Other Duties as Implied: Vocational Awe in the Nonprofit Sector

I first learned about the concept of vocational awe reading Fobazi Ettarh’s article “Vocational Awe and the Lies we Tell Ourselves” in the online journal In the Library with the Lead Pipe.  

Ettarh asserts, “‘Vocational awe’ refers to the set of ideas, values, and assumptions librarians have about themselves and the profession that result in beliefs that libraries as institutions are inherently good and sacred, and therefore beyond critique … I would like to dismantle the idea that librarianship is a sacred calling; thus requiring absolute obedience to a prescribed set of rules and behaviors, regardless of any negative effect on librarians’ own lives.”

For our purposes, I think we can replace “librarianship” with a whole host of other job titles or roles in the nonprofit sector.  I myself have worked in a bunch of libraries, both government and nonprofit, but have also worked in program management and fund development for other types of nonprofits.  Whether you are a program manager, social worker, fundraiser, or director, if you believe in your professional cause, you are at risk for vocational awe and you may be susceptible to behaviors that harm not only yourself, but the sector as a whole.

Consider, for a moment, if any of the following that Ettahr says feels familiar: 

“Because the sacred duties of freedom, information, and service are so momentous, the library worker is easily paralyzed. 

In the face of grand missions of literacy and freedom, advocating for your full lunch break feels petty.

And tasked with the responsibility of sustaining democracy and intellectual freedom, taking a mental health day feels shameful.

Awe is easily weaponized against the worker, allowing anyone to deploy a vocational purity test in which the worker can be accused of not being devout or passionate enough to serve without complaint.”

Formatting added for emphasis.

Have you said, “Well, I didn’t go into this field for the money,” or accepted that joke when someone else has said it?  Do you indulge people when they describe your work as a noble calling?  Does it feel kind of good?

Like teachers using their own money to buy things for their classrooms, library staff taking pay cuts and removing themselves from benefit plans to save money and preserve operating hours, or social workers missing out on time with their own families to help other families, many different jobs in the public or social sector have individuals doing things that then become the expectation for all of us.  After all, what’s more important — solving the world’s complex problems? Or little old you?

When I first became a librarian, I was ready for all the exciting things it entailed — being a leader in the community, advocating for freedom of speech, ensuring the protection of patron privacy, and, perhaps my most favorite, being an intellectual freedom fighter who stood against book bans at all costs.  Consider for a moment that this was 2006, when the average number of library books challenged by community groups or community members for removal from a library was about 200 titles a year, according to the American Library Association’s Office of Intellectual Freedom.  In 2024, 2,452 unique titles were put up for censorship or removal from libraries.  In other words, I was overconsumed with the idea at the time when it wasn't even a real issue. I actually never dealt, firsthand, with a book challenge at all.

As I got older and more experienced, I mellowed a little.  For example, when librarians were being cheered for administering Narcan to members of the public using the library, I was hesitant.  Was that our job?  I worked for a county library system that used (and I do mean used) library staff as disaster response staff during hurricanes.  Was that our job?  After seeing my colleagues sent to MANAGE hurricane shelters based on a few hours of video training, staying for days because no other staff came to relieve them, hearing stories of verbal abuse and threats of violence from the public, and observing my once cheerful and optimistic colleagues, now sullen, describe their experiences, more than one of whom was diagnosed with PTSD as a result of their experience, I have my answer.  It is absolutely not our job.

Here’s the thing: It feels great to be perceived as the hero.  It’s rad as hell to work for an organization or a whole industry that people feel gratitude and nostalgia for.  It’s even kind of okay when people make assumptions about you because of your job that automatically ingratiates you to them and their community.

But the other side of the coin is that being the hero is not in your job description.  People might be so thankful because they get the service you offer for free, but for your organization to provide free services, they think they have to pay you really poorly.  And every organization does it, so going from a nonprofit organization that rescues homeless animals to one that provides food for those in need to one that provides social services doesn’t do you much good because we’ve all accepted that $32,000 is all they can pay, and you can take it or leave it.  We want so desperately to use our Master of Library Science or Master of Social Work or Master of Arts Management degree that we’ll take what we can get.  The sector knows this.  And exploits it.

So if you feel selfish asking for more money, expecting more money, feeling like you deserve more money, please stop.  You probably do deserve more money.  And so does the person who will eventually replace you.  

Short of taking over every board of trustees of every nonprofit in the universe and demanding better pay, what can we do?

We’re not going to solve vocational awe and nonprofit compensation overnight, but we can stop facing them alone. Real change is possible only if we come together in conversation, in reflection, and in solidarity. That’s why I’ve partnered with Shannon Parris to host a discussion about vocational awe and how to lead without losing yourself.

For the record, I now carry Narcan in my purse. This is a decision I have made as a private citizen in this world, not as an expectation of my job.