Nonprofits fight escalating needs and decreasing funds
by Jane Franklin
“These are life and death matters,” says District 202 Executive Director Laura Ayers, referring to funding cuts to her organization’s HIV and STD prevention program. “Three years ago, we had an application to the Minnesota Department of Health approved, but state funding comes from the federal level and this year [the state] ran out of money before they reached us,” Ayers said. The program can no longer afford to purchase condoms, lube, or dental dams for its safer sex education programs.
District 202, a safe space and service provider for GLBT youth just south of
downtown Minneapolis, is one of many nonprofits hit hard by the stock market
collapse and the state budget crisis. Nonprofit workers across Minnesota are
struggling to find funding to support their programs, even as job loss and an
economic downturn create even greater public need for their organizations’
services.
Founded twelve years ago by activist GLBT youth and adults, District 202 provides
meeting space, peer counseling, mental health and housing referrals, safer sex
education and other services to GLBT youth 21 and under. Located above GLBT-friendly
Nicollet Village Video, District 202 is a large space with a rainbow-colored
floor, quietly humming with activity during the day and occasionally pulsing
with dance music at night. The nonprofit has seen a steady rise in demand for
its services over the years. About 2000 youth have visited District 202 so far
this year, with a large percentage of those being first-time visits.
“It’s not a pleasant time [financially],” says Ayers, “and
yet great, wonderful, life-affirming things are happening.”
Ayers emphasizes that nonprofits are valuable contributors to society. “Nonprofits
tend to fill two roles, says Ayers. “They tend to be visionary organizations,
working creatively and effectively to solve problems. They also help stabilize
society, working with individuals who are highly in harm’s way.”
Neil Cuthbert, a program director at Minnesota’s McKnight Foundation,
also describes nonprofits as providing essential social services that
can’t always be directly supported by the market system.
The
nonprofit economy is enormous. In Minnesota alone, it employs ten percent of
the workforce and pays $8.7 million in wages annually. Nonprofit organizations
range from the sector’s giants, like hospitals and the United Way, through
familiar names like the Minnesota Institute of Arts and the Science Museum all
the way to local service providers like District 202.
According to the 2003 Minnesota Nonprofit Economy Report, nonprofits receive
their funding from three main sources—individual and foundation donors,
government grants, and fees for services. The bigger the nonprofit, the less
dependant it is on donations and state funding. Nonprofits with assets over
$10 million receive only 13 percent of their funds from these sources. Nonprofits
with assets under $1 million depend on state funding for 22 percent of their
funds and on donations for 31 percent. The most vulnerable nonprofits are the
smallest, the ones that serve a small, unique, or marginalized community.
Small nonprofits tend to be like District 202, service providers for a local
issue or specialized group, organizations that reflect local needs and character.
Laura Ayers speaks with passion about both the crises and the daily experience
of GLBT youth services.
Ayers outlines some of the risks faced by GLBT youth. “Thirty to
forty percent of homeless youth are GLBT,” she says. Statistically speaking,
“as soon as any youth is homeless, within 24 hours some adult will proposition
them for sex. All too often our young people are set up and expected to be sexual
when they don’t want to.” She emphasizes that District 202 provides
a space where youth can talk about sexuality with someone they trust—a
peer or an adult who is “culturally competent” about GLBT issues—as
well as a referral service for housing.
District 202 is a place for youth activism and leadership, as well as vital
social support. Youth staff and volunteers counsel their peers, run the shiny
modern coffee bar that dominates the entryway, and plan community events to
address issues like recent episodes of violence against transgender youth. In
fact, GLBT youth who spend time at District 202 are putting together a forum
on funding issues.
As talk turns to funding, Ayers sounds both emphatic and more anxious. District
202 is simply not receiving enough money. State and foundation money is drying
up, and the tide isn’t turning. “[Right now] we get a lot of support
at the three to seven thousand dollar range, but we have a $500, 000 annual
cost, so we really need support in the twenty to fifty thousand dollar range,”
she says. “If we don’t secure those grants and we loose the ones
we have….”
