The Data Behind Culture Change

Culture change rarely fails because people don’t care. It fails because leaders are making high-stakes decisions with partial information. Financial data, operational metrics, and performance dashboards are reviewed with discipline and regularity, but the data that shapes how people experience the organization is often anecdotal, assumed, or inferred secondhand. When culture conversations rely solely on stories or intuition, they tend to drift toward opinion instead of clarity.

Data does not replace relationships or stories, but it does sharpen them. When culture data is well designed, it does something powerful: it reveals patterns that individual conversations can’t. It surfaces misalignment between intent and impact. It shows where systems are supporting people, and where they’re quietly working against them. In that sense, culture data isn’t about measurement for its own sake; it’s about creating a shared reality from which meaningful change can actually begin.

The fact is...

Most organizations already say the right things.

We value trust.
We believe in accountability.
We want people to feel supported, engaged, and empowered.

And yet... If you ask people what it actually feels like to work inside the organization, you often get a much more complicated answer.

That gap between what we say and what people experience is where culture lives.

And it’s exactly why we built the Experience Indicator.


Why We Created the Experience Indicator

We’ve facilitated culture conversations in boardrooms, break rooms, job sites, classrooms, and city halls. And across industries, one pattern shows up again and again:

Leaders are making decisions with intentions.
Employees are responding to experiences.

When culture work stalls, it’s rarely because leaders don’t care. It’s because they’re missing a shared, honest picture of what’s happening right now, not in theory, but in lived experience.

The Experience Indicator was designed to surface that picture.

Not to grade people.
Not to label teams.
And not to produce a glossy scorecard that simply looks good but changes nothing.

Instead, it creates shared language, shared clarity, and shared direction.

What the Experience Indicator Measures

At its core, the Experience Indicator asks a simple but powerful question: “What is it actually like to work here, day to day?”

The assessment explores how people experience the organization across four critical cultural dimensions:

Together, these dimensions help leaders see where energy and momentum is flowing, and where it’s leaking.

How Organizations Use the Experience Indicator

Organizations use the Experience Indicator in different ways, depending on their goals:

What matters most isn’t when you use it, although that's a stratrgic decision as well.

What really matters most is what you’re willing to do with what it reveals.

Culture Isn’t What You Intend. It’s What You Create Space For.

The Experience Indicator doesn’t give you the answer.

It gives you visibility.

Visibility into how systems, leadership behaviors, communication patterns, and assumptions are shaping daily experience, often in ways no one meant, but everyone feels.

And from that visibility comes choice.

Choice to clarify.
Choice to adjust.
Choice to create more space for trust, ownership, and growth.

If you’re curious what your people are experiencing, we’d love to explore what the Experience Indicator could surface for your organization.

Assume Positive Intent: Tool or Trap?

The Seduction of a Simple Phrase

In professional settings, few phrases circulate as widely, or with as much hope, as “assume positive intent.” It shows up in leadership books, management seminars, and coaching conversations. It shows up when managers have to engage in hard conversations, and in moments where team members are seeking repair or resolution.

The idea is deceptively simple: if you interpret someone’s words or actions as clumsy rather than malicious, you open up space for dialogue instead of defensiveness.

That’s beautiful. Hard to do, for sure, but simple in theory.

And in many cases, it works. Conversations are less likely to spiral into accusation. Leaders can anchor themselves in curiosity. Colleagues can find common ground even when emotions flare.

But like so many phrases that gain traction in organizational culture, “assume positive intent” can also become a blunt instrument. What’s meant as a tool for reframing can, in some contexts, morph into a trap, especially for people with less power, fewer options, or marginalized identities.

The Promise: Why Assuming Positive Intent Matters

Why does this phrase resonate so strongly in leadership circles?

It reframes conflict.
When we assume someone’s intent is good, we give them the benefit of the doubt. A comment that could be taken as dismissive may instead be understood as rushed, or poorly worded. A response that felt snarky or hurtful might be reinterpreted as distracted or lacking broader perspective. The difference between those interpretations can determine whether connection is cultivated or eroded.

It protects relational trust.
Most people do not wake up in the morning scheming to derail their colleagues. They are trying, often imperfectly, to get through the day, to do their work, to be heard. Assuming positive intent reminds us that, even when values don’t look aligned in real time, beneath the surface, many of us are motivated by shared desires for belonging, contribution, and progress.

