Always Be Curious and Seek to Fully Understand

Want to know a key ingredient to creating cultures of belonging?

Always be curious and seek to fully understand.

When you remember to be curious, you realize how much you don’t know. 

When you show interest in things you don’t know, wonderful new ideas become available to you. 

When new ideas become available to you, you share and discuss these ideas with other people and establish incredible relationships. 

When you develop these relationships, you experience tremendous personal and professional growth. 

When you experience growth, you make a huge positive impact on the world. 

When you make a huge positive impact on the world, you remember that it all started because you were curious. 

So, yeah, creating belonging begins with being curious.

Hey, Those Are My Nipples

In front of the entire school, Tad and Jim, the two biggest kids in seventh grade, lifted me by my nipples and slammed me into the lockers. 

There I was, hung up in the shop front window, on display for hundreds of kids to ridicule my nerdy short shorts the envy of John Stockton, and my scrawny legs that flamingos mocked. 

The intention was to humiliate me. And it worked. 

I was not scared for my physical safety, but, high up as I was, my already low social capital sunk to deeper depths. 

I felt ashamed and embarrassed, filled with a profound resentment and anger that I could not address. 

Kids walked by and laughed. Some casually. Some uproariously. No one said or did anything to help me. 

I recovered from the incident and moved on with my awkward middle school life. As soon as my mom could afford them, she bought me a pair of longer, more stylish shorts. 

I wore them every day for the rest of the year. 

We've all, at some point, felt excluded, targeted, or othered for how we look, dress, or speak. For the religion we practice, the food we eat, the people we love, the color of our skin...

These experiences stay with us. They aren't confined to twelve-year-olds in the middle school halls either. Adults in the corporate halls experience them too. 

This is why we do the work.

The PLU Syndrome and Dominant Group Fragility

I believe that our workplaces are not as diverse and inclusive as they should be because of two interrelated dynamics: 

The PLU (People Like Us) Syndrome and Dominant Group Fragility. 

Both manifest in sometimes overt, sometimes discreet, and often discriminatory ways. 

The PLU Syndrome works like this: 

"No way, you went to Stanford too? You'll love it here. Can you start Monday?"

Or

"Well, we would like to hire more black engineers, but we don't want to lower the bar." 

Or 

"I think Jim over there is a little. . .you know. . .different."

Dominant Group Fragility is an expansion of Robin DiAngelo's White Fragility concept in which a dominant group member becomes defensive, dismissive, or otherwise disengages from a difficult conversation.

It might look like this: 

"Are you saying we shouldn't hire people from the top schools?"

Or 

"Does the race card need to be played every time a black person doesn't get the promotion?"

Or

"What are you saying, that I'm homophobic?"

The PLU Syndrome perpetuates dominant group comfort and stability to seek out (and hire, and promote, and praise) other "people like us."

When raised as problematic, fragility kicks in and prevents productive dialogue about what we should do to change the dynamic. 

Uplifting Underrepresented Voices Amplifies All Voices

I am not an expert in diversity, equity, inclusion, and belonging (DEIB) work. 

I am not a thought leader. Or an authority. Or a specialist. 

I have not "arrived" anywhere. I have not crossed a finish line. I am not enlightened. 

What I have done for the past twenty years is continually elevate my self-awareness while also elevating my awareness of the lived experiences and realities of people "not like me." 

Sure, I know all the industry words and phrases and jargon, but that's not the work. 

The work is not sexy. Or showy. Or meant to impress anyone. This work is about driving impact and affecting change.

I do the work because I care about people. Because I'm curious. Because I'm grounded. Because I know that building relationships changes the world. Because uplifting underrepresented voices amplifies all voices. 

I suspect that some people doing so-called "culture" work have come to the conclusion that they have "arrived" and that there is no more to learn. 

There is no finish line. Like me, you will never be an expert or an authority. 

If you choose to do your personal development and cultural competence work, what you will become is an empathetic champion of your own self actualization. 

Which puts you in a good position to champion the needs of others.

I Suggest You Try Respect, Civility, and Self-Awareness

I have been on LinkedIn for nine years. Recently I blocked someone for the first time. 

