Always Be Open to Possibility

A few years ago, I was revisiting my values – identifying and clarifying which core principles anchor me, drive my decision making, and are key to how I show up in the world. 

Through that process, I realized that a lot of my core principles – empathy, curiosity, and connection, for example – were centered around the idea of exploring what was possible in any given situation, idea, or relationship. 

It hadn't occurred to me that possibility itself was a value. 

Until it did. 

Now, "always be open to possibility" is one of my core driving principles.  

Because every day I am faced with decisions – some big and some minor. 

Each one of those decisions impacts me and others in some meaningful way. 

When my mind is in scarcity mode, I act out of fear and worry, and the impact of my decisions is neutral or negative.

On the other hand, when I am in an abundant mindset – and open to the exciting uncertainty of possibility – the impact of my decisions is overwhelmingly positive. 

Which is what I want in the first place.

What about you? Are you always open to possibility?

Gandhi Wasn’t Passive

Some of the criticism I get with my approach to DEIB work centers around the fact that I am calm, lead with empathy, am always willing to dialogue with people who disagree with me, and don't get riled up that easily. 

The insinuation is that my compounding privilege allows me to adopt this disposition, that I don't really care that much, that I'm somehow. . .passive. 

Well, that's just a bunch of bullshit, you ignorant motherfuckers. I'll prove to you that I know what the hell I'm talking about. . .

See, doesn't work, does it? 

One of my inspirations for doing DEIB work is Gandhi. A million quotes I could use, but I think this one is relevant: 

"I have never advocated passive anything."

Gandhi says this when he's just been let out of prison by the British, and they're surprised that he's not more pissed off about continually being imprisoned for standing up for his beliefs and his people. 

But he doesn't lower himself to their way of interacting. He is not intimidated. He is not thrown off track. 

The British are bemused, condescending, presuming that because he doesn't yell and scream and cuss that he is ineffective, intimidated. . . passive. 

Well, we all know what happened to the British in India. 

Gandhi was not passive. Neither am I.

And neither should you be.

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.

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.

The Four Agreements

In 2016, my friend Franky Fuentes turned me on to the book The Four Agreements.

It's been a foundational framework for my work and life ever since. I highly recommend it for people who are interested in building inclusive cultures of belonging.

The Four Agreements are: 

1. Be impeccable with your word. 

"Speak with integrity. Say only what you mean."

Speak with love. Be authentic. Be intentional. Be truthful. Be courageous. Be humble. Be mindful. Be inclusive. 

2. Don't take anything personally. 

”Nothing others do is because of you. What others say and do is a projection of their own reality. When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won't be the victim of needless suffering."

Knowing this helps you absorb criticism and attacks on your character with equanimity and non-judgment. 

3. Don't make assumptions. 

"With just this one agreement, you can completely transform your life."

Always lead with curiosity. Adopt a beginner's mindset. It keeps you out of a lot of needless drama and conflict. 

4. Always do your best. 

"Under any circumstance, simply do your best, and you will avoid self-judgment, self-abuse and regret."

Seemingly trite. And incredibly powerful. Self-love and self-empathy are the foundation for loving and empathizing with others.

Be Quiet and Listen

I was fifteen years old when my dad called and told me that his partner John died of AIDS.

I was watching Family Ties and didn’t give him my full attention. 

He was crying and pouring his heart out to me, and all I could do was mumble trite condolences. 

A few weeks later he wrote me a letter saying he was glad to hear me crying when he told me John died because it showed that I had matured and appreciated the gravity of the situation. 

I never told my dad that I wasn’t crying, that I just had a cold and was sniffling. 

My dad died of AIDS on September 29, 2000. 

I miss him every day.

These days, I am very intentional about leading with empathy.

I appreciate the value of being present and witnessing someone else's truth. 

And I do my best to show compassion for people.

Because I never know what another person might be going through. 

And I never know if I'll get another opportunity to connect.

Maybe all someone needs when they share something with me is for me to be quiet and listen. 

Yeah, I try to do that more often now.

We Need More White People

We need more White people doing diversity, equity, inclusion, and belonging work. 

We need more White people modeling vulnerability. 

We need more White people who are culturally competent. 

We need more White people doing their personal development work. 

We need more White people willing to be allies, advocates, and accomplices. 

We need more White people relieving the burden of responsibility and education from people on the downside of power. 

We need more White people doing the emotional labor. 

We need more White people to STFU (seek to fully understand). 

We need more White people leveraging their social capital and privilege to drive impact and affect change. 

We need more White people to stay present in uncomfortable conversations. 

We need more White people to lead with empathy and compassion.

We need more White people to be self-actualized and to evolve their consciousness. 