Since the tech bubble burst in 2000, states and foundations don’t have
the money of the go-go, tax refund nineties. Tax revenues have fallen due to
un- and under-employment, while the tax cuts passed during the boom years have
not been repealed even though Minnesota badly needs the money. The state government,
says Minnesota Council of Nonprofits Director John Pratt, “turned temporary
revenue increases [during the nineties] into permanent tax cuts.”
Foundation grant money comes from a foundation’s investment portfolio,
so tumbling tech stocks and a sluggish market have reduced the assets of many
major givers. The McKnight Foundation, a progressive grantor based in Minnesota,
saw its grants fall from $93.9 million in 2000 to $75 million in 2003. Says
McKnight Foundation Arts Director Neal Cuthbert, “After all the corporate
scandals, our assets took a dive.”
Even
though they have less money to spend, foundations are under increased pressure
as nonprofits scramble for cash. This year, Ayers says, foundations are seeing
double and sometimes triple the number of applications they would normally receive.
There’s some irony in all this—in a 2002 speech, Governor Tim Pawlenty
suggested that nonprofits could replace the services that the state was abandoning
due to budget cuts. But the state has also cut the budget of many nonprofits.
Clean Water Action State Director Marie Zellar says that for environmental issues,
“every year it gets politically unpopular to [say] anything other than
‘these are the cuts we will accept.’”
Uncertain funding has another cost, Ayers and Cuthbert say: discontinuity. A
program may be funded and staffed one year, only to be cut the next. Staff are
put out of work, clients lose their connection with the organization, and all
the effort of building up the program is wasted.
The very shape of the foundation world is changing, says Ayers. Even before
September 11, corporate mergers were cutting into the number of corporate foundations
and corporate grants available. “Instead of being locally based,”
says Ayers, “they’re a multinational with a headquarters in New
Jersey or some other state. The Twin Cities are no longer a priority.”
Under financial pressure, other foundations have had to change their procedures.
“We’ve seen foundations that we used to have a good and consistent
relationship with change their giving guidelines and geographic focus. We can’t
even reply to their programs.”
Ayers is concerned by what she calls organizational balance; the more time an
organization spends grant writing, she says, the bigger a percentage of their
total budget goes to fundraising. Around 20 percent is the standard, but
a small nonprofit in hard times may skew out of balance. It costs money simply
to request money, and those costs are rising.
“Just
because the resources aren’t there doesn’t mean the family goes
away,” says Rhianna Williams, Program Assistant for Family Partnership
at Reuben Lindh Family Services. Williams is part of an in-home program that
works with families who have open child protection orders. She works from a
spacious, pleasant converted school in Phillips that also houses a Native American
child services program. When I interview her, the first floor of the building
rings with the sounds of small children at play. The upstairs meeting room and
counseling center where we speak is a converted classroom with a refrigerator
for staff lunches and a rocking chair for a teacher or counselor.
Reuben Lindh provides in-home parenting training, budgeting assistance and therapy
to a client base that is heavily but not exclusively low-income. Staff members
help parents deal with age-appropriate discipline, nutrition, cleaning, communication
and day-to-day stress. “A lot of times these parents are so overworked
and burnt out that they don’t even think about these things,” says
Williams.
The budget crisis means an increase in pressure on vulnerable populations, she
adds. Low-income families are working more hours. Money is tighter. Social services
programs that used to take the pressure off are less available or gone. While
domestic violence is never acceptable, she says, stress and lack of resources
contribute to abuse when frazzled parents face too many crises.
Programs for children with special needs are particularly likely to feel the
pinch, Williams adds. “When there’s a tighter economy we have less
money for school systems. The first thing that gets cut is special needs. A
lot of our kids have behavioral problems … they’re acting out and
the teacher doesn’t know how to handle it.” Funding cuts have reduced
the number of after school programs for families, as well as programs that keep
kids busy and safe after school is out.
