. It was a new normal, and there was no going back to the way we did things before.
I realized Momentum needed a massive refresh. It wasn’t because we were doing things wrong, but because the world had fundamentally changed around us. And that’s the story of every nonprofit, isn’t it? We’re all just trying to keep up with the world changing around us, and the world seems to change faster and faster every day. At the same time, I was considering if I was the right person to lead that refresh. I had just finished my doctorate at Vanderbilt University and was thinking I should probably use that fancy new piece of paper for something else. I was even considering some national positions.
My counterparts in Nashville, Knoxville, and Chattanooga were still eager to continue our conversations about a state association, and so was I. I figured this could be my final accomplishment—to create this association with my colleagues before I left for a new national position somewhere. Oh, boy, did I not realize that my trajectory, and the trajectory of this organization, was far different from my plan.
Our Very Caffeinated War Room
In late 2022, we decided to get serious. Tari Hughes of Center for Nonprofit Management invited us all to Nashville for two days of intense initial planning. What would a state association look like? What would it do? How would it interface with our regional nonprofits? We had so many unanswered questions.
The Center for Nonprofit Management’s conference room became our war room. There were Post-it notes everywhere, and flip chart paper became our temporary wallpaper. Our brains were practically leaking out of our ears. I can’t begin to count the number of cups of coffee I had, but it was definitely in the double digits. It was exhausting but also one of the most exciting few days of my life. I kept remembering all those people outside of Tennessee who kept asking me, “Why don’t you have a state association?” and realizing we were finally going to be able to answer that question without awkwardly responding, “Because…we don’t?”
One of the most important parts of those days was creating a list of our shared goals and values. Though all four of our organizations operated differently, we all cared deeply about making sure nonprofits in Tennessee thrive. We aligned on a shared vision, a kind of shared north star for the sector.
Once we had a solid plan, the next step was to host bimonthly meetings. We kept these fairly clandestine—it was our little secret club. But we didn’t just invite ourselves. We invited folks from all over Tennessee: Abby Garrison brought Chattanooga nonprofit leaders, Tari brought her board chair, and my own board chair, Mark Jordan, joined most of the meetings. We invited folks with a 50,000-foot view of the sector from organizations like Sycamore Institute, Middle Tennessee Donor’s Forum, and Assisi Foundation of Memphis. We also had folks from outside of Tennessee join us, including our friends from the National Council of Nonprofits, Mississippi Alliance for Nonprofits and Philanthropy, Kentucky Nonprofit Network, and Montana Nonprofit Association.
The directive from everyone was clear: figure out a path forward, codify it, and come back to the group with a plan to make it happen. It was incredibly daunting. We spent weeks creating a document that laid out three different options for moving forward. We were ready. We scheduled our final meeting where we would present the options, get buy-in from the group, and finally move forward with creating the state association.
When Plans Go to Hell
But then everything went to hell.
The day before the final meeting, my phone rang. It was Abby Garrison, and she had shocking news. Venture Forward was sunsetting. I just remember my heart sinking. This was a massive blow to our coalition. But the bad news wasn’t over. When I arrived at the meeting, Tari Hughes gave me more news: she was leaving CNM to become a consultant. And if that wasn’t enough, Alliance for Better Nonprofits was also merging with their local United Way in Knoxville, leaving a huge question mark about their continued commitment.
I was crestfallen. The coalition, our “four-headed monster” of collaboration that had gotten us through the pandemic, was falling apart right before my eyes. We continued with the meeting as planned, but it felt like a waste of time. The grand plan we had spent months on suddenly felt irrelevant.
After the meeting, though, Tari pulled me aside and urged me to continue. She said we had come too far. Others also urged me to continue. Then, one day, Abby called me with a wild idea. She urged me and my board to make Momentum Nonprofit Partners into the state association. With Venture Forward sunsetting, she argued, it was the only way forward. After considering the options (and remembering all the “why don’t you have a state association” questions), I agreed with her.
I figured if I was going to leave anyway, this could be the answer to both the “refresh” Momentum needed and my swan song before my departure. Little did I realize this wasn’t a swan song at all—it was a prelude to what was to become for both me, the staff, the board, and the nonprofit community at large. But that’s a story for the next chapter.