We need more White people disrupting bro culture. 

We need more White people doing anti-fragility work. 

We need more White people telling other White people to get with the program.  

We need more White people who are anti-racist.

We need more White people elevating their self-awareness. 

White people, there's a lot we need from you. 

Are you up for the challenge?

Believe Everything That Anybody Tells You

I'd like to invite you to try a little thought experiment. Do it for a day, a week, forever, however long you want. 

The thought experiment is this: 

Believe everything that anybody tells you. 

That's it. Someone says something. Believe them. 

Your three-year-old says he doesn't know where the wet, stinky, yellow stain on the couch came from? Believe him. 

Your direct report says it's hard to be the only gay man on the team? Believe him. 

Your teenage daughter says her boyfriend is a good guy? Believe her. 

Your biologically male colleague says she feels like she's always been female and wants to change genders? Believe her. 

Your neighbor says they didn't cause the dent in your car backing out of their driveway? Believe them. 

Your Iraq War veteran colleague says his PTSD makes it hard for him to concentrate for long periods? Believe him. 

Your partner says he's going to break it off if you don't change your ways? Believe him. 

Your colleague says she was sexually harassed by your boss? Believer her.

The Black father whose unarmed son was shot and killed by the police tells the world he didn't deserve to die? Believe him. 

You say to yourself you can intentionally stay present and nonjudgmental in any conversation? 

Believe yourself.

We Are More Than Our Work

Monday, January 26, 2009. 12:30pm. Oakland. 

I walk into my sixth grade classroom for my afternoon lessons. My phone rings. It's my wife: 

"Emergency C-section. Tonight. 6:30."

I find a sub, and rush to San Francisco to my wife's aunt's house, across from the park from where my twins will be born in a few hours. 

I eat a turkey sandwich. I am calm. 

In a nervous, excited, scared, happy kind of way. 

We drive through Golden Gate Park to the hospital. I sign a bunch of papers. I wear a hospital gown and a shower cap. I almost shit my pants. I try to blame the turkey sandwich. 

At 6:41pm my son is born. 6:42 my daughter. 

I'm a father. I'm crying tears of joy. My kids are screaming tears of life. 

Now they are eleven. I'm still happy. 

We are more than our work. We all have intrinsic motivations. We all have a "why."

Each why is unique, personal, and important. Mine. Yours. Everyone's. 

Are we working in spaces that allow us to share our "why"? That allow us to be vulnerable? To be our dynamic, beautiful selves?

Or do we feel the need to cover? Trapped behind a mask in a cage of professionalism. 

When we share personal stories, we give others permission to share theirs. We build trust and connection.

We create inclusive workplace cultures where everyone feels like they belong.

Get With the Pronouns

Never once in my life has someone misgendered me. 

I've never been referred to with "she" or "her" or "hers."

People always – every single time – correctly refer to me with "he," "him," and "his."

This is not the case for many people who are transgender, gender nonconforming, nonbinary, or otherwise don't align with gender norms and expectations.  

Just the other night at a networking event, a person in the small group I was in declared their they/them pronouns proactively, presumably before any of us inadvertently misgendered them during the conversation. 

But what if they didn't have to do that? What if we all were upfront with our gender pronouns, even if – especially if – we've never been misgendered or had to think about it before?

It's an easy and free (economically and socially) way to show support, awareness, and cultural agility. 

You can start by putting your pronouns on your LinkedIn profile, email signatures, etc. 

Another way to show support and create an inclusive environment is to ask people to wear pronoun pins, name tags, or lanyards at your next event. 

Here is one option that I've found. You can easily go the DIY route too. 

I'd love to hear your thoughts, experiences, suggestions on this topic. Please share. 

Balance or Integration?

Recently I've had several conversations about work/life balance. 

I believe in creating a work/life balance. 

And I believe that work/life balance is different than work/life integration – something I don't think we practice enough. 

For me, work/life balance means setting limits on when I check email, when I'm on my phone/computer, not doing work after hours or on weekends. 

That's all relatively easy for me to practice. 

Work/life integration, for me, is about living my values and principles and beliefs always – not distinguishing between work and non-work. 

My work, fortunately, is all about building relationships, starting conversations, educating and coaching and teaching and training people to be more self-aware and culturally competent. 

My work is about empathy and compassion and emotional intelligence and connection and listening and trust and inclusion and creating spaces of belonging for myself and others.  

And this isn't limited to "work". This is who I am. 

With my kids. With my friends. In any community or social setting I am in. 

This is the perspective I bring to life. I'm comfortable, confident, and competent with it. 

I don't have to turn it on and off for different situations. I don't have to balance it. 

I choose to integrate it. 

What about you?

