by Dr. Kevin Dean, President & CEO, Tennessee Nonprofit Network
In the quiet, often overlooked corners of the nonprofit world, there’s a lurking sense that the challenges faced go far beyond typical organizational hurdles. It’s a feeling that resonates not with the hopeful hum of community building, but with the chilling suspense of a horror film. Having previously explored how the terrifying narratives of “When a Stranger Calls,” “Jaws,” “Get Out,” “The Babadook,” and “Pearl” uncannily mirror the anxieties of nonprofit leadership, we now delve deeper into the cinematic abyss.
The reality is, running a nonprofit can sometimes feel less like a mission-driven journey and more like a descent into a psychological thriller, a slasher flick, or even a supernatural haunting. The stakes are profoundly human, with every misstep potentially impacting the very lives a nonprofit strives to improve. This constant pressure, combined with the inherent vulnerabilities of a sector often operating on thin margins and abundant passion, cultivates a fertile ground for anxieties that can turn the dream of making a difference into a recurring nightmare.
This follow-up exploration will continue to unravel the unsettling parallels between the daunting world of nonprofit leadership and the most iconic horror films. We will dissect how the relentless pressures, unforeseen catastrophes, and deeply personal struggles of the genre find chilling echoes in the daily grind of those striving to do good. From the inescapable legacy of past decisions to the insidious terror of a singular, obsessed stakeholder, prepare to enter a world where the horror is not just on the screen, but sometimes, disturbingly, within your own nonprofit.
1) Hereditary: The Legacy of Inherited Trauma
“Hereditary” (2018) is a terrifying exploration of inherited trauma and the inescapable influence of family history. The film follows the Graham family as they grapple with the aftermath of their matriarch’s death, only to discover a sinister, supernatural presence that has been passed down through generations. The horror lies not just in the malevolent entity, but in the crushing weight of a pre-ordained destiny, where the characters are victims of a deeply rooted, insidious evil they cannot escape. The past is not merely prologue; it is a living, breathing monster that dictates their present and future.
In the nonprofit sector, the chilling echoes of “Hereditary” manifest as the legacy of inherited organizational trauma. Many nonprofits, especially older ones, carry the weight of past decisions, unresolved conflicts, and deeply ingrained dysfunctional patterns that, like a malevolent spirit, continue to haunt their operations. This isn’t just about bad habits but about systemic issues and cultural norms that have been passed down through leadership changes, board transitions, and staff turnovers, creating an environment where past harms dictate present struggles.
Consider a nonprofit that has experienced a series of executive directors who each left under contentious circumstances, perhaps due to infighting, financial mismanagement, or a toxic work environment. This “ancestral trauma” might manifest as a pervasive distrust among staff, a reluctance to innovate due to fear of failure, or a deeply cynical view of leadership. New leaders, despite their best intentions, inherit an organization riddled with these unseen wounds. They might find themselves constantly battling an undercurrent of skepticism, struggling to implement change because the past has taught employees that change only brings more pain. The horror is that the current struggles are not entirely of their own making; they are the result of a malevolent legacy, an organizational curse that was present long before they arrived.
Another example lies in inherited financial distress or a history of precarious funding. An organization might have been built on a “scrappy” mentality, constantly operating hand-to-mouth, making rash financial decisions, or fostering a culture of scarcity. This financial trauma can be passed down, leading to a persistent fear of insolvency, an inability to invest in long-term strategic growth, or an irrational aversion to building reserves. Every budget season becomes a terrifying exercise in survival, every grant application a desperate plea for reprieve, even if current financial practices are sound. The organization is haunted by the ghosts of past financial crises, making it difficult to plan for a stable future.
The “inherited trauma” can also stem from a foundational misalignment with the community it serves. Perhaps the nonprofit was established with good intentions but without true community input, leading to a long-standing disconnect between its programs and the actual needs of its beneficiaries. This historical oversight, like a genetic predisposition to illness, can continue to undermine impact, despite efforts to course-correct. The organization might constantly struggle with engagement, relevance, or a lack of trust from the very people it aims to help, because its roots are tangled in a historical imbalance of power.
