What do small charities CEOs and snow leopards have in common....?!

When we think of leadership, especially in the charitable sector, we often imagine purpose-driven individuals surrounded by a community of changemakers. And while that’s true on the surface, the role of a small charity CEO can be far lonelier than most people realise.....

1. Isolation is built into the role -

Snow leopards are famously elusive, living alone in vast, rugged terrain. In the same way, a small charity CEO often operates in isolation, especially in under-resourced organisations.

There is no one to be vulnerable with, no dedicated HR or finance department to pick up slack. The CEO wears every hat—from strategist to social media manager, from fundraiser to tea maker.

It’s not just a matter of multitasking—it’s a sense of existing in a professional vacuum. Decisions rest squarely on your shoulders, and so does the fallout when things go wrong - and often, there are no other snow leopards to share your anxiety with....

2. Few truly understand your world -

Just as the snow leopard is rarely seen and poorly understood, so too is the role of a small charity CEO misunderstood—even by those closest to them. Board members may not see the day-to-day pressures. Donors might only glimpse polished impact reports. Staff might assume the CEO has more support than they actually do.

The result? A profound sense of “no one really gets what I’m carrying.” Conversations about burnout, fundraising anxiety, or ethical dilemmas often stay locked inside.

3. Constantly navigating treacherous terrain

Snow leopards navigate steep cliffs and unpredictable weather with skill, but at great risk. Likewise, small charity CEOs move through a landscape of funding uncertainty, shifting political environments, and overwhelming community needs. You’re expected to be agile, visionary, and resilient—often without a safety net.

Every misstep can have consequences: losing a funder, alienating a partner, or burning out your only fundraising officer. You’re constantly calculating risks, adapting to change, and forging forward with quiet determination.

4. Survival requires stealth and strategy

Snow leopards survive not through brute force but through strategic movement and deep focus. The same goes for a small charity CEO. You don’t have the luxury of waste - every grant proposal, every new recruit and every campaign must be perfect.

You work quietly behind the scenes, often without the recognition that larger charities or high-profile leaders might get.

There’s rarely a headline. Often, there’s not even a thank you. But your work matters deeply—to your team, your cause, your community.

5. There’s beauty in the solitude

Despite the loneliness, there’s something deeply powerful about being a small charity CEO—just like the haunting beauty of a snow leopard in its element.

You know every inch of your territory. You’re close to the mission. You see the direct impact of your decisions. And when you do encounter others on this path—other solitary CEOs, funders who understand, or a team member who really gets it—the connection is all the more meaningful.

Final thought: from solitude to solidarity

If you’re a small charity CEO, feeling like a snow leopard isn't a sign of weakness—it’s a reality of leadership in the margins.

But remember: even snow leopards aren’t truly alone. They leave tracks, they communicate across distances, and increasingly, they’re finding others in their territory as conservation efforts grow.

So too can you find connection—in peer networks, mentoring relationships, and brave conversations that break the silence.

If you’re reading this and thinking, “Yep, this is me. I am the snow leopard,” take heart.

Yes, it’s lonely at times. Yes, you wish someone else would run that spreadsheet or answer that “quick question” that’s neither quick nor a question. But you're out there making impact, building something from almost nothing, and staying true to your mission in a world that often forgets what truly matters.

You're not invisible. You're incredible.

So, to all the nonprofit snow leopards out there: keep climbing, keep prowling, and keep showing up. You’re rare for a reason.

P.S. Someone should start a support group called “Snow Leopards Anonymous.” Secret meetings. Strong tea. No jargon. 🐾