Making Peace with Ambiguity

I'd like to invite you to adopt an approach to life called negative capability that I have found useful in my life. 

Negative capability is "the willingness to embrace uncertainty, live with mystery, and make peace with ambiguity."

The concept was coined by the poet Keats in the early nineteenth century as a rebuttal to society's insistence on definitive answers. 

In the last two hundred years its application has expanded. 

Take the modern day example of engaging in difficult conversations about diversity, identity, power, privilege, exclusion, equity, belonging. . .

Often, because people lack familiarity (let alone fluency) with these topics, they choose to disengage from important conversations that need to happen if we are to make progress. 

The root of this fragility is usually fear, pride, and/or arrogance, all of which are signs of discomfort, which leads to disengaging from the conversation, which leads to lack of learning, which leads to a preservation of the status quo. 

Which leads to continued exclusion and marginalization, which leads to distrust, which leads to low motivation and engagement, which leads to less innovation and productivity, which leads to poor business results. . .

Wow! All that because we are uncomfortable being uncomfortable. 

What a shame. 

You're Gonna Stop Being Nice

Like most White people, you were taught growing up that racism is bad, Martin Luther King is good, and everything will be okay if you're nice. 

This worked as a kid so you figured it will work as an adult and now you live by this simple formula. 

You never explored it further. You never bothered to examine if it might be more nuanced, not as simple as that. 

Your idea of racism is confined to the "burning cross" kind – lynchings, KKK rallies, angry White people spewing the N-word. Those people are clearly not nice!

You can't understand the more subtle forms of racism – the "fetch me some lemonade" kind. What are people complaining about? Slavery is over. Jim Crow too. We're post-racial. A meritocracy. You have a Black friend. 

You dragged your outdated, comfortable worldview with you from childhood. It led to fragility – defensiveness, combativeness, White solidarity – whenever someone brings up systemic inequity and privilege. 

You lack cultural competence. You cling to your beliefs. You dismiss out of hand the idea of microaggressions. 

Isn't this all irrelevant? Shouldn't Black people get over it? Stop bitching? Try harder? Move out of the ghetto? Not be so rude? 

It's gotten so bad that if Black people keep grumbling, you're gonna stop being nice.

Read more #secondpersonstories here.

I Bet You’ll Like What You See

It's a new decade. 

I'd like to invite you – to challenge you – to try something new. 

Something that your company won't offer in any of its PD opportunities. 

Something that your friends or family or neighbors won't ask you to do. 

Something you probably haven't thought about yourself. 

I'd like you intentionally expand your cultural competence. 

I don't want you to tell anyone you're doing it. I just want you to do it. 

I want you to put yourself in new situations. I want you to familiarize yourself with people and ideas and cultures that you are unfamiliar with. 

You can do it however you want. Here are some suggestions to help you get started: 

• Read ten books by and about people who are racially or ethnically different from you

• Subscribe to five podcasts hosted by people who have a different gender identity, gender expression, or sexual orientation than you

• Attend five events where your are decidedly not the target audience

• Befriend five people at work, school, the gym or other social settings who come from a different background than you (i.e., political, religious, nationality, generation, etc.)

Do this with intentionality and curiosity and equanimity and empathy. 

Do it and see what happens. I bet you'll like what you see. 

And so will others.

You Have the Privilege of Being the Only

You walk into the room before the panel begins. 

You give your friend who is speaking a hug and find a seat in the back. 

Out of the way. Inconspicuous. Today isn't about you. 

You look around as the room fills with almost all women. 

This makes sense. The event is called "Women in Tech – How to Become".

Upon further observation, you realize you're the only man in the room. 

You wonder if people are questioning why you're here. To find a date? As a recruiter? A Communist spy? What are your motivations?

No one says anything to you, but you feel self-aware. Like you don't quite belong. Like maybe you shouldn't be here. 

The event begins. The panelists are amazing. Empowering. Vulnerable. Confident. 

The event ends. You say bye to your friend and leave as women begin to mingle. 

You wonder why more men didn't come. They might have gotten a sense of what it's like to be the only. 

The only woman in a board meeting. The only Black engineer on the team. The only non-binary person without a bathroom to use. The only person with a same sex partner. 

Today you were the only man in a room full of women. 

The difference? You chose to put yourself in this situation. 

You realize that most people who are the only don't have that privilege.

Read more #secondpersonstories here. 

Empathy is an Enabler, Not a Blocker

I had some follow up thoughts to my post on empathy from yesterday, sparked by Stacy Metzger's comments, which read, in part: 

"Empathy is critical in business. It enables us to better understand our customers’ wants, needs, fears, etc., so we can solve meaningful problems."

So true. 