The horror of “Hereditary” in a nonprofit is the feeling of being trapped by forces beyond one’s immediate control, battling an invisible enemy whose origins lie deep in the organization’s past. It’s the crushing realization that sometimes, the greatest obstacles to progress are not external challenges, but the unexamined, unresolved legacies that continue to exert a terrifying influence. To break free from this inherited curse, leaders must be willing to unearth the difficult truths of their organization’s history, confront the systemic issues passed down through generations, and embark on a painful but necessary process of healing and transformation. It demands courage to face the ghosts of the past, lest they continue to dictate the present and consume the future.
2) A Nightmare on Elm Street: The Terror of Unaddressed Fears
“A Nightmare on Elm Street” (1984) introduces Freddy Krueger, a terrifying figure who attacks teenagers in their dreams. The horror of the film lies in the inescapable nature of the threat: sleep, a basic human need, becomes a gateway to torment. The only way to survive is to stay awake, to perpetually fight off the exhaustion, but the moment you succumb to sleep, Freddy is there. He preys on their deepest fears, manifesting them in grotesque ways, and ultimately, the real-world consequences of these dream attacks are fatal.
In the nonprofit sector, “A Nightmare on Elm Street” vividly illustrates the insidious terror of unaddressed fears, particularly those that manifest when leaders or staff are pushed to their breaking point. These aren’t just everyday worries; they are the profound anxieties about failure, impact, financial instability, or personal inadequacy that, if left unacknowledged and unmanaged, can invade the “dreams” of the organization – its vision, its strategy, its very operational rhythm – leading to very real and destructive consequences.
Consider a nonprofit facing a looming funding cliff. The fear of losing crucial grants, of having to lay off staff, or of shutting down vital programs is palpable. A leader might try to appear strong and composed, suppressing these anxieties, perhaps working around the clock, losing sleep, and pushing their team relentlessly. This is the “staying awake” part, a desperate attempt to outrun the nightmare. However, if these fears are not openly discussed, strategically addressed, and realistically planned for, they can manifest as “Freddy Krueger” in the organization’s operations. The leader might become irritable, make impulsive decisions, or foster a culture of panic. Staff might become paralyzed by the unspoken tension, leading to decreased productivity, internal blame, and ultimately, burnout.
The “nightmare” of unaddressed fears can also manifest in the realm of impact. A nonprofit might be so consumed by the fear of not making a significant enough difference, or of being criticized for their approach, that they become paralyzed by perfectionism. They might delay program implementation, constantly revise strategies, or avoid difficult but necessary conversations with beneficiaries or funders. This fear of inadequacy, if unaddressed, can manifest as a “dream attack” where the organization becomes so focused on appearing effective that it loses sight of being effective. Resources are wasted on endless evaluations, staff are exhausted by analysis paralysis, and ultimately, the very impact they fear losing becomes unattainable due to inaction.
Another common fear is that of scrutiny or public failure. Nonprofits are constantly under the microscope, accountable to donors, boards, and the public. The fear of negative media, a compliance audit, or a public misstep can become an all-consuming dread. If this fear is not managed, it can lead to an overly risk-averse culture where innovation is stifled, difficult but necessary advocacy is avoided, and transparency is compromised. The “Freddy Krueger” of public perception begins to dictate internal decisions, preventing the organization from truly serving its mission boldly and authentically.
The horror of “A Nightmare on Elm Street” in a nonprofit is the realization that the internal anxieties, if ignored, can become monstrous, invading the very fabric of the organization and leading to real-world devastation. It’s the terrifying truth that you can’t simply outrun or suppress these fears indefinitely. They will find a way to manifest, distorting reality and causing profound damage. To survive, leaders and organizations must confront their fears head-on, acknowledge their presence, and develop healthy mechanisms for processing and mitigating them. This means fostering open communication, promoting mental well-being, and having the courage to face uncomfortable truths, lest the unaddressed nightmares consume the organization when it finally “falls asleep.”
