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On Friday November 15 I volunteered at my organization’s fall fundraiser.  The event was largely a silent auction that took place during a cocktail hour, followed by dinner and the closing of the auction.  The event typically raises about a quarter of our operating budget, making it rather significant.

I was there from 3:30 until midnight, and my responsibilities varied throughout the night.  With various staff members and other volunteers (brought in by another Bryn Mawr student who had interned with my organization a year or so previously), I helped set up tables with the many silent auction items.  These tended to either be gift baskets that the winner would take home, or pictures and props to illustrate the prize (for instance, the Nalgene and weights that were put out with the voucher for a personal trainer).  Set-up went on for a while; and when we were eventually finished, there was a brief break when people were able to get dressed before the event officially started.

At the start of the event the other volunteers, various staff members, and myself all stayed around the silent auction during the cocktail hour, answering questions about the process or the items, and conversing in general.  The people at the event were a mix of committee and board members, community members prominent in the organization’s work or issue areas, as well as community members with connections to or who were interested in the organization.  At 8pm the cocktail hour ended and we started encouraging people to sit down at their tables for dinner.  At the start of the meal there was a brief set of speakers – our executive director, the event honorees, and a short video – and then dinner continued with a band playing.  Dinner, dancing, and the auction all continued until 10pm, at which point my coworker and I walked around with signs that announced that the silent auction would be closing in fifteen minutes, then ten and five, and then an announcement that the silent auction had closed.  We immediately repeated this in the next fifteen minutes for the super silent auction – which was the same concept as the silent auction, but with much more expensive bid items.

Shortly after the auctions closed people were able to pick up what they had one and the event started to empty.  I stood at the exit with some of my coworkers to thank those leaving, and hand out complimentary packs of coffee with our logo on them.  We continued this until the event ended at midnight, at which point I left in order to catch a train (there was some clean-up left, but my supervisor was very sympathetic to the unfortunate timing of late-night train schedules).

My organization is certainly not alone in holding events like this, where we cater to financial backers rather than invite members of the community who we have connected with through advocacy or public education, or as recipients of grants.  And of course we do have those events – the summit I attended over the summer was one such gathering, and there are other large and small events throughout the year that serve a similar function.  Furthermore, it is not so unreasonable to welcome those community members who have contributed financially or operationally (as in the case of committee or coalition members), especially given that they are continuing to do so at that event.  It is, after all, explicitly a fundraiser; at it we acknowledge our thanks to all those in attendance, but at no point do we credit any backers as honorees of the event; with the exception of our designated individual honoree, who is chosen on the basis of more than just financial commitment. 

Even understanding all that, though, I cannot completely distance myself from the vague unease I feel at events like that.  Perhaps it is my own lack of  acculturation with such groups – having to dress formally was in itself an adventure, let alone making small talk with the people in attendance.  Acknowledging that this may simply be crediting myself with unwarranted insight, but perhaps continuing to feel uncomfortable in such situations is not a bad thing.  Undoubtedly I should endeavor to feel less uneasy about my ability to interact in those social circles, but holding on to that sense of concern about our organizational need to schmooze with those who have the social and financial capital to support us is a healthy dose of perspective.  I believe that everyone in attendance benefits from our work, but they are also clearly not the more at-risk communities that we seek to work with and help; and as such, the compulsion to put on such an upscale event that those communities would have difficulty attending feels wrongly exclusive.  By continuing to feel uneasy, hopefully I can balance the reality of our organizational needs and the not entirely unreasonable rationale for holding a swanky fundraiser, while also keeping in mind the problematic elements of such an event.  Perhaps in the future I will come upon a solution for integrating those concerns into how an event like this is run; for now, it is at least important to be constantly cognizant of them.