Charlottesville
I’m writing this post with a heart that’s troubled and full, and a mind that is churning, trying to connect the news of the last few days with the work that I’ve been doing in my professional life and my personal life. The connection is there. I know it. There is, without doubt, a connection between the business benefits of investing in workplace inclusion, and a world that demands equality and justice for all – even in the face of those who seem to oppose equality and justice in the most vile of ways.
To be clear up front, I’m not going to in any way condone, or excuse, or allow for the possibility that a gathering of hate groups is acceptable. But I do find myself wondering how we got to a place where some people do find this acceptable. This question isn’t a matter of idle musings. It’s really pertinent. Because I see and hear from people of color whose viewpoints I respect deeply, and I’m hearing them say:
These are your people. You come get them, and work with them, and try to teach them differently. And above all, resist the urge to ask us to do that heavy lifting for you, because it’s not our job to try to convince those who deny our basic humanity that they’re wrong.
So I find myself trying to understand. Not the guy with the tiki torch in his hand and the snarl on his lip. Because he’s not in a place to share, or to hear. (And if I’m honest, I don’t think I’m in a place to hear him either.)
I want to understand the people around me – in my life, in the place where I work – who feel disenfranchised in some way. I know that there are fundamental ways in which many of us may disagree. But I want to cultivate conversations that get us to a place of mutual respect. It’s what inclusive leaders do. And we need to do it now more than ever.
So I’ve been thinking about a few questions that I want to spend some time considering. I want to use them as guides when I’m confronted with someone whose views differ, perhaps dramatically, from my own. Because opening ourselves to other perspectives means opening ourselves to ideas that clash with our beliefs and values. And provided that they clash in ways that aren’t disrespectful or hurtful, then I should be able to sit in the discomfort of a conversation, and try to come to some sort of different understanding.
The questions that I want to use in these interactions are:
- Can we disagree, and still respect one another?
- Am I willing/able to make myself vulnerable as we try to find common ground?
- Can we establish some degree of understanding without rushing to judgment?
- Where and how do I hold the line between, on the one hand, conflicting viewpoints and, on the other hand, speech and actions that are harmful to others?
***************************************************************************
Last week, I found myself in a conversation with a colleague, and we were talking about this very topic. I shared the story of a work trip that I recently took with my church, where I worked alongside another adult leader for a week. We had good conversations, and shared a lot of our thoughts about the community where we were working, and our families, and the things we believe. Two days after we returned home, the kids and adults who went on the trip sat together in church. And this other adult leader walked in proudly wearing a t-shirt that strongly communicated one of his political viewpoints. And my first thought was, “Wow. I didn’t know that he supported them.”
I’m not proud of that. But it’s true. That was the thought that passed through my mind. Then I very quickly changed course, and thought back on the week and realized that the print on his t-shirt didn’t change a thing about the person that I had gotten to know over the course of the previous week. The only thing that changed is that I had to realize and accept that he and I have at least one thing that we disagree on. And to tell the truth, there are probably other issues where we wouldn’t see eye to eye. But those disagreements don’t supersede or nullify the respect that I have for him. We can respect each other and disagree.
That feels like a good place to start. Can we disagree, and still respect one another?
***************************************************************************
On Sunday morning, I was eating breakfast. And I was reading "Ms. Marvel, Issue #21". For those who’ve read this blog for a while, you’ll be well aware of my comics fandom, and my respect for the creative team behind the ongoing story of Kamala Khan/Ms. Marvel. For those who may be new to the blog (and unfamiliar with more recent Marvel comics titles), let me just say that "Ms. Marvel" is worth a quick Google search.
In the latest story arc, Ms. Marvel has been fighting a team of super-powered agents who have been commissioned by her local government to round up unregistered people with super powers, and anyone else who’s just – different. One of these agents, who calls himself Discord, wears a helmet, and you can’t see his face. In this most recent issue, Ms. Marvel is cornered by Discord, and in their fight, she pulls off his helmet, and finds that she knows him. He’s Josh - someone who she went to school with. She’s taken completely by surprise, and she asks him what possibly could have drawn him to team up with these agents that are hurting the community that she cares so much about. He tells her his story, which ends with him saying:
“I was so sick of being told how lucky I was and how fortunate I was and how easy I had things. If I have it so great in life, why do I feel like this? Why do I feel like this all the time?”[1]
I’ve been reading, and learning, and trying to dismantle ways of seeing the world that I learned early and never questioned. I’ve written about Debby Irving’s “Waking Up White (And Finding Myself in the Story of Race)”, and how that book really helped me to think differently about the idea of privilege, and what it means. And I’m still learning. All the time. I’m not so far removed from my past understanding of things that I can’t empathize with Josh/Discord. It’s the last line, though, that really hit me. “Why do I feel like this all the time?”