3) Suspiria: The Hidden Coven of Control
“Suspiria” (1977, and the 2018 remake) plunges its protagonists into the terrifying world of a prestigious dance academy that is, in fact, a front for a coven of ancient, powerful witches. The horror is atmospheric and insidious, building on a sense of unease, strange occurrences, and the growing realization that a hidden, malevolent power structure is at play. New students slowly uncover the sinister truth that they are being manipulated, used, and ultimately sacrificed for the coven’s dark purposes. The true terror lies in the deep, entrenched power dynamics and the absolute control exerted by an unseen, manipulative force.
In the nonprofit sector, “Suspiria” serves as a chilling metaphor for the hidden power structures, insidious control, and often self-serving agendas that can operate beneath the surface of seemingly benevolent organizations. This is about a “hidden coven” – a small, entrenched group or even a single individual who exerts undue, often manipulative, control over the organization, potentially to its detriment. This control can be wielded by long-standing board members, influential major donors, or a clique of senior staff who prioritize their own interests or a narrow vision over the broader mission.
Consider a nonprofit where a founding board member, despite stepping down from formal leadership years ago, still maintains an iron grip on decision-making. They might subtly influence current board members, dictate the hiring of key staff, or even pressure the executive director into maintaining outdated programs simply because they were “their” initiatives. This “hidden coven” operates behind the scenes, pulling strings and ensuring that the organization continues to serve their vision, even if that vision no longer aligns with current community needs or best practices. New leaders or staff might sense the resistance to change, the inexplicable dead ends, or the pervasive feeling that decisions are being made elsewhere, but they cannot pinpoint the source of this invisible control. The horror is in realizing that despite their official roles, they are merely puppets in a larger, unseen game, with their efforts potentially being subverted by an entrenched, self-serving power.
Another manifestation of this “Suspiria” effect can be seen with overly influential major donors. While donor engagement is crucial, an individual who uses their financial leverage to dictate program direction, staffing decisions, or even the organization’s public messaging, can become a member of the “hidden coven.” They might threaten to withdraw funding if their demands aren’t met, or subtly steer the organization towards initiatives that serve their personal interests or public image, rather than the true needs of the community. The nonprofit becomes a pawn in their game, unable to make independent decisions or pursue opportunities that might be genuinely impactful but don’t align with the donor’s narrow agenda.
Even within senior staff, a “coven” can emerge – a small group who, perhaps due to long tenure, personal friendships, or a shared history, resist new ideas, undermine dissenting opinions, or actively work to maintain the status quo that benefits them. They might create an exclusive environment, make decisions outside of formal channels, or subtly sabotage initiatives that threaten their established power base. The organization’s ability to adapt, innovate, and truly serve its mission is compromised by this internal, self-serving power structure.
The horror of “Suspiria” in a nonprofit is the chilling realization that the organization is not truly autonomous, but under the manipulative control of a hidden, entrenched force. It’s the profound sense of helplessness when you uncover that decisions are being made by a select few, often for reasons unrelated to the stated mission, and that your efforts are being subtly redirected or even actively thwarted. Breaking free from this “coven” requires immense courage, a willingness to challenge established power dynamics, and potentially a very public confrontation, as the true well-being of the organization hangs in the balance.
4) The Birds: The Unpredictable Swarm of Unforeseen Crises
Alfred Hitchcock’s “The Birds” (1963) portrays a quaint coastal town suddenly, inexplicably, and violently attacked by swarms of birds. The horror of the film lies in its utter unpredictability, the scale of the threat, and the inability to comprehend or control the assaults. There is no clear antagonist, no rational explanation, just an overwhelming, relentless, and seemingly random onslaught that turns everyday life into a fight for survival. The natural world turns hostile, and humanity is left vulnerable and exposed.