And so ironic that in our urgent pursuit of "results" – more clients, better products, more money – we sabotage those results by not leading with empathy or acting with compassion. 

We fail to optimize trust and connection on our teams. People leave. 

We fail to learn and understand the needs of our customers. They go to another company. 

Leading with empathy does not imply that you can not be direct or firm, expect high quality work, or be driven to achieve results. 

You can (and should) do all that. 

And just do it all knowing that shit happens, that people are motivated by different things, and that. . . well, life. . .

Kim Scott calls it Radical Candor: caring personally and challenging directly. 

Michelle Kim talks about compassionate criticality. Meeting people where they are and not ignoring problematic comments. 

Teachers and parents may be familiar with Positive Discipline: kind and firm.  

If you want "results," empathy is an enabler, not a blocker.

Empathy: The Most Courageous Demonstration of Strength There Is

I suspect the reason we find it difficult to lead with empathy is because we believe empathy implies weakness or deficiency. 

I have empathy for people who feel that way. 

And, it is wrong. 

Empathy is perhaps the most powerful, effective, and courageous demonstration of strength there is. 

What is weak about witnessing another person's truth? 

What is weak about imagining what it's like to be in someone else's shoes? 

What is weak about non-judgment? 

What is weak about staying present while someone is vulnerable with you? 

Empathy is not agreement. It is not validation. It is not sympathy. Or pity. 

Empathy is not an action; being empathetic is a default way of being. When we embody empathy we are more readily able to act compassionately – especially in difficult conversations. 

You can deliver critical feedback compassionately. Demote someone compassionately. Fire someone compassionately. 

If you embody empathy. 

If you don't embody empathy as a default position, then when you have those difficult conversations, people will probably just think you're a dick. 

And I would have empathy for them.

Have *You* Changed?

You've probably seen the image: 

One childishly drawn person with a smallish heart and mind and just-budding flowers for hair says to a second person with the same heart and mind, only bigger, and fully-flowered hair, "You've changed!"

The implication is clear. The first person is upset at the second person's change, nostalgically longing for the familiarity of them as they used to be. 

Perhaps the first person is bitter or resentful, maybe even feeling betrayed that the second person has the nerve to be unfaithful to the picture of who the first person expects to see. 

The second person's response is, "I'd hope so." 

A clear statement of intent that it had never occurred to them not to change, to evolve, to grow, to explore. 

Of course they were going to discover their potential. Of course they were going to bring greater joy to the world through all they have to offer in their mature, self-actualized state. 

So who would you rather be? 

The first person, clinging desperately to the status quo, afraid of the unknown, stifling your and others’ perpetual renewal? 

Or the second person, always ready and eager to develop, expand, and transform? 

I know who I'd rather be. Will you join me?

Link to image

Using Our Social Capital More Strategically

One of the main obstacles to building inclusive communities is that we assume that our subjective experience is the objective truth. 

That our norm is the norm. 

That our world view is more or less the same as everyone’s world view. 

Armed (and dangerous) with this perspective, we don't bother to explore, understand, or appreciate that what is true for us is not necessarily true for others.  

That there are external factors that contribute to inequality. That people on the downside of power may work just as hard as people on the upside and not see the same results. 

That privilege is real. That systemic racism, and institutionalized sexism, and legal homophobia are real.

As long as we chose to stay blind to the lived experiences of people with different backgrounds, we will continue to find it difficult to relate, and we will continue to dismiss the concerns that we have chosen to not understand.  

It is our responsibility as people who care about equity, inclusion, and belonging to disrupt the status quo by educating ourselves. 

By familiarizing ourselves with other people's realities. By listening, reading, immersing, and advocating. 

This means using our social capital more strategically. 

Are you up for the challenge? 

We Wonder Why People Don’t Trust Us

In Man's Search for Meaning, Viktor Frankl says: 

"Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom."

This applies especially to empathy. 

Empathy is a choice – every single time. 

Too often, in our rush to react, to judge, to conclude, we choose not to be empathetic. 

I've led dozens of workshops on conscious inclusion. I emphasize that empathy is fundamental to helping people feel safe, heard, and included.  

I lead an exercise asking people managers to read a first person narrative of someone who has felt marginalized, disenfranchised, or excluded. 

They write down what they notice about the person's story, then we discuss how to respond if they were their direct report. 

Every single time at least one participant's initial response is to question or challenge the validity of the narrative, to poke holes in their logic, to rebut, to dismiss its seriousness, to raise "what ifs". 

I suspect that we fear being empathetic because the uncertainty of what comes after having connected with a person leaves us too vulnerable. 

Which is scary. So we constantly close off opportunities to connect. 

Then we wonder why people don't trust us.