It encourages curiosity over judgment.
By setting aside the instinct to defend or retaliate, we leave space to ask clarifying questions: “What did you mean by that?” or “Can you tell me more?” This is where real understanding takes root, and where real connection can flourish.

For leaders, this mindset can be a lifeline. It helps them resist the pull of cynicism and keeps communication open in high-stakes moments. For team members, it’s a reset button that often needed in the rush of workflow and the crush of deadlines, moving targets, and complicated relationships.

The Peril: When Assuming Positive Intent Causes Harm

The danger emerges when “assume positive intent” is treated as a universal directive instead of a situational tool.

For people with less organizational power, or those carrying the weight of risk (for a variety of reasons), the phrase can land very differently. It may feel less like an invitation and more like an obligation.

Endure microaggressions.
A woman in a male-dominated meeting is told, “You’re so articulate.” She’s encouraged to “assume positive intent” rather than name the condescension embedded in the comment.

Reinterpret exclusion.
A colleague is consistently left off key emails. They’re advised to assume it’s an oversight, not exclusion, even as the pattern persists.

Normalize gaslighting.
A leader denies something harmful they said the day before. To “assume positive intent” is to dismiss your own lived experience in favor of their narrative.

Own someone else’s bigotry.
A team member is referred to as a “DEI hire.” They’re told to see it as a political comment about statistics rather than a personal attack.

Here, the phrase risks becoming complicit with harm. Instead of fostering dialogue, it shifts responsibility onto those already bearing the greatest burden. It asks the person experiencing harm to be generous while asking little of the person causing harm.

That’s when “assume positive intent” crosses the line, from a helpful tool to harmful trap.

Why Both Realities Exist

The tension exists because intent and impact are not the same.

Intent speaks to motivation. Did someone mean to be harmful, or were they careless, uninformed, or stressed?

Impact speaks to effect. Did their words or actions cause harm, regardless of what they meant?

Assume positive intent prioritizes the first. But when we prioritize intent without equally addressing impact, we end up excusing behavior rather than holding it accountable.

That’s why this phrase feels liberating for some and dangerous for others. It protects relationships in some contexts but erodes them in others.

A Healthier Middle Ground

The solution is not to abandon the phrase altogether, but to hold it with nuance.

Treat it as a choice, not a command. No one should be forced to assume positive intent. For some, the healthiest response is to name harm directly, without being pressured into generosity.

Consider power dynamics.
Leaders and those with privilege are in the best position to assume positive intent because they are least at risk. The greater your authority, the more you can afford to extend this posture without compromising your dignity or safety.

Balance intent with accountability.
We can acknowledge that someone did not mean harm while also making clear that harm was done. The conversation then becomes: “I trust you didn’t mean to, but here’s the impact your words had. Let’s work on repairing it.”

Pair grace with guardrails.
Extend curiosity, but never at the expense of clarity. Ask questions, but also set boundaries. Generosity should not mean silence.

For leaders, the takeaway is clear: assume positive intent is not a universal cure-all. It is a scalpel, not a sledgehammer. Used wisely, it can reduce unnecessary conflict. Used carelessly, it can perpetuate injustice.

Leaders must ask themselves: Who benefits from me using this phrase right now? Who bears the cost? Am I prioritizing my own comfort over someone else’s lived reality?

If the answers lean toward self-protection, it’s time to reach for a different tool.

The real work of leadership is not in discarding the phrase, nor in wielding it indiscriminately, but in discerning the difference.

Generosity matters. Accountability matters. Both can, and must, coexist if we want to create cultures where everyone gets to get better, together.

Better Communication, Better Conflict

There is a lot going on in our world as we gather to work together. 

For many, it’s never felt as complicated as it does in this moment right now.

A near-nuclear partisan landscape... the politicalization of inclusion and diversity... workplaces ripe with mistrust... return-to-work protests and the unending challenge of a hybrid workforce… dismal employee engagement scores, with wellness not far behind… and the unceasing tension of stepping on a conversational landmine...

First things first: there are no easy answers.

It's way more complicated than that. We can't pretend nothing is going on, but we also can't turn every moment into a battleground.

What do we do? What can we do?

