An Inside Look into Fundraising for Start-Ups. The Most Vulnerable Time In a Female Founder's Career.

Last week Friday was International Women’s Day. Throughout the course of the day, I found my LinkedIn feed inundated with posts from various types of organisations - large corporations and SMEs - either advertising their efforts at gender inclusion or acknowledging/celebrating the achievements of women within a diverse array of fields and categories. From business successes to athletic accomplishments alongside various music awards and entertainment industry accolades granted to women who have achieved public recognition for their work.

Interspersed between all of these branded posts were posts and articles written by women describing challenges that they’ve overcome, experiences they’ve had working in their various fields as well as advice to other young women navigating similar journeys and pathways.?

Some of these were motivational, inspirational and aspirational. Many were vulnerable and emotive. Describing the perils of misogyny, sexual harassment and toxic power structures that they have had to endure and overcome to get to where they are today. Some described the deep anxiety they felt and feel at the prospect of openly communicating these experiences and expressing how deeply it’s impacted their inner worlds, self-esteem and relationships with others. However, in light of the sense of betrayal, isolation and loneliness they felt in response to the silence or naive ignorance of the people around them at the time - friends and colleagues who knew and could see what was happening to them but never spoke up or advocated on their behalf - were now choosing to openly share their stories in the hope that it may help someone else.?

I felt a rush of mixed emotions in response to reading all of these posts. Branded and individual stories alike. At first, it was a sense of hope, optimism, pride and solidarity. Then my feelings began to take on the shape of a kind of heartwrenching sadness rising to the surface of my psyche and eventually settling into a kind of debilitating anxiety mixed in with sudden bursts of deep-seated anger and rage. Finally, culminating into an overarching sense of disillusionment and paralytic helplessness. ?

I’ve been contracting as a researcher/storyteller/designer for about 8 years now and running the business as a sole proprietor. Along the way, I have tried applying for more stable, long-term permanent positions within larger organisations that could resource longer runways and bigger, better-qualified teams than what the start-up world often can. I’ve not been successful at this so far. I’ve also tried and failed at founding my own business ventures bannered under the umbrella of various NPCs (non-profit companies) that I registered but could never quite get off the ground. Most of these business ventures were creative enterprise or social impact related because this is where my skill set is best applied.

I spend the bulk of my time not actually doing the work that I’m best at which is researching, interviewing, synthesising and writing/creating media. Or designing products and services and building communities around them who would benefit from the creation of solutions to problems that these products and services could / would enable. This happens because I am pretty much constantly, continuously trying to find funding. Funding to cover my own home-based needs. Funding for the projects that I’m invited to work on. Funding for projects, ideas and proposals that I’ve self-initiated and would like to develop into long-term, financially sustainable businesses.?

Funding to buy time. Funding to buy security. Funding to buy the freedom to experiment, to test and develop ideas into tangible solutions that meet the needs of the people, communities and ecosystems that these ideas seek to solve problems on behalf of or (preferably) alongside. Funding to network. Funding to build relationships. Funding to explore ideas with other people and create things together. Jip. Funding to buy all these same things for other people so that they're able to work with me too. Otherwise, we all just burn out. Sigh. Funding to fix my car.?Funding to order a new pair of prescription glasses.

Whether you’re a woman, a man, non-binary. Working in the tech sector, the arts and entertainment sector. Or a mix of many things. Private sector. Public sector. Any and all other sectors, categories and divisions. The need for funding is ubiquitous. And, lacking funding and resources (tangible and non-) to do the job as well as you would like to is also commonplace. Whether you live in the global south or the global north or are hopping between, the need to raise funds for whatever venture you’re about to embark on is also shared. However, the process, loopholes, opportunities and probabilities for accessing funding do change according to whatever mix of the above circumstances you find yourself in. The language, format and structure of your communications will also change depending on many of the above circumstances.

For example, if you’re working in the art world and you’re wanting to set up an art exhibition, an author wanting to write a book or a filmmaker wanting to produce a film. You would write a proposal. If you’re a tech founder wanting to launch a product into the digital ecosystem, you would compile a pitch deck. if you’re a content creator and you’re wanting to sell advertising to create and distribute a story, you would put together a media kit. If you’re a social entrepreneur or running any kind of community-oriented project, you’re likely to find yourself writing grant applications.