Ayers echoes Williams’ concerns about the harm a tight economy can do.
For GLBT youth who do not have strong family support, “the economic pressures
are pretty intense. I know youth who are working multiple jobs. If they lose
one aspect of that financial stream, they become homeless.”
Funding cuts and increasing need create an alarming crunch. Of organizations
surveyed by the Minnesota Council of Nonprofits in 2003, 58 percent saw a rise
in demand for their services. However, only 48 percent of surveyed nonprofits
were actually able to increase the number of clients they served. Demand for
nonprofit services exceeds supply, and demand is growing. Sixty-three percent
of nonprofits surveyed expected increased demand for services in 2004.
One statistic in particular reveals how nonprofit resources are stretched: 66
percent of nonprofits report that there is no other source of services for clients
that they turn away. Especially outside the metro area, whole counties or regions
may be dependent on only one nonprofit.
Economic
pressure limits what can be provided. For Reuben Lindh, this is primarily a
matter of time: the hours that caseworkers can spend with clients, the amount
of time that they can hold cases open. Because of the budget crunch, says Williams,
“we’re not allowed to keep cases open as long as we’d like.”
Workers keep more of an eye on the clock, she adds. “What does this family
need and what can we do for them—within these time restraints?”
Economic pressure also means that Reuben Lindh can take fewer referrals for
services.
Reuben Lindh family workers are mandatory reporters; if they see child abuse,
they must call the reporting hotline so that a social worker is notified and
meets with the client. While abuse is reported immediately, the social workers
themselves have less time and take longer to meet with clients.
For at-risk familes, long-term support is important. A sustained relationship
with a family worker provides a point of stability in the midst of stress. It’s
an easy way, Williams points out, for a client to know what a stable relationship
looks like. When staff is shifted around or a family is moved from service to
service, families must make new relationships. It takes energy to connect, Williams
says. “Having to do that repeated times is draining on anybody.”
Nonprofit staff members tend to be dedicated people, and a budget crisis puts
its own particular strain on them. Overtime, pay freezes, unpaid vacations and
the difficult responsibility of laying off hard-working, effective program staff
all take their toll. “Before,” says Williams, “we had the
time and the funds to do in-service days and teambuilding days. This is a potentially
high burn-out job.” Williams says Reuben Lindh staff try to do small things
to preserve morale, like making sure everyone gets a card or flowers on their
birthday.
When asked about staffing and budget cuts, Ayers speaks of a “painful
loss” to District 202. Stress, she says, “sort of eats at people
… I have already been directed to reduce operating budgets, lay off staff,
have staff take pay cuts. I’ve heard of 10 percent pay cuts [among nonprofit
employees]. I’ve laid off an administrative assistant and now we have
a volunteer three days a week. There has been a program director laid off …
there is a very personal sense of loss in the youth community.”
With layoffs, the network of human services staff is threatened. Ayers talks
about struggling to make referrals to other organizations which are themselves
short of staff and money. When District 202 staff members refer GLBT youth,
they want to know that the person on the other end of the referral is supportive
of GLBT issues. For vulnerable people, a good referral is a lifeline—the
counselor who knows GLBT issues, the doctor who knows that South East Asian
immigrants have specific cultural concerns—and a bad one means a traumatic
encounter, a useless appointment, or even a client who decides to give up on
seeking help.
Williams says that referring clients for state services has gotten harder. “A
little more phone tag, a little more e-mailing,” she says. “Less
face to face.”
Two directors of environmentalist nonprofits are a bit more sanguine about
their situations. Both Whitney Clark, director of Friends of the Mississippi,
and Marie Zellar, the Minnesota State Director for Clean Water Action, feel
that their organizations have weathered the storm, not without difficulty. Each,
however, talks about overall problems funding environmental programs and the
need for new strategies.