In the nonprofit sector, “The Birds” vividly represents the terrifying reality of unforeseen crises and the relentless, unpredictable swarm of external factors that can suddenly descend upon an organization, overwhelming its resources and threatening its very existence. These aren’t just minor challenges; they are large-scale, often inexplicable, and relentless events that can disrupt operations, erode public trust, and strain every aspect of the organization.
Consider a sudden, devastating natural disaster that strikes the community a nonprofit serves. A tornado, a flood, or an earthquake can obliterate infrastructure, displace beneficiaries, and simultaneously create an overwhelming surge in demand for services while crippling the organization’s ability to deliver them. The organization, designed to help, suddenly finds itself a victim, struggling to operate amidst chaos, with staff perhaps personally affected, and resources stretched to the breaking point. This is “The Birds” in action – an unpredictable, overwhelming event that turns the familiar landscape into a battleground for survival.
Another “swarm” can come in the form of a rapid, unexpected shift in public policy or funding priorities. A government agency might suddenly cut a major grant program, a foundational trend might drastically change its focus, or new legislation could fundamentally alter the regulatory landscape. These changes, often outside the nonprofit’s control, can leave the organization scrambling, forcing immediate pivots, massive budget cuts, and potentially the abandonment of long-standing, impactful programs. The horror lies in the sudden, inexplicable nature of the shift, the feeling of being assailed by forces that seem random and uncaring, threatening to destroy years of dedicated work.
Even a sudden, widespread technological disruption or a rapidly evolving social trend can manifest as a “swarm.” The sudden emergence of a new social media platform that dramatically changes how communities engage, or a rapid technological advancement that renders current operational systems obsolete, can be overwhelming. Organizations that fail to adapt quickly can find themselves isolated, unable to reach their audience, or simply irrelevant in a rapidly changing world. It’s not a singular enemy, but a pervasive, unyielding force that demands immediate, often costly, adaptation.
The horror of “The Birds” in a nonprofit is the profound sense of vulnerability and helplessness when facing an onslaught of external crises that seem to come from nowhere. It’s the realization that despite meticulous planning, unforeseen circumstances can turn a stable environment into a chaotic battleground. To survive, organizations must cultivate resilience, agility, and the ability to adapt quickly in the face of overwhelming odds. It demands contingency planning, robust communication strategies, and the courage to make difficult decisions under immense pressure, recognizing that sometimes, the greatest threats are not internal, but a relentless, unpredictable swarm from the outside world.
5) Misery: The Obsessed Stakeholder
“Misery” (1990), based on Stephen King’s novel, tells the terrifying story of a famous author, Paul Sheldon, who is rescued from a car crash by his self-proclaimed “number one fan,” Annie Wilkes. Annie takes Paul to her secluded home, but her initial nurturing quickly turns into obsessive, sadistic captivity when she discovers he has killed off her favorite character in his latest novel. The horror stems from the claustrophobia of being trapped with a singular, obsessed individual whose love transforms into a terrifying, controlling, and violent possessiveness. Paul’s survival depends on appeasing Annie’s volatile desires, even at the cost of his own freedom and physical well-being.
In the nonprofit world, “Misery” serves as a chillingly accurate allegory for the experience of dealing with an obsessed stakeholder – often a major donor, a powerful board member, or even a deeply invested community leader – whose initial passion and support morph into a suffocating, controlling, and potentially destructive possessiveness over the organization. Their “love” for the mission becomes so warped that they believe they have absolute authority to dictate operations, programs, and even the very identity of the nonprofit, often to the detriment of its broader purpose.
