The "Girl Boss" Grew Up Into the "Nonprofit Boss" — and She's Still Just as Toxic

Fans of Nicole Daniels's Nonprofit Boss character watch her videos like tiny installments of a horror movie. They leave comments on her Instagram and TikTok about how "triggering" she is, how she activates their "fight or flight," how she makes them laugh but also "physically recoil." Recently, a fan told Daniels that they take her videos into therapy because the character so perfectly captures the candy-coated manipulation favored by their own overly familiar supervisor.

The Nonprofit Boss is the next evolution of the Girl Boss. Her communication style — gentle, approachable, and maternal — is used as a guise to distract from the many different ways she's trying to squeeze the most out of her employees, whether it's getting them to work late and on weekends, or trek to the office during a demolition or a natural disaster.

At the height of the Girl Boss era in the 2010s, "She-EOs" everywhere made big promises about workplace culture that few could actually deliver on, because structural and institutional sexism can't be fixed just by placing a woman or two at the helm of a company. Instead, many Girl Bosses went down in flames, remembered mostly for their out-of-touch leadership than their actual achievements. And the Nonprofit Boss — who ensures employees that they're all a family while simultaneously denying their time-off requests — is essentially repeating the same mistakes.

Experts Featured in This Article

Chanelle Howell is a reverse recruiter, employment interview coach, and career consultant.

Career coach Chanelle Howell says she can appreciate the "more relaxed energy" that one of these bosses might bring to a workspace. "But this is still a professional setting," she tells PS. "These are my colleagues. My family that I celebrate holidays with, that have known me and seen me through good times and bad, and unconditionally support me, those are folks at home, not in the office."

Each of Daniels's Nonprofit Boss posts follow a similar formula: a tight shot of Daniels with a vibrantly patterned scarf knotted around her neck, and a separate, differently patterned scarf hanging loose over her gray cardigan. She's usually noisily snacking on something plucked from the specialty aisle at Whole Foods, like popcorn sprinkled with nutritional yeast, sheets of dried nori, plantain chips, or a full tin of sardines. She looks into the camera and coos directly at you, her employee, who's been called in for a private meeting to discuss the importance of "the mission," how to "hold space," and — oh yeah — why you won't be getting that time off you requested for your grandmother's funeral. Frowny face!

Daniels, who is based in Los Angeles, posted a Nonprofit Boss video in January that summed up the dysfunctional nature of this type of workplace dynamic especially well. "Nicoley — I hope it's OK I called you that," she begins. It's the day after devastating wildfires knocked out the electricity in the LA office, and she tells you in soothing tones that while her heart is "just so heavy right now," she also sees you're working from home. She says there are a bunch of candles and an air purifier making the air in the office feel "really safe" and "super cozy," even though there's no electricity.

"I think I'm just wondering, kind of just to take a temperature check — if that's not too insensitive! — are you planning on coming in later? Will you be in the office tomorrow? Either way, zero pressure from me, right? Do what is safest for you," she says, nodding up and down like a very understanding bobblehead.

"I think what I'll just offer you at this really challenging time is this idea about fires," she continues. "They burn bright and they burn strong. And that should be how you feel about the mission . . . The choice to come into work is a way to say 'the mission matters more than me.'"

Nonprofit Boss energy isn't unique to nonprofits. Workers in any field are vulnerable to this kind of manipulation from managers. But it may be especially familiar to nonprofit workers, many of whom stay because they feel aligned with the social impact or "mission" of their organization, not because of the great pay or benefits — similar to the way many companies in the Girl Boss era played up their female leadership as a reason to support them regardless of potentially unethical practices.

"I think unfortunately the character highlights the really frustrating experience of being in a job that you care about and having that care be taken advantage of," Daniels tells PS. "There's a genuine level of investment, and that's why it hurts even more when someone treats you like shit."

One of the slimiest elements of Nonprofit Boss-ery is that she preys on employees' innate desire to feel like part of a community, even a family. You wouldn't betray your family by not showing up for them in their time of need, so why would you ask for time off on Thanksgiving when your work team needs you to be updating spreadsheets and making phone calls?

But regardless of how the Nonprofit Boss tries to make everything personal, Howell emphasizes that work is work for a reason. "As you get more mature in your career, you learn that a lot of things aren't personal," she says. "You're not personally hurting anyone if you need to take a day or a week off. The world will still move."

Daniels's fictional comedic character was shaped by her real-life horror stories, having worked in nonprofits for several years while trying to get her acting career off the ground. She actually started a union at one of those jobs, after several failed attempts at leveling with management over issues like erratic scheduling policies, hours getting cut at the last minute, and an inability to take time off. "I feel like I have thoughtfully and strategically pushed back" against Nonprofit Boss behavior, she says.

Outside of unionizing, though, workers don't have much recourse against a Nonprofit Boss, because she technically doesn't break any rules. She doesn't force her employees to show up to the office in a firestorm, she just makes them feel bad for staying home. And while certain DEI initiatives — already severely under attack — can offer protection against some forms of harassment, they don't often account for this particular brand of workplace toxicity.

"It's using the language of care and a lot of therapy-speak, then turning it around on people to be like, 'This is why you shouldn't be paid, because we care about the mission!'" Daniels says. "That's why she's so grating, because she's often using the right language in a wrong and really weaponized way."

In spite of the many disappointments of modern office culture, surely there must be a way to lead a team compassionately, without being exploitative. At least Howell thinks so. A more informal and friendly workplace doesn't always have to spell danger, she says, and a "low-stakes environment where you're not afraid to ask questions" can be great for growth and development.

But that only works when the boss is able to actually own their role as a boss and not a peer. Instead of acting like you're on the same level, Daniels says, the best thing a boss can do is try to hear their employees. "You are a manager. There is no way around that. So eating in people's faces, offering them your food, inviting them to take a breath isn't going to soften your leadership."

That pressure to "soften" may help to explain why the Nonprofit Boss is so distinctly feminine. Women leaders often feel they have to apologize for their power, or give some of it back, otherwise they risk being judged even harsher as a crone or a bitch. "The male version would probably just be an asshole straight to your face, it wouldn't be wrapped in the package of 'I'm going to invite you to hear that I'm firing you,'" Daniels says.

If Daniels could give the Nonprofit Boss any piece of advice, it would be to actually keep doing what she's doing — just without all the phony affect. In Girl Boss parlance, that means lean in, girl! "If you're turning down someone's time-off request, just do that," she says. "Don't turn it against them, don't guilt them. Some of these things have to be done, I get it."

Daniels regularly hears from people who wonder why the Nonprofit Boss leadership style actually works on them, even if they find it infuriating. Reflecting on her own past work experience, she understands that inner conflict all too well.

"I would get so wrapped up in these microdramas until I realized, like, oof," she recalls, "it is not that deep for a job that pays $19 an hour."

Emma Glassman-Hughes (she/her) is the associate editor at PS Balance. In her seven years as a reporter, her beats have spanned the lifestyle spectrum; she's covered arts and culture for The Boston Globe, sex and relationships for Cosmopolitan, and food, climate, and farming for Ambrook Research.