Happy Halloween! As we publish this blog, we’re one day away from the last Halloween to fall on a Saturday for 11 years. As adults get ready to either hand out candy or embrace being able to really dress up and celebrate without the consequences of going out on a school night, we thought we’d embrace the Halloween spirit this year and offer a meditation on an intersection between nonprofit culture and Halloween.
So here’s the segue: What’s scarier than the really scary movie you’d only watch with friends around Halloween season? Perhaps the realities of the work it takes to make your nonprofit survive in today’s world. Ba-dum-tss. Also, kidding. (Kind of.)
But actually, there have been some movies in the last few years that really are scarier than the frightening day-to-day moments spiking our heart rates. (I’m sure y’all experience the same icy chill when you hear three Outlook notifications go off in quick succession, right?)
A few highlights have been “Obsession,” “Backrooms” and “The Substance.” These movies are brilliant pieces of art with their own angles and nuanced takes on things that scare us beyond the more tangible horrors we traditionally associate with the genre. Perhaps a good old-fashioned jump scare, or slipping on something and finding out it wasn’t a banana peel, but a brain! On the floor and now on your shoes? Gross!
To me, “Obsession” and “The Substance” offer commentary on the expectations our society places on women, how women internalize those expectations and what happens when those expectations take on a life of their own. The horror comes from people overriding your autonomy at every level, or from feeling compelled to exchange the sovereignty and dignity of your body to be treated as valuable as you once were.
“Backrooms” offers existentially horrifying themes: the way nostalgic settings can alienate us from feeling at home in the present, or how a lack of human presence — or a sense that you might not be alone but can’t see anyone around — can feel more haunting than the moment in most horror movies when you can see the person with the ax. They are, indeed, moving with haste so they can start swinging that thang at our “final girl.”
Terrifying, yes. But at least their intentions are clear.
So what does any of this have to do with nonprofit culture, besides the fact that the fluorescent lighting in “Backrooms” might look suspiciously like your office?
Maybe the connection is this: There’s a difference between being needed and being cared for.
Being needed can sound wonderful. You’re indispensable! Nobody does it like you! We couldn’t do this without you! But what happens when “we couldn’t do this without you” starts to mean “so you can’t take that vacation”? When dedication becomes a willingness to have no boundaries? When being good at your job means becoming the permanent solution to an organizational problem?
That’s where these movies offer us something more useful than a good scare. Through very different stories, they give us a way to ask what happens when a person’s needs, choices and identity become secondary to what someone — or something — wants from them.
For nonprofits, that question deserves some attention. Our missions give us a compelling reason to care. They should not give us an unlimited claim on the people doing the caring.
The lesson isn’t that nonprofit work should never be hard. It’s that we need to distinguish between the difficulty of the work and the difficulty our workplace adds to it. A challenging mission is one thing. Having no say in your workload, feeling valued only when you’re overextending yourself or not knowing where to turn for support is another.
So maybe our Halloween culture check is less “Does everyone love the mission?” and more: Can someone say they’re at capacity without having their commitment questioned? Can they take time off without becoming the villain of the story? Can they ask for directions without being told, essentially, to keep wandering the same familiar hallways?
It’s on us to help those hallways remain connected to the mission that made people want to be there in the first place — not become a source of dread. A little guidance goes a long way. In a horror movie, it might even save you a sequel.
A mission worth believing in should leave room for the people who believe in it to remain people. Not endlessly renewable resources. Not supporting characters in the organization’s heroic origin story. People.
The good news? We don’t need an exorcist to start changing that. We can make room for an honest “I’m at capacity,” help each other decide what can wait and make taking time off an ordinary part of nonprofit work — not a plot twist. Those are everyday ways to show that caring for the mission includes caring for one another.
The office can keep its questionable carpeting. The culture doesn’t have to be a horror movie.