English Alum Jennifer Harris on Putting the Humanities to Work
Putting the Humanities to Work: A Conversation with UC Davis English Alum Jennifer Harris
Jennifer Harris ‘00 is an alum of UC Davis where she received her bachelor's degree in English with an emphasis in Creative Writing (with a minor in Women Studies). With over 25 years in the social sector—across higher ed, health, and purpose-driven organizations—Jennifer leads JH Collective, Inc., a consulting practice that focuses on narrative leadership, holistic fundraising, and authentic generosity. Jennifer designs and facilitates national and international workshops for individuals, teams, and boards that elevate the role of story in health and wellbeing. This is what she calls “inside, out” work. It is through this lens that she argues the humanities teach us to reckon with ideas, create, synthesize, and move with agility. Jennifer also holds a Master’s degree in Humanities from the University of Chicago, a Certificate in Narrative Health Care from Lenoir-Rhyne University, and training through Duke Integrative Medicine in writing for health.
How would you describe your work, the path that got you there, and the role of the humanities within it? Are there particular misconceptions about what you do? Why do organizations need to concern themselves with their own story?
To the outside world, my professional journey might seem circuitous. After graduate school, I went straight into the “applied humanities” and began working at a nonprofit arts organization. It was a far cry from what I believed working in the arts and humanities would look and feel like. It was cubicle work for the most part. Filling toner in printers. Learning Excel! Yes, this dates me. Administration. Repetition. My creative mind felt bereft—devoid of inspiration. I think this can truly be shocking to humanities graduates: moving from “the life of the mind” to the life of work. So my trajectory ever since reads a bit like a post-impressionistic art piece. Swirls and smudges. Or a found poem (something I first learned at UCD). I moved from nonprofit work to adjuncting at two universities (teaching composition, poetry, liberal studies and topics like: writing in the natural sciences) all the while waiting tables to pay for my teaching habit. It’s true!
The path from then to now is filled with multiple roles in academic medicine from development writer to professional fundraiser, and bridge-builder between inspired ideas and philanthropic investment. It was incredibly generative and wildly exhausting. A mentor once said fundraisers are either “celebrated or soul-crushed.” Humanities-oriented people are sense-makers, innovators, and feelers, and I felt this incongruence often. Fast forward to today, I am now 15 years into self-employment and I have used this opportunity to design life and work that feels more aligned to who I am, how I think, and how I hope to contribute to the world. This feels very “humanistic” to me.
Now, instead of the term ‘fundraiser’ I often call myself a holistic fundraising and communications consultant, for simplicity. The truth is, the work I do is more than just raising money or freelance writing; and “consulting” hardly captures the depth. My business is designed around three intersecting pillars: narrative, holism, and authenticity, and that those three in practice inspire generosity. There is undeniably a through line. After working with over 40 organizations and hundreds of leaders, I have learned that the biggest barrier to fundraising success is often the story we hold about what fundraising actually is and looks like. So as a humanist does, I began to reckon with the philosophy behind this work, the why, the how, and the what, and I shaped my process as a response. I offer clients multiple paths to entry: a project, a journey, a workshop or retreat. But whether they come to me for a one-off or a multi-month journey, they all have the opportunity to experience this mindset and method, one that considers the stories we hold as intimately interconnected to our quality and impact of our work. When someone says, simply: “we need to tell our stories better” or “we need to raise more money,” I bring them inward.
Your work reframes fundraising as something story-driven rather than transactional. How does changing the narrative around fundraising transform organizations?
As I implied above, storytelling is vital because many of the challenges we experience in higher education, health, and social impact work are really grounded in the stories we tell ourselves and each other about what the work is and how we do it. There is an “ick” in fundraising – and for good reason. When I started training boards, deans, doctors, and teams, one of the first things I realized was that we need to demystify this thing we call “the ask.” There was so much mythology. In fact, I asked a room full of doctors once if I gave them every tool that I owned, if they would feel comfortable walking into a coffee meeting or a dinner with friends or colleagues even and speaking with pride about the reason they served, what the organization was aiming to do, and why it mattered…and importantly how much it would cost to deliver on the mission. The room fell silent. This was a huge clue for me. The idea of asking for money triggered internal conflict for many ambassadors to philanthropy—especially when they held a preconceived notion that it was “gross” or “beggary” –instead of vital to social change. This signaled a need for a new story. And this is why I often say, “changing the way we talk about fundraising will change the way we do it.”
For me, it’s all incredibly concentric. And humanities graduates understand concentricity-it’s really interdisciplinary thinking. You will likely catch me writing on a white board during a board training: your story, my story, the story of us (it’s a hat tip to Marshall Ganz public narrative work). At the end of the day, it is truly this story-oriented framework that lends itself to meaningful relationships that translate to generosity.
Also, and importantly, doing “story work,” deep story work, actually fosters creative and compassionate leadership, purpose-driven teams, and stronger communities. It’s the medicine we need now, and really always. It transforms and organizations, yes. But it actually transforms us. And that’s the real impact. Healthier leaders create healthier worlds.
How did your time at UC Davis and your later graduate work prepare you for your current profession? Are there certain skills or thinking habits that you continue to draw on?