Primarily, if you live in the global south you’re writing to organisations set in the global north to find funding for creative endeavours. If you live in the global north, you're likely to have more access to home-based funding from public sector grants. If it’s a tech start-up with scaleable potential, north and south - the private sector jumps in to grow the idea in exchange for equity so your options open up quite significantly.

Even so, competition for resource wherever you go and whoever you are is fierce. So, beyond figuring out how to communicate or write the “right type of” application to get you past the gatekeepers of resource and into the “magical abundant land of milk and honey” so that your idea, story or solution can make its way out of your imagination and into the real world - you also have to figure out how to stand out from the crowd. Most (successful) people do this through networking.?

Networking. In the modern world, there are two types of networking that you must do. Most successful ventures work best utilising a hybrid approach: digital and in-person. For digital networking, we have social media platforms like Linkedin which does help (kind of) ease the burden by reducing the cost of the process and the longevity of your investment in attending meet-ups. Writing this blog, for example, costs me time but saves petrol and event fees. But, there’s only so far it can get any of us. And it’s seldom anywhere near to closing an actual business deal. Not even for largish SMEs and well-established agencies.?

The algorithm favours time spent on the platform so it will boost platform articles and videos over a post or shared link. Still. People are unlikely to engage and actually read the whole thing unless you have a high-stake profile (ie. come across as someone who can give them something) or you’ve met in person and connected human-to-human. Without that, similar to having a grant approved or the achievement of a successful funding application. You’re just another name on a very long list of people who all have really good ideas, thoughts and opinions.?

In 2022, armed with a bundle of savings that I’d gathered through one steady international storytelling/design contract whose currency exchange allowed me to weather the pandemic storm and keep a little aside. I decided to give getting my own NPC off the ground a real solid try. My design contract was coming to a close. I knew it was. And with the post-pandemic recession looming ahead, I really wanted to try and create an expanded business structure that would simultaneously give me the freedom to test and evidence some innovative media communication models and simultaneously gift me more security than what contracting for small design agencies and start-ups had been able to. It was risky to spend my savings in this way but with the very small network of business contacts that I had at the time, my long-term livelihood prospects were on rocky ground anyway. ?

So, I did what I thought the most sensible thing to do was. I took a break from doing my actual work and went on a conference tour. Travelling cheaply by bus where possible, budget flights when not. Sleeping in dorm rooms or friend's couches by night and wearing my nicest full-length, professional-looking, black two-piece by day. I went to 22 conferences across Subsaharan Africa, the UK and the EU. There is so much that I learnt by doing this that undeniably was a priceless education. Think of it as a master's degree in life. My most valuable insights were learnt by observing how various kinds of closed business ecosystems work.?

How the language (read: jargon) and presentation of ideas (within various ascribed frameworks) differ between and how often, social acceptance or assimilation within each of these ecosystems largely depends on a mastery of relevant language and set of frameworks and processes. So that’s it, find the money to get yourself to whatever place people are congregating at, memorize the jargon and develop a basic understanding of the frameworks they ascribe to then your foot is the door. But… The part where you actually get to eat food from the table. That's an entirely different ballgame (excuse the pun.) ?

I think it’s already largely common knowledge but this was something that I had to learn the hard (and expensive) way. Real actual networking. The kinds that land you a business deal or the money to fund a startup idea don’t happen at conferences. At the conference itself, you’re likely to learn a few interesting things from talks and panel discussions. Who the big names in the sector are, industry updates, the latest research on best practices etc. But the relationships you form that enable you to close deals or be bumped up the list of job applicants all happen after the conference. A swarm of people loosening their ties, or taking off their heels and making their way out of the event venue and into the surrounding pubs and restaurants to drink an ice-cold’a something. Dropping the professional facade, this is also where all the real human conversations happen. And this, for me, was where everything took on a dangerous turn.?

