There’s a phrase I heard so often growing up that it stopped sounding like advice and started feeling like a barrier.

‘It’s not what you know, it’s who you know.’

In the fundraising sector, this idea is often treated as common sense. Relationships matter. Networks matter. Access matters.

But here’s the uncomfortable truth: networks often depend on privilege. And when we overvalue inherited connections, we risk reinforcing inequity in a sector that exists to reduce it.

I grew up in rural Western Sydney, Australia. No one in my family had been to university. No one worked in corporate offices or boardrooms. There were no professional introductions organised over dinner. No quiet explanations of how professional worlds really work. 

Very early on, I learned what inequity feels like – the frustration of being capable, motivated, and ready… but still shut out because of circumstance.

A systemic problem, not a personal one

As I studied social inequity more broadly, particularly the barriers faced by marginalised communities, I realised this wasn’t just my story. It’s many of your stories. It’s systemic.

Opportunity so often depends on networks. And networks usually depend on privilege.

That realisation could have made me give up before I even began. Instead, it clarified something else: what I did have, and how I wanted to use it: a deep sense of fairness, a drive to create change, and a growing curiosity about wealth inequality and the role philanthropy can play in redistribution.

So, instead of worrying about who I knew, I focused on what I knew. I learned everything I could about ethical fundraising. I studied international relations. I volunteered, I interned. I asked questions, I listened. I processed donations and celebrated every AU$50 gift like it was a million.

And guess what? That knowledge, that drive, that attention to ethics and impact, opened more doors than any ‘connection’ ever did. Over time, I worked my way into bigger roles and led more ambitious campaigns. I’m now philanthropy lead at Mary MacKillop Today, and I sit on the Marketing & Growth Committee of Plan International Australia’s Board, helping guide philanthropic strategy at scale.

So let me be clear: it’s not who you know. It’s what you bring. Your expertise, your empathy, your integrity, your commitment to the cause.

This myth still shows up in our job ads

But – and here’s the part we don’t talk about enough: this myth isn’t just a mindset. It shapes who we hire and who feels they belong in fundraising.

You’ve seen the line. ‘Existing donor connections desirable.’ Translation: ‘We want someone who already knows rich people.’ That’s not a strategy, it’s exclusion. It shrinks our talent pool, it reinforces privilege, and it sends a message – intentional or not – to people from rural and remote communities, working-class backgrounds, people with disability, migrants, carers, and anyone who hasn’t had access to elite networks: this sector isn’t for you.

But it is for us.

When I started in fundraising, I didn’t know a single donor. Not one. Now I lead relationships with major donors who support life-changing work in communities across Australia and overseas. Not because I knew them first, but because I built trust, led with integrity, and connected their values to real impact.

Here’s what I believe: if you are passionate about the cause, if you care enough to learn, and if you show up consistently and authentically, donors respond to that. Philanthropy isn’t a closed club. It’s a conversation, and it’s one that anyone with purpose and knowledge can lead.

What we owe the next generation of fundraisers

If our sector is serious about equity, we must examine the barriers within our own profession. We can do better.

Let’s challenge job descriptions that ask for connections over capability.

Let’s mentor emerging fundraisers that may not come from privilege but bring something even more valuable – lived experience, integrity, and fire in their belly.

And to anyone starting out, wondering if you’re ‘connected enough’ to make it fundraising or philanthropy, let me be living proof: you absolutely are.

I keep coming back to a photo of myself at ten years old, dressed as Fred Hollows for a school project. I dare anyone to look at that girl – or to look at their own ten-year-old self – and tell them that they can’t lead change. That they don’t have what it takes – just because of where they come from.

If we want a stronger, more innovative and more equitable fundraising profession, we must stop asking who someone knows and start asking what they bring.

IMAGES: © All images supplied by April de Haan or as cited otherwise