Clark
says that when the economic downturn began in 2001, Friends of the Mississippi
was “surging” as an organization, which he attributes partly to
the newness of its projects. The nonprofit, he says, has a host of untapped
foundations and potential donors, unlike some older organizations that had already
identified and worked with most potential sources of funding at the time of
the downturn. These organizations would then have no new source of revenue if
an old one failed.
However, he says that “we’ve never fully funded environmental needs”
in Minnesota. “Some of our policies are actually encouraging degradation,”
he continues, citing increasing suburban sprawl with its attendant pollution.
The water table is in danger from build-out, says Clark, because as we cover
the ground with concrete and drive cars all over it, polluted rain falls on
the concrete and then runs off in large, intensely polluted amounts. “Over
the long term we are systematically under-funding, causing the slow—sometimes
not so slow—degradation of the state’s environmental quality.”
Zellar also expresses concern for Minnesota environmental funding, particularly
in reference to the Clean Water Act. “I think that our state agency has
been severely crippled by lack of support from the state level and funding cuts
from the federal level, not to mention the political climate,” she says.
She adds that “the more funding is under attack, the more sheepish they
[the Minnesota EPA] become.”
For Zellar, one of the roles of CWA is to pressure state agencies to live up
to their responsibilities, especially in a time when the “regulated community”
of businesses that may produce pollution has an unusual amount of strength.
The fines and fees paid by the “regulated community” fund the EPA’s
enforcement programs. Lobbying in Minnesota has kept those fees low, effectively
“shrinking the agency” says Zellar. The Clean Water Act is “a
very big hammer,” and she wants to pressure the EPA to use it effectively.
Both Zellar and Clark say the post-September 11 political climate has actually
encouraged individual giving. “There’s a really cool kind of camaraderie
out there,” says Zellar, because of CWA’s commitment to political
change. She says that although “it’s just really apparent that things
are really tight for [donors] financially, they really want to do something.”
They realize, she continues, that “the situation is dire.”
Friends of the Mississippi and Clean Water Action have both done a great deal
of work with other organizations, as well as taking on contracts from other
entities. She says that a commitment to long-term planning “and luck”
have meant that “whole worlds of new opportunity” have opened up
to the organization.
Even though Clark and Zellar speak with confidence of their organizations’
future, both return to the dangerous under-funding of environmental protection.
With budget cuts shutting down environmental protection initiatives, here will
be no shortage of work for Friends of the Mississippi and Clean Water Action.
Zellar is excited about CWA’s response to a tighter economy. In search
of a more stable source of funding and an expanded connection with members,
the organization hopes to get up to 50 percent of its funding from its membership
in coming years. “Foundations are at the whims of the stock market,”
she says. In addition to shifting emphasis from foundation funding to individual
donors, she says that CWA has been building itself into a mobilization center,
an organization that can take on contracts for allied organizations and produce
a successful phone bank, fund raising campaign, voter mobilization ... “something
that’s really bad-ass.”
Cuthbert
describes the current situation as a “crucible ... what does not kill
you makes you stronger.” He says that small, under-funded or disorganized
nonprofits may not emerge from the current economic situation. Those that make
it through, he says, have a chance to “boil down” to their core
values. Stronger arts businesses may emerge, “because people are having
to focus on the bottom line.”
Still, when asked about how the state’s funding cuts reflect its priorities,
he says, “I sometimes wonder what the vision of some people is ... where
they think we’re trying to go as a society.”
Cuthbert is about as optimistic as circumstances will bear. But one of the organizations
that may not make it is District 202. “If the funding climate continues
to be as challenging as we think it will, we have a cash reserve but we will
eat it up,” says Ayers. “We are an amazing organization, and the
positive impact of this community center in young GLBT people’s lives
is tremendous. We are changing the way the center operates so we have a
stronger chance of weathering the new economic realities. If we don’t
change, and if the community does not support us, then we would face having
to close late next year.” ||
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