The personal cost of working in diversity and inclusion
The personal cost of working in diversity and inclusion
I have delivered 100’s of diversity and inclusion training workshops to countless companies. One of my favourite quotes is by Stephen Covey, “We see the world, not as it is, but as we are.” My passion is supporting people in their understanding of themselves and how it impacts their view of the world around them.
I was recently asked to deliver a webinar on LGBTQ+ allyship in the workplace. I have delivered this talk and many like it to 1000’s of employees over the years.
For this particular session the organisation had requested I incorporate my lived experience, recognising the power of personal stories. During the talk I spoke about intersectionality and shared how growing up in a predominantly white part of the UK, I had grappled with not only the lack of Queer representation around me but also the lack of Black, Queer representation.
As the session drew to a close, participants started to highlight comments that had been added to the Menti. For anyone not familiar with menti.com, it is an online meeting tool that allows for anonymous participation. The idea is to remove bias, whilst also allowing everyone the opportunity to share and participate. I have used it many times to great effect. However, on this occasion, someone had used the anonymity of the platform to share their aggressive and racist views.
The impact was immediate
Whilst the CEO expressed deep shame and sincere apology, I had already been reduced to tears. I said the following:
“I recognise this is not an organisational view it is an individual view, but I want you to see the impact of these words. I’m not going to apologise for my tears or hide my upset. The people that have shared these comments need to see that these aren’t just words. They have direct impact on people.
If you believe nothing of what I have said today. If you think everything I have shared is stupid and made up. Know that this reaction IS real and as authentic as it gets.
I sit here as a mother to a young daughter seeing this. This is the fear I have for her.
This is why is I do what I do, because this still exists.”
The Impact
In the weeks that followed, I still had sessions to deliver and I found myself unusually anxious beforehand. I felt nervous at the thought of going back into a virtual space filled with anonymous squares. Knowing people had the ability to say whatever they wanted.
These comments had targeted two identities which I see as core to who I am. However, it was the comments relating to race that had the biggest impact. I am aware of the privilege I have relating to my queer identity. When I meet people for the first time, 99% of them assume I am straight, therefore sharing my authentic self is a choice. In having that choice I am also able to prepare myself for a potential negative response. But this is not the same for my racial identity. Whilst I also recognise the privilege I have as a mixed-race woman, when I am in white spaces, I am seen as Black.
The fact is, when I enter a training session, regardless of the topic, being Black speaks first, before I even open my mouth.
I have no choice.
It was only as I read the comments on the screen that I realised the full extent of my exposure. The dictionary describes being exposed as, “adj: left or being without shelter or protection; laid open to view; unconcealed; susceptible to attack; vulnerable.”
As I had been openly sharing aspects of myself, someone had been twisting my words to serve their purpose. What made it worse is that I had no idea who this person was. They were an invisible attacker, who knew so much about me, whilst I knew nothing about them.
I felt extremely vulnerable.
The Reaction
I posted an account of what had taken place on LinkedIn and was overwhelmed by the volume of responses I received. Complete strangers taking the time to share their words of solidarity. As well as over 40 employees from the company reaching out to express their deep upset and utter devastation that this took place within their organisation.
I received a call from the EDI Lead, to check in and find out what support I needed.
The CEO addressed the entire company with an email, highlighting their zero tolerance for such behaviour and calling whoever responsible to reconsider their role.
I took a week to process.
Reading through the LinkedIn responses, many people were outraged that the company allowed these comments to be shown publicly.
“As someone who is often behind the scenes for events like this, I do my best to make sure the folks being vulnerable are NEVER in a position where they see those comments.”
“The organisation who asked you to speak had a responsibility to ‘vet’ the questions in advance. It shouldn’t be necessary but unfortunately it is.”
There is a part of me that wholeheartedly agrees with these opinions. Knowing how damaging this situation was, not only for me, but also for those in the audience who were directly affected. I also recognise that even though I consider myself “thick-skinned”, this moment had a huge impact on me.
However as the person targeted, I also recognised the power of the moment. But, and this is a massive but … at what cost?
The Debate
I have since had meetings with companies wanting to use anonymous tools in order to create conversation and I am torn. I see the value in this but I can’t help viewing it through a darker lens. Should we be allowing people to leave comments anonymously? Or does this leave me and others too exposed and vulnerable.
There is the opportunity to moderate the comments, having someone select which are appropriate and which should be made public. This definitely adds a layer of protection, however I am torn once again. I witnessed the reaction of the comments being public. It was a catalyst for action. Employees from the company shared conversations that had occurred with colleges directly after,
“After seeing the hateful comments, the general atmosphere switched to “I didn’t know the situation is THAT bad”, so I would say the awareness for discrimination definitely grew.”
“I’d like to assure you that this has definitely helped start some serious discussions and retrospection internally at all levels of our organisation.”
I guess these quotes highlight a more pressing question, should it take an event like this in order for people to feel compelled to act? The organisation had already started on their EDI journey, but I know from speaking with leaders, they felt this was the proof needed in order for people to justify engaging in the work.
What now?
I would love to say I have resolved the debate and can say confidently this is how things should be done, but in all honesty I can’t. The very nature of EDI work is that things are rarely black and white, I spend much of my time navigating the grey.
The main purpose of sharing this experience was to create awareness of the challenge. There are 100’s of events like this one taking place online each week. It’s important for organisers and participants to be aware of the potential dangers and to be clear in their actions and processes for dealing with them. I had never fully appreciated how open I was leaving myself during sessions until this event.
I will continue to assume positive intent, believing that the people attending my workshops are there with an open mind and the desire to learn. I am naturally a little more cautious, but perhaps this isn’t a bad thing.
Finally, to the person who wrote those hateful comments. Thank you for providing me with a situation to experience the full extent of my own power and resilience. Your actions are the reason I will continue to do this work, no matter what.
