Recently, after leaving a demanding nonprofit position, I decided it was time to deal with the 30 pounds I had picked up somewhere between ankle surgeries, pandemic baking, and the general stress of being a fundraiser.
Because of the ankle, strenuous cardio was out of the question. My trainer suggested water aerobics.
Now, in my mind, water aerobics involved flowered swim caps, gentle smiles, and graceful ballet-like movements in the pool.
I was wrong.
What I found was a fierce group of women of a certain age who were not messing around. They had water weights, noodles, and opinions. And they moved through that pool with more purpose than many boards move through a strategic plan.
I was the only man in the class, younger than most of them, and absolutely not in charge of anything. They were polite, but I could tell they were watching to see whether I would last. Fair enough. I have watched plenty of new fundraisers enter a room with the same mix of optimism and questionable footwear.
So I kept showing up.
At first, I was just the new guy in the pool. Then I became the new guy who showed up every week. Eventually, I became part of the group. I knew I had truly arrived during a game of water dodgeball when someone yelled, “Let’s go, girls!”
Reader, I was honored.
And yes, this has something to do with fundraising.
Good fundraising is not magic. It is not manipulation. It is not finding the perfect sentence that suddenly makes someone give you money. Good fundraising is the patient work of showing up, listening, adapting, and earning enough trust to be invited into the real conversation.
Donors, like my water aerobics classmates, are entitled to skepticism. They have seen people come and go. They have heard big promises. They have watched organizations appear only when they need something. Trust is not granted because we have a compelling mission statement. It is built through consistency.
That means we have to stop treating cultivation like a prelude to the ask and start treating it as the work itself.
We need to understand what brought a donor to us in the first place. Was it a personal experience? A belief about the world? A relationship with someone on the board? A memory? A concern? A hope? Sometimes the connection is obvious. Sometimes it takes time to find. Either way, our job is not to drag the donor toward our agenda. Our job is to discover where their values and our mission honestly meet.
That requires patience. It also requires humility.
I did not walk into water aerobics and announce that I had a better way to use the noodles. I watched, learned the rhythm, and respected the group. Only then did I become part of it. Fundraising works the same way.
You show up. You pay attention. You do not assume instant intimacy. You do not mistake politeness for commitment. You keep building the relationship until there is enough trust for something meaningful to take shape.
This is where too many organizations get into trouble. They confuse access with a relationship. They think that because someone attended an event, opened an email, or gave once in response to an urgent appeal, that person is ready for a deeper conversation. Maybe they are. Maybe they are not.
A single gift is not a relationship. It is an opening.
The work is what happens next.
Do we thank them well? Do we learn why they gave? Do we report back in a clear, useful way? Do we invite them into the life of the organization without making every interaction feel like a setup for the next ask?
Donors can tell the difference.
They know when we are interested in them only as a revenue source. They also know when we are paying attention. The organizations that raise money well over time are not always the ones with the flashiest campaigns. They understand that generosity grows in relationship, and that relationships require care.
That does not mean we never ask. Of course, we do. Fundraising without asking is just a pleasant conversation with a budget problem at the end of the fiscal year.But the ask should come from the relationship, not instead of it.
Water aerobics reminded me that belonging is not automatic. You earn it by showing up with respect, consistency, and a willingness to learn the group’s rhythm. The same is true for donors, board members, volunteers, and communities.
And if you are lucky, one day someone lets you know you belong.
Maybe they make a gift.
Maybe they’ll take your call.
Maybe they introduce you to someone else.
Or maybe, in the middle of water dodgeball, they yell, “Let’s go, girls!”
Either way, it is a sign that the relationship has moved from transaction to trust.
And that is where good fundraising begins.