I was at a tech networking event recently, and somewhere between the name tags and the lukewarm coffee, when I realized I’d forgotten who I was talking to.
I mentioned something about working with social entrepreneurs. And I saw it. That brief flicker across someone’s face when a term doesn’t land. The polite nod. The slight tilt of the head. They were trying to make sense of what I meant, but I could tell they weren’t quite there.
So I explained it. And then I watched something shift.
It was like a door opened. Not just understanding, but possibility. As if this whole category of work they didn’t know existed had suddenly become visible.
That moment has stayed with me. Because the term “social enterprise” can sound technical, even exclusive. But the idea behind it is remarkably simple: it’s a business that creates social impact. That’s it. The magic is in how.
When I started facilitating SEA Change programs, I made an assumption. I figured everyone walking into the room already knew what a social enterprise was. After all, they’d signed up to learn how to build one. But I was wrong. And I’ve since learned that even among people drawn to this work, the concept can feel hazy until it’s grounded in real examples.
So let me offer a few.
Greyston Bakery, based in Yonkers, New York, makes brownies. You’ve probably eaten them, actually, if you’ve ever had a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Fudge Brownie. But what makes Greyston remarkable isn’t just what they bake. It’s how they hire. They use an open hiring model, which means they give jobs to anyone who walks through the door, no background checks, no interviews, no barriers. For people who’ve been incarcerated, struggled with addiction, or faced chronic unemployment, Greyston offers something rare: a genuine second chance.
Then there’s Goodwill and the Salvation Army, organizations so familiar we sometimes forget to see them clearly. They’ve built massive enterprises on donated goods, turning what others discard into revenue that funds job training, rehabilitation programs, and community support. It’s a model that’s been operating at scale for decades.
Jon Bon Jovi’s Soul Kitchen takes a different approach. It’s a restaurant where everyone is welcome, regardless of ability to pay. If you can’t afford your meal, you volunteer an hour of your time instead. The result is a space where dignity is preserved, community is built, and no one leaves hungry.
Kiva, the microlending platform, has moved nearly two billion dollars through small loans to entrepreneurs in underserved communities around the world. It’s not charity. It’s capital, flowing to people who’ve been overlooked by traditional finance, one twenty-five dollar loan at a time.
And then there’s Aravind Eye Hospital in India, which has become one of the most studied social enterprises in the world. They’ve radically reduced the cost of cataract surgery through process innovation, and they use revenue from patients who can pay to subsidize care for those who can’t. Millions of people have had their sight restored because of a model that refuses to accept the false choice between quality and access.
What strikes me about these examples is how different they are from one another.
One sells baked goods. One runs thrift stores. One operates a pay-what-you-can restaurant. One facilitates microloans. One performs eye surgeries. There’s no single playbook. No template you have to follow. No credential you need to hold.
The question isn’t really “what is a social enterprise?” The question is: what problem do you want to solve, and what business model makes that sustainable?
That reframe changes everything.
Because suddenly, social enterprise isn’t a category you have to fit into. It’s an invitation. An invitation to look at a problem you care about and ask what kind of business could chip away at it. An invitation to get creative, to borrow models, to invent new ones, to test and learn and adapt.
I think about that person at the networking event sometimes. I don’t remember their name, but I remember the moment when understanding landed. That brief pause. The way their eyes changed.
It reminded me why I do this work.
Not because social enterprise is complicated and needs experts to explain it. But because it’s simple, and powerful, and most people just haven’t been shown what’s possible yet.
If you’re exploring this space, even tentatively, I’d encourage you to stay curious. Look at the models that exist. Notice which ones resonate. And then ask yourself what you might build.
The door is wider open than you think.