Worse Than the Pandemic? Yes.
The room was full of experienced, grounded nonprofit leaders, many of whom weathered the darkest days of the COVID crisis. They remember what it felt like to shut down overnight, pivot to survival mode, and keep creating against the odds.
But what’s happening now, many of them told us, feels much worse. Why? Because this time the blows are diffuse, deliberate, and ongoing, death by a thousand cuts.
Federal grants that once anchored core programs have been abruptly revoked or frozen. Entire categories of funding are under threat. Attacks on equity, inclusion, and truth-telling are leaving arts and culture organizations, especially those committed to a more genuinely inclusive narrative of America, wondering if their very missions will soon be deemed political liabilities.
The domino effect is real. Even groups that never received direct federal funds are watching philanthropic partners step back as federal resources disappear upstream and ideological, reputational, and even legal attacks intensify. The shockwaves are hitting everyone.
And yet — despite all this — these leaders continue to lead.
A Community of Moral Courage
The leaders we met with spoke candidly about how much they are having to juggle and carry right now, how intensely they worry for the future of their organizations. Their teams are stretched. Their boards are grappling with how to respond.
But what shone through repeatedly was this: they are not backing down.
“There is an atmosphere of fear everywhere you go now, and the temptation is to hide under the ice until the threat goes away,” one participant said. “But we won’t hide — we need to be on top of the ice, pounding on it, telling our story.”
“We can’t scrub our websites of DEI work — our work is DEI,” another participant said. A third added, “If we took away our equity message, there would be nothing left.” And a fourth: “Everyone being attacked right now works in the theater, works in the arts, we can’t ignore that.”
From large to small, cultural to arts, these organizations are choosing to lean into their missions, not retreat. They are serving binational communities, conserving diverse narratives and histories, producing unapologetically inclusive programming, bringing people together, and repatriating stolen cultural artifacts. They are doing the work that helps society remember what dignity, beauty, and truth feel like.
They are holding on to their values, not because it’s safe, but because it’s necessary.
What Arts Organizations Need Now
If you’re reading this as a fellow funder, policymaker, or civic leader, here’s what these organizations told us they need from us right now:
- Unrestricted, multi-year funding. Core support for trusted partners builds real resilience at a moment when that’s desperately needed.
- Trust. Simplified application and reporting processes help mightily amid all the complexity, and they can still be accountable.
- Investment in people. Fund staff, not just programs. Leadership, operations, and capacity are not “overhead” — they’re lifelines.
- Public affirmation. Stand with the arts. Talk about how vital it is to our community and national well-being. Speak up when their work is attacked. Visibility from trusted allies matters.
- Shared resources. Artists and nonprofit leaders need each other — and need us — to build networks of support, idea exchange, and mutual aid.
At Prebys Foundation, we are thinking deeply about what it means to be a funder in this moment. Each of these answers provides a clue.
The Power of Narrative — and the Responsibility to Tell It
One of the quieter themes of our discussion was this: the arts and culture are uniquely positioned to change the story we tell about who we are.
In an era when isolation, fear, and polarization dominate, amid what one participant called the “zero sum culture of I,” the arts and culture invite us into connection. Into imagination. Into empathy.
They remind us of our shared humanity. And they are doing this work even when their own funding, safety, and standing are at risk.
It is proud, important work, the work of a culture seeking its way forward in a profoundly challenging time, and of a democracy fighting for the survival of its loftiest ideals.
A Portal Forward
At the start of this piece, I quoted author Arundhati Roy, who wrote at the height of the pandemic that such moments can be “a portal, a gateway between one world and the next.” (A concept Micah Parzen and I explored together on the Stop & Talk podcast last year.)
This, too, is a portal moment.
We can’t afford to walk through it clinging to outdated models of funding, hierarchy, or disengagement. Nor can we walk through it timidly, quietly hoping for the best. The stakes — for our arts organizations, our civic life, and our cultural soul — are too high.
Instead, let’s go through together. Boldly. Transparently. With moral courage.
“More than ever” has become one of my least favorite phrases, so tired is it from overuse. But here it is apt. More than ever, we need art and culture — and institutions — that convey the rich sweep and stunningly diverse tapestry of our American and our human story.
Let’s fund what matters, tell stories that heal, and remember that in every great civilization, the arts were not what came last — they were what helped people endure, and then thrive.