Consider a major donor who, having contributed significantly to the organization for years, begins to believe they “own” a piece of the nonprofit. They might demand excessive reporting, dictate the specific allocation of funds down to minute details, or insist on personal approval for every significant decision. Their involvement, initially seen as a blessing, gradually becomes a suffocating burden. The executive director and staff feel like Paul Sheldon, trapped in a metaphorical house with Annie Wilkes, constantly trying to appease the donor’s volatile moods and unpredictable demands. Deviation from their specific vision, even if it’s for the greater good of the mission, can lead to furious outbursts, threats of withdrawing funding, or public criticism. The horror is in the realization that the organization’s autonomy, and its ability to genuinely respond to community needs, is being held hostage by one person’s obsessive control.
Similarly, a long-serving, highly influential board member can become an “Annie Wilkes.” Their dedication, once invaluable, can morph into a possessive control, where they see the organization as an extension of themselves rather than a separate entity with its own evolving mission. They might micro-manage, override executive decisions, or refuse to step down, preventing healthy board rotation and new perspectives. They believe they know what’s “best” for the nonprofit, and any attempt to challenge their authority or introduce new ideas is met with fierce resistance, manipulation, or even punitive action against the executive director. The nonprofit becomes isolated, unable to innovate or grow beyond the confines of this individual’s narrow vision.
Even an overly zealous volunteer or community leader can, in extreme cases, take on “Misery” characteristics. Their passion, initially inspiring, can become an obsessive need to control a particular program or dictate the organization’s public image. They might spread rumors about those who disagree with them, demand special privileges, or publicly criticize the organization if their specific demands are not met. The nonprofit finds itself caught in a delicate balance, trying to manage this individual’s intensity without alienating their support, but often sacrificing internal morale and true mission alignment in the process.
The horror of “Misery” in a nonprofit is the profound feeling of captivity, of being shackled to a singular, powerful force whose “love” for the organization has twisted into a terrifying form of control. It’s the realization that appeasing this obsessed stakeholder becomes a daily struggle for survival, diverting precious energy and resources from the true mission. Breaking free from this grip requires immense courage, a willingness to face potential fallout, and the painful recognition that sometimes, protecting the true integrity of the organization means severing ties with even the most “dedicated” of supporters, to reclaim the freedom to serve the community without fear.
The world of nonprofit leadership, with its inherent idealism and profound societal impact, can, at times, reveal a darker, more terrifying underbelly. From the insidious whispers of inherited trauma to the monstrous manifestations of unaddressed fears, the chilling manipulation of hidden power, the relentless onslaught of unforeseen crises, and the suffocating grip of the obsessed stakeholder, the parallels with classic horror films are not just metaphorical; they are a chilling reflection of the anxieties, betrayals, and lurking dangers that can transform a noble endeavor into a recurring nightmare.
The journey through these five horror scenarios serves as a stark reminder: the pursuit of good is not immune to the forces of darkness. Just as protagonists in horror films must confront their fears, expose hidden threats, and reckon with their own inner demons, so too must nonprofit leaders cultivate vigilance, courage, and a profound commitment to self-awareness.
Hereditary – the inescapable grip of inherited organizational trauma – demands a courageous reckoning with the past. A Nightmare on Elm Street – the terror of unaddressed fears – necessitates open communication and healthy coping mechanisms to prevent internal anxieties from manifesting destructively. Suspiria – the hidden coven of control – calls for challenging entrenched power dynamics and reclaiming organizational autonomy. The Birds – the unpredictable swarm of unforeseen crises – requires resilience, agility, and robust contingency planning. And finally, Misery – the obsessed stakeholder – warns against the suffocating grip of possessive control, demanding the strength to protect the organization’s mission above all else.
Ultimately, navigating the horrors of the nonprofit world is not about banishing the monsters entirely, but about learning to recognize them, understand their origins, and develop the resilience and wisdom to confront them head-on. Only then can the true mission prevail, transforming the potential nightmare into a beacon of hope, safety, and genuine impact for all. The curtain may fall, the credits may roll, but for those dedicated to making a difference, the vigilance against the lurking horrors of the nonprofit world is a never-ending, yet profoundly vital, act of courage.