Positioning has nothing to do with why you’re better and everything to do with why you matter. And philanthropic leaders can’t afford not to understand the difference.
When I first started advocating for positioning as a core part of brand strategy, one of the most common pieces of feedback I got from my peers in philanthropy was: tread carefully. Positioning is inherently competitive, they said, a tool of companies that are driven by profit, market share, and dominance, and entirely at odds with the spirit of philanthropy. It’s a vanity project, they said. Navel-gazing dressed up as marketing. We are not in the business of proving how and why we’re superior. Our focus should remain on serving people and organizations and decentering ourselves from the work.
Over the decade that I've worked with grantmaking organizations, I've come to believe differently. While it has its origins in the for-profit world, positioning is not a tool for ruthless competition or for burnishing an organization’s ego. It is a rigorous process of understanding the particular value of any organization, nonprofit or otherwise, in relation to the world around it.
The philanthropic sector is full of organizations with consequential missions, sophisticated grantmaking strategies, and deep expertise accrued over years. Many of them have enjoyed prestigious reputations as history-making institutions. But none of these presumed markers of excellence automatically translate into a compelling proposition for the grantees, partners, and policymakers whose trust they need. When I asked a client what set them apart from their peers, the response was clear and confident: “We have one of the biggest endowments in our field.” When I asked, “But why does that matter?”, the answers started getting noticeably fuzzier.
I’ve seen this over and over again. Superlatives become a stand-in for genuine value. We’re the oldest, the wealthiest, the most experienced. These are descriptions of an institution, not explanations of its value to the world. The size of your endowment matters less than what you do with the money you have. The historical milestones you played a part in orchestrating matter less than what that history means to people today. Superlatives by themselves are seductive and often prevent leaders from pushing past them to the real value they provide.
The cost of not knowing your value creeps up on you in the form of missed opportunities rather than spectacular failures. Understandably, it's hard to count what you never had, so the status quo wins. But two problems grow over time. First, the way you describe your value drifts further from what matters to the people and world around you. Second, if you don’t articulate your value clearly, your audiences will be left to guess or worse yet, others will be free to co-opt your story for their agenda.
Positioning is the remedy, a disciplined way of understanding your internal strengths in relation to the world around you. What makes you distinct among your peers? What makes you relevant to the times we live in? What makes you resonant with the people who matter? And finally, what makes you a credible organization worthy of trust and attention? At the intersection of these four questions lies your value, in the truest sense of the word.
It’s worth reminding ourselves of what the word “value” means: “relative worth, utility, or importance.” It has nothing to do with why you’re better and everything to do with why you matter.
Philanthropic organizations pursue ambitious and necessary work while often assuming that their worth, utility, and importance are self-evident. The dismantling of USAID in 2025 offers a sobering reminder that even institutions with demonstrable contributions cannot assume their value will speak for itself. USAID was caught in the crosshairs of a political battle that was outside of its control, so its demise can’t be blamed on communications alone. But former senior communications officer William Herkewitz, in a New York Times op-ed, argued that USAID's failure to tell Americans the story of its work left it vulnerable. His reflection raises uncomfortable questions for philanthropic leaders: if you don’t articulate why your work matters to the people whose support you depend on, who will do it for you?
Philanthropic leaders are driven by impact: the trust they earn from grantees, the partnerships they build, and the policies and narratives they help shape. But realizing this impact requires more than doing valuable work. It requires understanding what makes the work valuable to others, and making that value understood. Far from being a vanity project, positioning is an act of stewardship.
Sruthi is currently doing a reported series on positioning and brand strategy in the social sector and is seeking perspectives from nonprofit leaders, funders, philanthropic advisors, and leaders of funder collaboratives. If this essay resonates with you, she'd welcome a conversation. Reach out to her here.