I don’t have the answer to that question. Incidentally, neither does Ms. Marvel. In fact, in response to Josh’s revelation, she determines that the only thing she can do is to reveal something of herself. She takes off her mask and reveals herself to be Kamala Khan, in a show of vulnerability – an effort to connect.
So I guess that’s the second question – Am I willing (or able) to make myself vulnerable as we try to find common ground?
***************************************************************************
A couple of weeks ago, an engineer at Google made headlines when he wrote down and shared his views about the company’s Diversity & Inclusion (D&I) initiatives. His thoughts were then shared outside of the company, and went viral. They included his beliefs that biological and evolutionary differences between men and women had more to do with gender representation than any sort of systematic barriers to opportunity. And he expressed some views about specific Google programs that make it clear that he sees opportunity being afforded to some and denied to white men, like himself.
Perhaps most concerning to me as I read what he’d written was his clear concern that voicing his viewpoint in the organization where he worked was not something that would be allowed.
When I first saw the quotes that had been pulled out of his writing and circulated in media reports, it was tempting to see this person as someone who is, based on his views, at odds with values that matter to me. But when I read the full text, I saw the anger and frustration of someone who feels like the rules that he always thought he understood had shifted, and he was trying to offer an opposing view. I’m not saying that he did it elegantly, or in a forum that was particularly well thought out. I suspect that it was not his intention that it would go public in the way that it did.
Yet here we are, and the temptation is to take the most inflammatory parts of his online rant and say that we know who this person is. We have to resist that.
I’ve felt that temptation when I’m participating in an event for our Women’s Network, and someone asks why we don’t have a Men’s Group. There’s a knee-jerk response that goes off in my head and wants to make assumptions about who that person is, and what he intends. I have to set that aside – that initial judgment – and create an opportunity for discussion, and sharing of viewpoints. That’s part of inclusion too. And as a D&I practitioner, creating those opportunities is my job.
For what it’s worth, I disagree strongly with parts of what that Google engineer wrote, and in some parts of treatise, I can see where he’s coming from. Perhaps it’s human nature to want to quickly judge and compartmentalize others. And perhaps that natural drive is amplified by what feels like a constantly quickening pace of work and life. We have tools like social media which, by their algorithms, make it easy and attractive to put others into confining categories based on one or two statements. I’m suggesting that we fight against all of that, and try to see one another more completely. We may reach understanding (or not), but at least we’ll be working together with more complete information. And we will have tried to get to a better place. So with that thought in mind…
Next question - Can we establish some degree of understanding without rushing to judgment?
***************************************************************************
When someone’s dignity is being attacked, or they are made to feel unsafe, then restoring safety (and addressing the danger) becomes the higher priority. Honoring multiple viewpoints is important, until those viewpoints endanger others in some way, and then it’s important for individuals and organizations to stand up for their values.
So yes, I do want to hear other perspectives, from many sides of an issue. But that’s not a free pass for language and actions that run counter to the values that my company espouses. Or, in my personal life, the values that I hold dear.
It’s a fine line that needs to be navigated, so that we maintain respect and civility while making sure that multiple viewpoints are heard. It means not jumping toward labels that shut down conversations, and giving others the benefit of the doubt – even when they’ve done or said the wrong thing. But it also means holding others (and myself) accountable when the wrong thing hurts others. And of course, language and actions that seek to demean, intimidate, and damage others are completely off the table.
So the fourth question that I will vigilantly ask myself is: Where and how do I hold the line between, on the one hand, conflicting viewpoints and, on the other hand, speech and actions that are harmful to others?
***************************************************************************
Those of us who are D&I practitioners are operating in a tricky space right now. Our efforts need to business-focused, and we need to be aware that there are those in our world (and in our companies) who see our efforts as political, moralistic, and perhaps out of touch with the needs of the organization. The challenge is reach out to everyone. To bring everyone along. And to ensure that equal opportunity is truly equal.
For those of us who are white D&I practitioners in a time of open racial unrest, we have an opportunity to build bridges, and facilitate understanding. We have the opportunity to examine the structures and processes within our organizations and address them in ways that take multiple viewpoints and needs into account. I’ve said before that it’s nuanced, difficult work. It is, in the truest sense, a matter of driving culture change – with sensitivity and awareness and openness.
[1] Ms. Marvel #21, G. Willow Wilson (Writer), Marco Failla (Artist), Ian Herring (Color Artist), Joe Caramagna (Lettering)