Prior to touring UC Davis, I was actually convinced that I would be going to UCLA and getting a degree in literature or film. A southern California kid with roots in the Midwest, I knew nothing about this quaint farm town close to Sacramento. I will never forget, however, stepping on to Davis’ quad and the surprise that washed over me. I ended up going to Davis as undeclared until quite possibly the end of sophomore year. I was really at a loss of what courses to take (even as I worked PT in the College of Letters & Sciences). One day, my academic advisor jokingly told me to take the General Catalog home (it was physical copies back then) and to highlight the courses that sounded interesting—by default, those would become my major, he said. Look, I actually did it! I ended up taking several courses in the English Department and met Professor Michael Hoffman (a longtime mentor and friend), who introduced me to the Honors Program and who sent me on my trajectory into post-graduate study in the Humanities.
From Holocaust literature to deep work studying Virginia Woolf, with professors like Sandra Gilbert and visiting poets, I received an education I never could have imagined as a young adult who once thought Los Angeles was the place to be, ha! I, no doubt, had an unmatched experience. And as I stepped foot on University of Chicago’s campus just a year later after graduation, next to students from Yale, Harvard, and Duke, I was even more surprised by my capabilities. I thrived in Chicago not in spite of Davis, but truly because of my time there. I am forever grateful.
Also, and I think it’s important to add this: people often talk about the humanities as “soft skills.” My oh my this too is a myth. I tell my clients this when appropriate. We can learn a whole lot about activism through poetry, think: Holocaust poets, or Audre Lorde, or Maya Angelou. Or Adrienne Rich. We can learn about community care reading bell hooks. We can learn about love through Pablo Neruda, Derek Walcott, or letters between writers (I have a collection of these, ha!). We can learn about leadership through personal reflection and memoir. And above all else (which is an opportunity for Humanities departments), we can learn about ourselves through expressive writing—which is now an evidenced-based wellness practice (this is something I teach frequently). Writing and creativity are fundamental survival skills that are key to our social evolution and to staying grounded when the world around us is moving at such an unparalleled pace. In fact, as I am hearing a lot of late, the humanities may in fact be the most invaluable skill set in the age of AI. We need creativity, the arts and humanities, to ground the human soul when everything else is fleeting.
You mentioned that graduate programs don’t often help students connect the skills they’ve developed into a marketable path outside of academia. How do you think this gap can be addressed, and what skills from the humanities do you see showing up in professional settings?
When I was in graduate school, the University did not promote a clear career path other than continuing on to get a PhD.…or maybe, teaching at a community college. This may have changed over the last two decades, but I am not so sure. Today, when I put calls out for writers to support some of my larger clients, I often get 15-20 resumes, new graduates and seasoned academicians seeking freelance work, many with PhDs. Now there are lots of reasons for this: tenure-track jobs are limited, we are graduating more students than there are teaching positions, and interdisciplinary degrees have historically been hard to capture. Still, it’s heart breaking.
I have said this to many deans in the humanities and even to executives in health care. Humanities graduates have so many transferrable skills! And so the onus is on us. My advice:
1) We have to get better at telling that story of our skill and abilities. For example: Humanities students close read, connect, synthesize, examine complex subjects, call upon historical context, and write really well across styles. They also are adept at applying all of these practices to understanding the human condition (we are integrators!) –which has been essential throughout my career.
2) We have to invest in bridging the gap between academia and industry (that means really assessing the landscape and really building a case for hire). We have to build social capital as humanities leaders. We have to play bigger. We have to bolster our case for existence. This is what I call our reason for being. Here’s an example.
Humanists can train doctors to be better listeners and more compassionate caregivers. We can train leaders to develop human-centered cultures . We can train companies to own their story. Heck, we can work with engineers to create communities that center culture and wellbeing. That means that our internships and career connections don’t need to just be in an art museum or a literacy org, we actually can contribute and create impact in major companies across disciplines. Heck, we can work in AI. Check out the founder of Anthropic.
How do we do this, you might ask? We learn to assess, survey, sketch in the margins like a book, we evaluate, build hypotheses, and chart out a course like it’s a white paper. We can do this. I promise, we can. And the world needs it. They need our skills, our foundation in love and gratitude too. Because that is what will save us.
The tough truth is: We have underestimated ourselves and so the world underestimates us. I want to change that. I will do whatever it takes to change that.
What advice would you give to English majors or graduate students who are unsure about their future steps? How can students better translate their humanities training into meaningful career paths?
I think I covered a lot of that above. But to add, I invite students to consider digging inward, ala “know thyself,” ha! Before an interview ask yourself: “Who am I? What is my call to purpose? What story am I operating inside of and how does that align with the story of the work required?” I have so many more tips and am happy to support new graduates. The reality is: we can teach specific skills on the job, but we can’t always teach how one orients themselves to the work, how they connect to the mission, how they find daily purpose and satisfaction. That’s an inside job. We can, however, help students build a case for their transferrable skill set—and per above, play bigger.
I am not suggesting we bring a passage from Shakespeare or Aristotle to an interview, but we can use the foundation of our field of study to understand the context we are walking into. We can acknowledge at the end of the day that we are all humans, and critical thinking (a huge piece of humanities training) is key to success in almost all professions. So let’s bring the critical thinking prowess, the communications skill set, as well as the empathy and creative capacity—and I think we will do just fine. More than fine. I think we are the revolution this new professional landscape is waiting for. And I am here for it.