Less Panic, More Disco

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about how fundraising can so quickly become a beggar's banquet; a competition to see who can convey the most need. Whose crisis is most urgent. Whose desperation is most compelling. And somewhere in that race to the bottom, the joy of donor generosity gets lost entirely.

But what if creating urgency in fundraising wasn't about eliciting more panic? What if urgency could feel expansive, dare I say exciting, like a disco?

Disco fundraising.

Is disco fundraising even a thing? Yes. Or course it is. You might even know the organizations doing it. They're the ones speaking to the expansive benefit of their work in the community. They are the ones inviting you to the table to be part of the solution, with very little emphasis on the problem. Somehow, under their umbrella, it feels like you, the donor, can make a true difference. The problems they're solving are real and wicked, but they're merely specks on the canvas of what's being built.

Disco fundraisers attract donors with clarity of mission, depth of impact, and the ability to articulate the clear difference made when you invest with them. They lead with possibility. They make generosity feel like a privilege, not an obligation.

The truth is, most people don't want to be dragged into the depths of despair. We know the problems exist. Very real problems like hunger, inequity, environmental crisis, whatever your mission touches, but leaning into panic and doom rarely moves people toward generosity. It moves them toward the couch, the remote, and truthfully, I desire to look away.

So what does disco fundraising actually look like in practice?

Disco fundraising organizations share a few things in common. Their communications lead with impact, not crisis. Their donor appeals answer "look what we accomplished" before they ask "can you help us do more." Their board members talk about the organization at dinner parties because they're genuinely proud to be part of the solution. Their annual reports read like momentum, not survival. You can feel the difference the moment you encounter them.

How to turn up the music in your own organization

If you're not sure where you land on the panic-to-disco spectrum, here are five concrete places to start.

1. Audit your last six months of donor communications. Pull your last six appeals, newsletters, and email campaigns. For each one, ask: did this lead with a problem or with impact? Did it ask for help from a place of scarcity or invite participation from a place of possibility? The ratio you find will tell you more about your fundraising culture than any consultant ever could.

2. Develop your "proof of light" statement. This is one or two sentences that articulate the clear, specific difference your organization makes; not the problem you solve, but what the world looks like because you exist. It becomes the anchor of every appeal, every conversation, every grant narrative, every board member pitch. If you can't say it cleanly in two sentences, your donors can't hold onto it either.

3. Build an impact library. Create a living document — a shared folder, a simple spreadsheet, whatever works for your team — where you collect stories, data points, client outcomes, and donor reflections on a rolling basis. Disco fundraisers never scramble for proof of impact because they're always gathering it. When appeal season comes, they're not starting from scratch. They're curating.

4. Train your board to be ambassadors of momentum. Your board members are your most powerful planned giving cultivators. But board members who can only speak to your need are working at half capacity. Give them the language, the stories, and the genuine confidence to speak about your impact. When a board member can look someone in the eye and say "I serve on this board because of what I've seen this organization do", that's the disco everyone wants to at.

5. Reframe your case for planned giving specifically. Planned giving donors aren't rescuing you. They are investing in a legacy: yours and theirs. The language shifts fundamentally: not "we need resources to survive" but "we're building something worth being part of forever." If your planned giving materials still sound like an emergency, they are quietly working against you every single day.

The bottom line is, the energy has to be real.

Here's something I hear from donors more often than most organizations realize: Will they even be around? Not said out loud, not written in a letter, just quietly sitting there, underneath every legacy conversation. It's the unspoken question that kills planned giving before it starts.

And panic-based fundraising answers that question in the worst possible way. When every communication signals crisis, when every appeal leans on scarcity, donors absorb that energy even when you don't intend it. What reads as urgency to you reads as instability to them. And nobody leaves a legacy gift to an organization they're not sure will be standing.

This is why leading with the light isn't just a feel-good communications strategy. It's the foundation of long-term donor confidence. When your organization consistently communicates impact, momentum, and vision the unspoken question answers itself. Of course they'll be around. Look at what they're building.

That's the difference between fundraising that extracts and fundraising that attracts. One depletes. The other feels like the things to be part of.

Let’s turn up the music.

Disco fundraising isn't about pretending the problems don't exist. It's about refusing to let the problems be the whole story. It's about leading with the light and trusting that donors will follow.

The organizations that do this well don't just raise more money today. They build the kind of identity that makes people want to be part of their story forever.

What's one thing you could do this week to turn up the music?