In junior high, I once jumped off a table Wonder Woman-style (but without bullet-proof bracelets) to defend another child from being teased. I don’t remember why I was perched on a table in art class, but I do remember the drama of leaping between this bully and his victim. Without hesitating, I knew I had the power to stop the harassment. And I did. At that moment, my nonprofit heart was born.

Although this defining incident taught me I could make a difference, I can remember always being concerned with whatever seemed unfair, inequitable, or just plain stupid: “Why do people litter? Why would people say ugly things because of the color of someone’s skin? Why are some people so rich and other people so poor? And why doesn’t my family ever go on vacation?”

“Life’s not fair,” my mother would say.

“Well, then,” I’d think, “somebody needs to get busy and make it fair!”

At some point, I decided I’d have to fix unfair stuff myself, since too many people didn’t seem to care as much as I did about world problems. At times, I’d get so mad about poverty, racism, sexism, or religious bigotry that I’d feel like punching someone. Since I was raised to be a “good girl,” punching people for prejudice didn’t follow. And as a teenager who volunteered for Special Olympics and adopted the beagle next door when his owner abandoned him, I suspected the part of me that shook my fist — or wagged my finger — at all things stupid and unfair made me no…

Welcome to Research Friday! As part of a continuing weekly series, each Friday we invite a nonprofit expert to highlight a research report or study and discuss how it can inform and improve day-to-day nonprofit practice.

A popular television and print marketing promotion in the 1970’s showcased the “Shell Answer Man,” an all-knowing expert on automotive issues. There seemingly was no end to what the “Man” could answer, based upon research and reason, and it was quite beside the point that Shell is an oil company seeking customers.

In guiding our ASU Lodestar Center, I reflect on this type of marketing because of the inquiries we receive each week for research-based answers to every sort of question imaginable. Like the Shell Answer Man, we respond to dozens of inquiries each month on wide-ranging questions.

Though we do our best to respond to requests, unlike the Shell Answer Man, we are not fueled by the research and marketing budget of a global oil company. Unfortunately, there is little interest on the part of most funders to invest in high quality, methodologically sound research on leadership and philanthropy topics that are so very important to those who lead, manage, and support nonprofits.

Do you know how effective you are?
Find out with our new web-based self-assessment.
…

Ah, September, my favorite month of the year. My birthday is September 22nd and it’s a special day. It falls on either the first day of autumn or the last day of summer, depending on the year. I share my birthday with Scott Baio (whom I loved in Charles in Charge!) and — as my husband will never let me forget — Bilbo Baggins from The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings, among other celebrities. Still, September 22nd has always been my day, in fact, I always considered September my month, though at least 15 of my friends and family also have birthdays in September. I’ve always felt special on my birthday.

Enter September 22, 2006. I was 9 months pregnant, due to pop in just 7 days — I was huge. My husband was graduating with his second bachelor's degree. I spent the day shopping with my mom for a gift and card for him. We attended his final portfolio presentation and then headed off to meet my in-laws for a celebratory lunch before his ceremony. Most of our friends’ and families’ comments to me that day were, “Wow, you look like you’re not going to make it to your due date!” Or, “Are you getting excited/nervous/ready to get it over with, etc.?” I’m sure a few of them wished me happy birthday and even gave me a gift, though that’s not how I remember it.

As I sat wedged into an auditorium seat watching my husband graduate, my feet ached, and I had to go to the bathroom for the umpteenth time that day. I slipped off my shoes to rest my feet. By the time…

Welcome to Research Friday! For this week’s post, we welcome Dr. Gordon Shockley, who describes the work he and colleague Peter Frank are doing on social innovation. As always, we welcome your comments, feedback and suggestions!

Government has a rich legacy of social entrepreneurship. In the 20th century, it orchestrated large-scale social change when it had the capacity — the resources, expertise, and available political, social, and economic institutions — to do so. Consider some examples from American policy history. In response to the Great Depression in the 1930s, President Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s administration enacted the nation’s first-ever social policy with the programs of the Social Security Act. The U.S. federal government’s social innovations reached new heights with President Lyndon B. Johnson’s Great Society programs of the 1960s. The U.S., as well as the national governments of much of the developed world, robustly practices variants of high-capacity governmental social innovation today, such as the myriad programs countering the global Great Recession.

There is also a distinguished history of social innovation in the U.S. from the private, non-governmental civil society partnering with government. For example, many of the reforms from the Progressive Era in the early 20th century depended on action from both government and charities. As Camilla Stivers (2000) puts it, “Women reformers recognized that…

Once upon a long time ago, North America was bursting with animals that were really big. Mammoths, mastodons, giant sloths — animals we only know about from their old bones and our good imaginations. The birds were over-sized as well, and when the huge animals died, giant vultures with 20-foot wingspans would swoop down to feast on their carcasses.

And then, they vanished. For reasons scientists still theorize about, most of these large animals went extinct rather quickly. The huge vultures, once plentiful, with all varieties of Eagles, Teratorns, and giant condors, were suddenly hungry. Their food sources gone, the giant vultures soon followed the animals into mass extinction.

Except one: The California Condor.

The California Condor is the sole surviving member of the Gymnogyps genus, a castaway from the Pleistocene epoch. It’s the largest flying bird in North America. If you see one sitting in a tree, you might remark that it is the ugliest bird you’ve ever seen. But when you see it flying, unfettered in the open sky, you’ll undoubtedly think it is one of the most beautiful sights you’ll ever witness. It has a wingspan of nearly ten feet and can soar for miles without a single flap.

Condors survived over the ages because they found new food sources, such as beached whales and dead cows, and didn’t have enemies. Until they did: people. Electric power lines, lead poisoning (bullets…