Let’s just say it outright. I’m a young, white woman with blonde hair and blue eyes. I was 28/29 at the time. I didn’t have any kind of large organisational backing. And, most of the high-profile conferences that I went to were attended by a majority of men who were at least 10+ years my senior. A few women who were about 15+ years older. My assumption is that it probably takes quite a bit more time to rise to the same level of professional development. A myriad of reasons but one being that many of the women who were there had children and husbands. They’d stay for after drinks. One or two max but then would return home to their families. I’d try to connect during that time but it was a lot harder. They seemed less open to talking. Men in these spaces were often a lot friendlier on the outset. They listened to my ideas and appeared to be impressed by them. Then, they'd hand me their business cards and offer to buy me another drink.?

By drink three or four which I'd try and decline but often didn't because “whew, this is the most relaxed I've felt all day.” Conversations would veer away from “the great idea” towards topics of a more personal nature: relationships, work environment challenges and professional pressures. Now. It’s my job as a researcher and designer. I’m conditioned to and I've practiced (many years) of asking questions and listening. Listening. Really being listened to, sadly, isn’t something that many people are accustomed to. So, the endeavour creates a kind of psychological safety and emotional intimacy. Next thing, you’re hearing about home life and marital struggles. Loneliness. An all-pervasive loneliness. Modern society is riddled with it.?

Last rounds ring. And between month 1-3, there’s still enough money in my bank account. I’ve got time. So calmly, I order an Uber and say goodbye. A day later, I message the number on the card and enquire whether they’d be interested in a meeting to discuss my project further. They say, “yes, let’s meet up for another drink after work.” I try to establish a boundary. “How about an in-office meeting or a zoom call?” Pushback. “I’m a very busy person.” Sigh. “Me too.” I want to say. The meeting never arrives. Or it does, but it’s grossly uncomfortable. That neither of us are there with the same intention in mind is clear. I leave. Month 4-6. A ton of rejected applications. Piling travel costs. Wasted time. My savings account is dipping lower and lower towards 0. I begin to feel anxious and panicked. I’m starting to make decisions in a more rushed and less intuitive way.?

By month 8, however, thankfully I’m also starting to build up a bit of a network. A few prospective opportunities are opening up here and there. Discussions around collaborating with a well-established organisation. And an invite to speak on a panel alongside a group of prominent political leaders in East Africa. By now, I’ve sacrificed a lot of time away from home. My bank account really only has enough in it for a flight and about a week or two’s worth of expenses. “I just need some surety.” I say to the organisation. “Don’t you trust us?” They respond. I’m looking at prospective employment and funding opportunities at home in South Africa. It doesn’t look good. More rejected applications. Reports that read: “unemployment rates in South Africa have reached a peak.” I book the flight.?

I’m not ready to talk about what happened publicly quite yet. But what I can say, is that the topic of the panel I was invited to speak on was “Gender Based Violence” as part of the “16 Days of Activism against Gender-Based Violence” campaign that runs annually. Ironically, I never made it to the panel discussion. Instead, I found myself trapped in the same room that I’d been trying to burn down. I remember, scrolling down the very long list of network contacts over my (what became a) 11 month conference tour across the world. There wasn’t a single person on that list that I felt safe enough to call for help. Metabolizing an astronomical amount of shame and self-blame, after a few days, I gathered up the courage and managed to call some friends back home in South Africa. They pooled some money together and brought me home. I’m one of the lucky ones. The others are all still there, left behind. ?

The year that followed (2023) was one of the toughest years, I think I have ever faced. And, I’ve faced a few tough ones. Fear, crippling fear, depression, anxiety and panic attacks, flashbacks. All the while having to keep my head above water. Hustling for contracts. I managed to find two. It was intense and all-consuming. The start-up world by its very nature is fast-paced, high pressure. And, I was operating on 20% capacity at most. Logic, rationale, creativity and compassion are all qualities that are incredibly difficult to uphold when you’re in that state. I was struggling to focus my attention. Struggling to feel safe around other people, struggling to trust that my contracts would pay out when they said they would and that I’d be able to find another when the time came. Struggling to maintain a social life so that I wouldn’t become completely isolated. Struggling to maintain an exercise routine because my body itself felt frozen stiff. Dating. Not even a prospect for me.?