I blocked them because of their aggressive and increasingly uncivil pursuit of an inaccurate narrative about my character, intentions, and integrity. 

It started innocently enough with this person disagreeing with some content I shared. 

Not a problem. If everyone agreed with everything I say, then I'm not sharing the right content. 

I responded with curiosity, and even sent a connection request with an invitation to explore the conversation further. 

They didn't want that. Again, not a problem. I respect the decision of how people choose to make connections here. 

The next day this person responded aggressively to another post. I tried to find points of agreement, but the incivility increased to the point where it was clear that there would be no productive dialogue. 

I share all this not to shame, brag, or proclaim that "even empathy has its limits" (it rarely does, by the way). 

No, I share to remind us all that however we choose to engage with people and content on LinkedIn (or wherever else), we should do so with respect, civility, and self-awareness. 

Attacking someone's integrity is never a good approach. I can't think of a time when it has gotten us what we needed.

It’s Safe To Assume. . .

As I reflect on recent conversations I've had that didn't go as well as I would have liked, I'm reminded of insights I've learned from my friend David Lever at Bi-Jingo. 

1. Always assume good intentions. 
2. Always assume future capability. 

When we get caught up in a duel-like interaction that centers rightness and wrongness at the expense of mutual understanding and points of agreement we limit the possibility of learning from the other person.

When we try to "win" the dialogue (sounds silly saying it that way, doesn't it?) we severely curtail any future productive dialogue that may result in deeper understanding, growth, and respect for the other person's viewpoint. 

When we don't approach a difficult conversation with empathy, curiosity, and equanimity, we don't create the space for the connection that may be lying just under the surface waiting to be discovered. 

I've found this approach works well in any conversation:

• personal or professional

• formal or informal

• serious or casual

• written or verbal

• virtual or in person

Often, it is our own discomfort, insecurity, uncertainty, and/or fear that prevents us from assuming good intentions and future capability in the other person. 

Try this approach in your next conversation, and let me know how it goes.

You Don’t Feel Quite Like One of the Guys

You're at lunch in the company cafeteria with three of your colleagues. All men. Just "the guys."

The conversation goes from work stuff to wives to politics. 

And then, oddly, to the transgender woman who just started in marketing. 

When her name comes up, your palms start to sweat, your heartbeat increases, and you get nervous wondering what they're going to say. 

You stay on the outside of the conversation, just observing. 

One guy says he just doesn't get it; can't understand why anyone would want to do that. 

Uh-oh, you think, not a good start. 

Another guy takes it further. "Yeah," he says, dismissively shaking his head, "That's pretty fu**ing weird, if you ask me."

You don't recall anyone asking him. 

The third guy responds with what almost passes as a show of support: "Well, to each his own. Or her own. Or whosever own."

Haha, they all laugh. 

Not aggressive or angry laughs. They're worse than that. They're disparaging laughs. Sneering, contemptuous, disdainful laughs. 

You excuse yourself from the table to hide your tears of anguish and sorrow. 

You go straight to this woman you've not yet met and thank her for her courage and inspiration. 

"Why?" she asks.

Because you're transgender too. And now you're ready to tell people.

Read more #secondpersonstories here. 

The DJ is Playing Everybody’s Jams

I want to amplify a message that my friend Mellody Hayes shared because it resonates deeply with how I go about my work. 

I hope it resonates with you as well. 

Mellody says: 

"I find that some people who want to 'fight' for diversity and inclusion are not walking in energies that would attract people to the cause. 

We have to be love. Be in love with yourself (forgiving those too blind to know the blessing of loving you) and love others at their level of awareness. 

Diversity and inclusion work is not a fight, it’s a celebration, a party where the DJ plays everyone's jams and the food is amazing because there is a bit of everything to eat and everyone gets fed."

I want to go to that party. Will you join us there?

Do Your Personal Development Work

The other day, I shared that I just started a book on empathy, mindfulness, and communication. That I was blown away by the opening paragraph. That I knew it was going to be a great read.

I was right.

So many takeaways to share, but here is one concept that I find absolutely critical (and perhaps counterintuitive to some):

We empathize to meet our own needs.

