Getting Personal with Diversity and Inclusion Work
Whether we know it or not, we all have some level of experience with diversity, equity, and inclusion work (DEI) in organizations. To illustrate that point, take a moment to think about the following questions, and jot down a quick answer if you’re able:
When was a time when you felt like you were made to feel other or excluded at work because of some part of your identity?
When was a time when you felt like you couldn’t bring parts of your identity to an organization?
DEI is often talked about as an issue of processes, policies, and procedures. But we cannot lose sight of the fact that we are all personally implicated in questions about DEI in organizations, that it’s something we feel in our body and in our connections with others. Memories of feeling shame, confusion, or anger, recent experiences of slights or offenses, these all shape how we encounter, advocate for, or resist organizational change related to DEI.
OK, so personal issues matter in DEI, but why not just get right to the strategic planning and drafting of action items? If we skip the personal, and don’t reflect on what DEI brings up for us and how it lands on our body, we’re only participating on an abstract, intellectual level, and we’re left with an incomplete picture of how to address organizational change. If we take ourselves out of the equation, we’re not truly engaged in DEI to begin with.
For this reason, Project Deviate likes to start with the personal. That way we can practice being attentive to our own reactions, feelings, and needs as we explore questions of identity, belonging, and change in our organizations. Personal experience - as well as getting curious about the experiences of other people - provides a window into understanding how to move forward with DEI in organizations.
On some level, we’ve all felt personally what it’s like to be excluded in the context of work. Let’s return to the examples you came up with in response to the questions at the beginning of the post. Is it possible to fill in that picture even more, to pinpoint the feelings that washed over you, and where on your body you reacted (maybe a blush on your cheeks, tightness in your throat or chest, a sinking feeling in your stomach)?
I’ll give you an example: when I was applying for a job at a youth-serving organization many years ago, I can remember a moment when I removed work experience with LGBTQ organizations from my resumé. Deep down, I was afraid that such experiences might be seen as inappropriate by this organization, and could harm my chances of getting the job by “outting” myself as a queer person. In a simple act, the clicking of the “Delete” button, I had suddenly made myself small, embarrassed of what I had done with LGBTQ advocacy in the past, and afraid to bring my queer identity to work. I can still feel the sigh of resignation and shame that I felt in my chest, sitting there in front of my computer.
One way to make sense of that embodied experience of being made to feel other or excluded is to see it as a moment in which we didn’t fit into an organizational norm. In these situations, what counts as normal in an organization leaves us out, it makes us feel like we can’t belong, or that the price of belonging would involve rejecting or hiding parts of ourselves. When we’re vulnerable enough to identify the personal hurt, we can better see how norms attempt to push and squeeze us, guide our body and our voice, dictate what is and isn’t possible in an organization. Vulnerability can crack open what counts as normal, and reveal the possibilities that lie beyond.
In my case, there wasn’t necessarily anything that the organization actively did to prompt my fear of including experience working with LGBTQ organizations on my resumé. But I can point to societal norms in the form of harmful historical stereotypes about “sexual deviance” and pedophilia - stereotypes that I knew were false, but that still affected my fears and actions. Organizations don’t exist in a vacuum; they reflect the ideas, beliefs, and norms that exist in the society around it. Once I got the job and started working at the organization, I found out two things: that the organization actually wanted me to bring my queer identity and LGBTQ advocacy to my work, and that I wasn’t the only one who had been afraid to disclose their sexual identity in order to work or volunteer with the organization.
I could have left it at that, but sitting with the vulnerability of my own actions, and being responsive to hearing other people share their own stories, revealed that the organization had extra work to do in order to signal to potential employees and volunteers that LGBTQ identities were welcomed and affirmed. As a result of telling these stories, we were able to have a rainbow flag and inclusiveness statement prominently displayed on the organization’s website and newsletter templates. I didn’t know it at the time, but that feeling of shame and disappointment that I experienced sitting at my computer was also a seed of vulnerability, one that would lead to real change in the organization.
Getting in touch with our personal experiences, then, can be a fruitful position for a variety of reasons. It can help us tap into the “why” of DEI, and the urgent need to build organizations that don’t limit ways being, relating, and working for ourselves and the people we work alongside. They can also help us recognize norms in our organization, and better understand how what counts as normal might hinder our DEI efforts to foster a sense of belonging and radical inclusion.
So when it comes to DEI work, don’t be afraid to “get personal.” Starting with yourself, and the vulnerability it entails, has the power to move mountains.
Don’t be fooled—vulnerability is a superpower when it comes to deviating.