Wow. That was awful. There is no platitude, accolade or “celebration of achievement and strength” that will make up for that degree of suffering. It’s one thing getting out. Trying to rejoin a healthy, stable community and rebuild an entire life from the ground up. Yoh. Next level. I found myself bitter, resentful, angry and jealous of my peers and colleagues who from an outsider's lens appeared to have so much more work and social support. All who also appeared to be more resilient, happier and thriving in their personal and professional lives while I remained miserable, isolated and struggling. It may not be true but this is an outsider's lens which is what I felt like at the time. Comparison game. It’s such a trap. However, this is important to note: more than being angry with anyone else, I was mostly angry with myself. “If I’d just worked harder,” “If I’d just been smarter,” “If I’d just not left home.” “Maybe… If I just stopped dreaming such big dreams. All these stupid ideas of mine.” And so forth and so forth.?I actually really needed help. I knew it. Friends said it. But, I couldn't afford it.

I’m so grateful to be able to speak and write about this now. It’s a lot easier in hindsight. When I was in the thick of it. Impossible. I simply had no idea how to articulate what had happened and what I was going through - internally, socially, professionally and financially - as a result. I was riddled with too much fear and self-blame. If I could wave a magic wand and go back in time to set up the ideal conditions for my healing and recovery... Of course, I’d have preferred not to have had to go through that process to begin with. But since it was a series of vulnerabilities that lead to that one tragic outcome. Rather than one specific event or bad decision. I’m not sure exactly where in the timeline of events, I’d have been able to make a different decision given the state of the world as it is. I was making the best decisions possible with what I knew at the time.

So, there is no magic wand to wave. The economic system, the social system and all who govern access to resource are granting access based on predetermined, reductionist sets of criteria in the face of tense competition. It’s a broken bridge. And on the other side of it - the ways in which workplaces and businesses operate within these constraints are oftentimes unconsciously determined and driven by generational legacies of oppression, segregation, war and scarcity. I don’t know. There’s no way to change all of that instantly. However, I do genuinely feel that there are more identity-independent good actors than bad actors operating within all of these systems and that most people are just doing the best that they can within the constraints that they must contend with.

What I also know is that there is no type of human more vulnerable than a woman who has run out of money and has no one she feels safe enough to reach out to. Because at the end of the day, it’s not just her livelihood on the line. It’s her body. Her spirit. Her soul. All the beautiful things about her that make her shine so bright. One misstep and for sure, there’s some opportunist out there just waiting to dull that light. I’m not saying that we should live in fear. Because that doesn’t help either. What I am saying is this. If you love women and are genuinely invested in inclusion and empowerment. Make home (local community) strong. Make home (local community) safe. So, that women and young girls aren’t having to reach out to outside places for foundational support to sustain themselves and/or bring their ideas to life.

How? If you have the ability, bandwidth and capacity. Start a business. Hire people. Invest in people. Rethink and reconsider recruitment pipelines. If you know that your neighbour has limited social and family support. Reach out. Share your social capital. Therapy, mental health and somatic healing. Can we figure out how to make this more financially accessible? Artists, musicians, creatives or neurodivergents who don’t fit into the typical mould of what’s required for business success. What can we do to develop and support their industries more? So that the music and art we love is made by people who aren’t terrified constantly that they’re not going to make the rent.

And men (or masculine-dominant folk). If you’re really committed to supporting women (or feminine-dominant folk). Here’s another critical place where you can step up. ?Do what you do best. Protect us. Offer containment without trying to possess, control, own or equally painful - avoid. Do the inner-healing work that needs to happen alongside the inner-healing work that we have to do to create healthy and abundant lives, careers and relationships. And the most critical of all? Get the money and funding into the avenues it needs to reach. So that we can all do what we're best at.?

That’s how we heal.?When we have strong foundations, strong communities and strong relationships within them.?When we’re sharing information with each other and opening up or creating doors that people can access. It’s not a slapdash build, scale and sell project. It takes time. Patience. Commitment. Hearing the hard truths. Real lives. Real people. Lots of hurt and trauma. But so much light waiting on the other end of that collective healing: a bridge that isn’t broken. I’m excited. It's collaboration. Not competition. Let's do this thing.

I'm ready.

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