That's right.

But it's not selfish. Far from it. We empathize because we need connection with other people.

Empathy is a progressive path – a journey, if you like, that we go on – in four stages:

1. Bodily awareness, which provides a base for mindfulness.

2. We cultivate mindfulness so we can practice self-empathy.

3. We cultivate self-empathy so we can empathize with others.

4. We cultivate empathy for others as a base for compassion for everyone.

Powerful stuff, that is.

The more we know who we are, what we need, how we tell our story. . .the more ably we will connect with others' realities, experiences, and stories.

Do your personal development work, folks.

You can't just turn empathy on and off for certain people, situations, contexts. It doesn't work that way.

Empathy is a way of being. And you have to be intentional about it.

So are you being intentional?

The People I Want to Talk With

When I talk with people in the diversity, equity, inclusion, and belonging space, I want to be inspired.

I want people who know their origin story. Who share it powerfully. Who are compelling. Whose honesty and integrity and vision make me tear up. Whose energy gives me goose bumps.

I want connection. I want emotion. I want intentionality and conviction.

I want people who have the courage to be authentic. Who are vulnerable. Who I can trust.

People who embrace their role as a possibility model. Who understand that bringing their full selves to work gives others' permission to bring their full selves to work.

People who know in their bones that creating transformational change is more than executing programming and implementing new policies and initiatives.

People who get that the personal is universal. Who are driven to create impact by connecting with people's hearts and souls, not just their heads.

People who don't dabble in pathetic, generic, boilerplate platitudes like "I believe everyone is equal." People who know that shit isn't good enough.

I want people who have evolved their consciousness. Who are on this earth to change lives. Whose world view is centered in empathy and curiosity and love.

Are you one of these people? If so, let's talk.

What You Do When You're Too Black

You can't figure out. You're totally qualified for the positions you've applied for – overqualified half the time.

But no call backs. No interviews. Nothing.

What's going on?

You resume is perfect – compelling, thorough, no typos.

Your cover letter is customized for each role – personable, authentic, confident.

Then it hits you. It's your name. Your first name sounds too different, too Black, too African. Probably because it is African – from Ghana, to be precise, where your grandparents are from.

Your middle name is less threatening. More palatable. More recognizable. More acceptable. More "American."

More "normal."

So with tears in your eyes, and turmoil in your soul, you change your name on your resume and cover letter, and even on your LinkedIn profile.

You apply to the same jobs. You get call backs within a few days, several interviews that go well, and you land a role that is perfect for you.

Except you can't help but wonder what it's going to be like working for a company that didn't want the "African" you.

You're excited to start your new job, eager to do well. But the path it took to get here makes you sad and resentful.

You just hope it doesn't adversely affect your job performance.

And how will you deposit your paychecks?

Read more #secondpersonstories here.

This is Going to Be a Good Book

Okay, I just read the first page of I'll Take You There: A Practical Guide to Empathy, Mindfulness, and Communication by Shantigarbha, and I already highly recommend it.

I smile seeing empathy, mindfulness, and communication in the same title.

The very first paragraph of the intro says this:

"We get connected with each other in the space that opens up when we let go of our ideas of good and bad, right and wrong. When we feel safe and connected to ourselves, we don't need to use those labels. When we are connected to ourselves, we are also connected to the people around us."

Holy shit. Do I even need to read further?

That’s what it's all about. Connection. To ourselves first. Then to others.

If you know me, worked with me, and/or read my writing, you know that I think DEI professionals get too caught up in doing "DEI things," and don't focus enough on the personal development work required to drive impact and affect change.

You want diversity? Inclusion? Belonging? Equitable workplace cultures?

Challenge people to be empathetic. Teach them to be mindful. Model how to communicate with compassion.

Second paragraph: "Through empathy we can find a way to stay connected to our humanity and to contribute to a more peaceful world."

Yep, this is going to be a good book.

You Don't See the Irony

You're a people manager, VP, executive, or otherwise in a position of influence and power.

You haven't done your personal development work, so you don't know how to create a culture of inclusion and belonging.

You lack social fluency, relational agility, and cultural competency. You don't know how to connect with people who have different lived experiences than you.

