The Nonprofit World Doesn’t Need More Innovation. It Needs Breathing Room

 Larry Blake Harvey is a nonprofit strategist and fundraiser focused on helping grassroots organizations and local governments across Upstate New York and New England secure the resources they need to lead, build, and win.

There’s a quiet pressure in the nonprofit world that most of us have internalized without realizing it: the sense that whatever we’re already doing isn’t quite enough. Not bold enough, not shiny enough, not new enough to land the grant, excite the donor, or keep pace with what feels like a moving target. And so we adapt. We layer on new programs, reframe existing work in trendier language, or invent value where there’s already plenty, just to stay in the game.

But what if that instinct, especially right now, is pulling us in the wrong direction?

We’re in a moment of deep uncertainty. Funders are re-evaluating priorities. Government budgets are tightening. Political winds are shifting fast. And the organizations most vulnerable to these shifts — grassroots, community-rooted, often Black- and Brown-led — are the same ones being asked to do more with less. Again. In this context, chasing new initiatives for the sake of competitiveness isn’t just unsustainable. It’s a liability. It can dilute impact, strain staff, and leave core operations underfunded, even as funders talk about building power, shifting resources, and investing in equity.

Here’s the hard truth: if we keep encouraging nonprofits to prioritize innovation over infrastructure, we will burn out the very organizations we say we want to uplift.

The work that builds real community power isn’t always exciting on paper. It looks like retaining your core team. Paying rent on time. Investing in leadership transitions. Deepening relationships that don’t show up in your metrics dashboard but are the heartbeat of your mission. These aren’t side issues. They are the work. And they deserve to be funded accordingly.

General operating support is not a luxury. It is the foundation that allows organizations to survive the storm and stay rooted in the communities they serve. And yet, too many funders still treat it as a risk while expecting nonprofits to be nimble, strategic, and scalable at all times.

As a fundraiser, I get the impulse to dress up your ask. To make your proposal sparkle with newness. But the most honest thing many nonprofits could say right now is: we don’t need a new program. We need to strengthen what’s already here. We need time, trust, and unrestricted funding so we can build systems that don’t collapse when priorities shift again.

There’s courage in that kind of clarity. There’s also strategy. Because if a new program isn’t backed by solid infrastructure — by people with the time and capacity to run it well — it can become a liability rather than a success. And that’s a risk too few funders are accounting for.

So if you're writing grants this spring, don’t be afraid to ask for what you really need. Name your operations. Name your stability. Frame it as a strategic choice, because it is. Show how it connects to your mission, how it sustains the work people already trust you to do. You don’t need to reinvent yourself to stay relevant. You need room to breathe, build, and lead.

And to funders reading this: the organizations doing the deepest, most transformative work are not always the loudest. Many are under-resourced, overextended, and making miracles happen with scraps. If you truly want to support systemic change, start by funding the systems that hold people together. Start by trusting the work that isn’t designed to impress you. Start by asking what these organizations need, and then writing the check without attaching a new expectation to it.

We do not build power by funding short bursts of innovation. We build it by sustaining the people and places already holding the line.