You navigate the world with outdated and inaccurate story lines:

I have no time for empathy.
EQ is for wusses.
People just make excuses.
It's a meritocracy.

But these are simply your narrow story lines. Your ingrained habits. Your stubborn perspectives you won't let go of.

You don't realize that you're the problem. That you are driving attrition. That you are sapping motivation. That you are uninspiring. That you are the cause of low productivity, lack of innovation, less creativity.

When any of this is brought to your attention, you dig in. You rebut. You dismiss. You fuel the devolution with your righteous indignation and fragility.

Dynamics that could easily improve, persist, because you are unwilling to reflect and change. You strengthen the story line at the cost of the "results" you claim to want in the first place.

And of course you don't see the irony.

Read more #secondpersonstories here.

There Is a Better Way

For 2020 (and beyond. . . forever. . .), I invite you to center your perspective and your relationships through the lens of the following four principles:

1. Empathy

Remember that your norm isn't the norm.
Truly listen to the stories and experiences of others.
Build trust and connection with your team.
Don't jump to conclusions, invalidate perspectives, or dismiss concerns.

2. Vulnerability

Be a possibility model for others.
Ask for support when you need it.
Admit your mistakes, struggles, and failures.
Share your personal emotions, insecurities, and doubts.

3. Curiosity

Adopt a beginner's mindset, not an expert's.
Observe without judging or reacting.
STFU (seek to fully understand) the perspective of others.
Engage with new and unfamiliar people, cultures, and content.

4. Equanimity

Get comfortable being uncomfortable.
Be okay not knowing.
Start a mediation practice to stay calm under pressure.
Remain present in the face of conflict or uncertainty.

In our mad rush to "get results," we have perpetuated workplace cultures that lack connection, inclusion, and belonging.

There is a better way.

We all want to feel connected.
We all want to feel included.
We all want to feel like we belong.

And, we all have the responsibility to be the change we want to see.

You're Not Sure What To Do

You're only two months into your new role at a new company.

While you love the work and the team, you've learned pretty quickly that the culture is to work nights and weekends to meet deadlines.

Which, in principle, you don't mind doing. But it's affecting your family time.

Your supervisor doesn't have kids, and neither do any of your coworkers. They know you're a parent, but you don't really talk about it very much. You don't want them to think you're not dedicated.

Especially because you're a man. With a female partner. The only time your supervisor has mentioned your kids, it's been about you being lucky that your partner can take care of them.

Wink, wink. Playful shoulder punch. . .

Never mind that she works full time too. And that you share all parenting responsibilities equally.

Your son has a piano recital Thursday at 5:00. You'd have to leave at 3:00 to get there. The new product release is Friday. You're a key player in making it happen.

You don't feel there's enough psychological safety to explain the situation to your supervisor. He hasn't given any signs that he'd be understanding.

Empathy doesn't jump out as one of his major traits. Your job is important to you. And so is your son's recital.

You're not sure what to do.

Read more #secondpersonstories here.

Soft Skills Need a New Name

I think "soft skills" need a new name.

By calling them soft, we assume that they're not important. That it's okay not to develop them.

Because we can't quantify them, we think they're inconsequential.

We insinuate that soft skills are easy, nice-to-haves, irrelevant in professional settings.

Wrong!

Soft skills are damn hard!

Maybe we should have "hard skills" and "really hard skills."

Because if so-called soft skills were easy, we would prioritize them, and more people – especially people managers and leaders – would be competent using them.

If being empathetic was easy, managers would stop being jerks.

If developing interpersonal skills was easy, executives could stay present in uncomfortable conversations about race, identity, and diversity.

If being curious was easy, leaders would be genuinely interested in the lived realities of people "not like them."

If communicating how we feel was easy, all of us would have the courage to be vulnerable and authentic and inclusive.

Soft skills are really hard. That's why we don't develop them.

And then we're left with less compassion, less trust, less connection, less belonging.

I, for one, am working to change that dynamic. Are you with me?

Are You Willing to Do the Work?

To be a truly impactful inclusive leader – whether you're in a "leadership" position or not – who creates cultures of belonging, you need to elevate your consciousness.

This involves raising your self-awareness – understanding who you are, what motivates you, what you care about and why, and how you show up in the world.

And, it involves raising your awareness of other peoples, communities, cultures that are different than yours. Reading, listening, learning, immersing, participating, staying curious and informed and involved in the lives of other people.

If you do neither, you are dormant, ineffective, adding little to no value to the belonging conversation.

If you do the personal work but not the communal work, you are disconnected from reality. You are operating in a vacuum. Your self-actualization has no outlet to serve others and positively impact the lives of others.

Conversely, if you're all about raising your awareness of others without being grounded in who you are, you will be seen as overzealous, inauthentic and distrustful – a savior.

But here's the thing. Raising both your personal and communal awareness takes work. It takes dedication, focus, commitment.

So, are you willing to do that work? Are you dedicated, focused, committed?

Why or why not?

Show Don't Tell

Tell: "It was really hot and I was sweating."

Show: "The sweat dripped down my forehead and stung my eyes. My shirt was a temporary tattoo stuck to my back. The shimmering black asphalt burned my feet through the soles of my shoes."

Tell: "Gender pay equity is important," says the male executive with decision making power.

Show: "By the end of the year, compensation packages will be adjusted so that people of all genders earn comparable pay for the same level of work," says the male executive with decision making power.

Tell: "I support the rights of people who are transgender and non-binary," says the cisgender, straight executive with decision making power.

Show: "By the end of the quarter there will be a gender neutral bathroom on every floor of our office. Also, our new email signature template will include our pronouns," says the cisgender, straight executive with decision making power.

Tell: "It's hard for people with wheelchairs to access certain parts of the office space," says the able-bodied executive with decision making power.

Show: "We are consulting with a disabilities expert to ensure that people in wheelchairs have what they need to do their job successfully," says the able-bodied executive with decision making power.

Show. Don't tell.

You Racist Motherfu**ers!

You walk into the break room Monday morning to grab a cup of coffee. You overhear your direct supervisor and two of your colleagues, all white men, talking about their weekend golf game.

You mention to them that you golf too and next time you'd love to join the fun.

Your supervisor says he didn't realize you golfed, but they'd definitely invite you if they ever play basketball. The three of them laugh. You don't.

You are black. You don't play basketball. In fact, you don't even watch basketball.

You try to decide how to respond.

Do you say, "That's messed up, you racist motherfu**ers!" and be accused of being the angry black man?

Do you say, "You do realize that you are making racist stereotypes based on the color of my skin. . ." and be accused of being too sensitive or playing the race card?

Or do you say nothing – maybe even join in with the laughter – while resentment and bitterness and anger eat away at your heart and soul from the inside, the perpetual microaggressive onslaught devours your spirit and crushes your motivation day after day after day after day after day. . .

Before you can respond, the three of them leave the room. You're alone – a black man with a black coffee in a black humor.

Hell of a way to start the week. Again.

Read more #secondpersonstories here.

You're Gonna Kill the Bastard Who Ate Your Pie

You walk into the dining room for a sumptuous piece of grandma's homemade blackberry pie. Your mouth waters, your stomach growls, your body tingles with anticipation.

Until you discover that the pie is gone. WTF?

You're so pissed off you could cry. You fume. You stomp your feet. You can't believe the injustice!

Which ungrateful, compassionless asshole ate a second piece of pie and deprived you of what was rightfully yours?

You plot your revenge, which ranges from verbal abuse to direct physical violence – and maybe more.

You work yourself up, foam at the mouth, cuss up a storm.

When grandma walks out of the kitchen, smiling, with a freshly baked second pie and offers you a piece.

That's how diversity and inclusion works, folks. There's always enough pie for everyone. The pie is expandable. It's not a zero-sum game. It's not an either/or thing.

Amplifying the voices of people who are underrepresented does not mean dominant voices are silenced. It's not about scarcity. It's about abundance. It's a both/and.

The pie is expandable. If we run out, grandma will make some more. And the new pie will be just a good as the previous pies.

And we all can enjoy the delectableness.

Pie is much better when enjoyed with a friend, don't you think?