We have to create space with our teams and team members where we express, explore, and engage with one another in ways that spark connection rather than corrosion.

There is a really powerful research study out of MIT's Sloan School of Management, referencing nearly 1.5 million employee reviews.

You know what it says?

Toxic culture kills.

Toxic culture is 10 times more impactful than compensation to an employee considering leaving a company, much less choosing how much to engage with their work and team. That should terrify us, given our current workplace climate.

This is the work of real culture shift. It's the work of unlearning and relearning, the work of asking and listening, and the work of new frameworks, mindsets, and behaviors. 

That's our work.

And, that’s why we’re offering a 2-part series this year to address some fundamental skills of better culture building: Better Communication and Better Conflict.

Interested? 

We’re offering this 2-part series across 2025, on a first come first served basis.

This Spring and Summer we’ll be offering Better Communication, an engaging workshop designed to support team members in communicating more reflectively with themselves, more collaboratively with their teams, and more strategically across their organizations.

Through the Fall and Winter we’ll be offering Better Conflict, building on our first workshop together, and designed to support team members in engaging in conflict more productively and less personally by understanding the levels of conflict and what they seek to solve for us.

Connect with us to schedule your series today.

CONNECT

Risking the Asterisk

Let's face it: learning is hard. It asks us to push against what we think we already understand. It invites us into a world called "I didn't know that yet." 

That’s a hard place to be. 

And, sometimes the learning isn't even a straight line. Sometimes we run into an asterisk.

An asterisk asks us to check the margins, to skim to the bottom of the page, to look for an additional note somewhere.

It’s an extra. 

Not a bonus, exactly, but a here’s-something-else-you-should-know.

It’s hard to pay attention to the asterisks, sometimes. We risk losing our place. Our momentum. We’ve already built inertia, and looking away from what we’ve always done toward something else feels unnecessary. It feels like too much.

But what does following the asterisk give us? What reward follows the risk?

An asterisk unfolds new lenses, new perspectives, new context. It frames, or reframes, what we’re doing. It makes sense of the inertia we’ve already developed, and it often describes a different destination that demands we adjust our trajectory.

The asterisk doesn’t let us blithely or blindly commit to momentum simply because we’ve got it. It doesn’t let us float at the buoyancy line of we’ve-always-done-it-this-way, or rest on the laurels of our status quo.

What do we risk when we risk the asterisk?

Everything.

Everything we’ve ever done, and all the reasons we’ve ever done it.

Not to reject what’s come before, necessarily, but to redefine what could come next.

It’s a risk, yes. But one that’s worth it.

Let’s risk the asterisk.

The Siren Call of Civility

The word civility is getting a lot of airtime right now. 

And, in a season of anonymous online trolls and in-your-face politics, it’s a pretty seductive idea.

Can’t we all just get along?

Frankly, I’d be on board with that. Who wouldn’t? It sounds lovely.

But all the way from across-the-world global conflicts to across-the-street warring neighbors, we just don’t seem to be able to do it. 

Why not?  

The root of the problem might lie with the evolution of the word civility itself.

Civility comes from the Latin civilis, meaning “relating to public life” or “befitting of a citizen.” That sounds pretty good; it covers a lot of ground.

However, over a couple hundred years, the word migrated from a meaning related to citizenship to a meaning more anecdotally rooted in the “minimum standards of courtesy.” It became less associated with the challenging decisions of society-building and more associated with the ways society-builders (people with power) behaved in the room together.

In other words, civility came to be a word used as a compliment when people behaved nicely or politely.

“Civilized” conversations were conversations that eschewed difficult themes or potentially challenging topics. 

It moved toward easy. 

You see, “civil” as a way to practice citizenship within a community might very well mean talking about the tough stuff. But “civil” as a way to practice niceties means you avoid those things on purpose. 

By prioritizing our modern definition of civility, we’ve taught ourselves to avoid conflict rather than engage in it productively. We’ve said “Don’t talk about religion or politics at the dinner table,” and robbed ourselves of the practice of listening to one another and holding ideas in tension. 

Holding ideas in tension while holding the people who hold those ideas in trust or safety is hard. It’s complicated. It can feel uncomfortable or stretching. That’s a part of conflict.

Conflict is a learned skill, and civility has told us not to practice it. 

So what do we do? We might try to reclaim the word. Use it as it was originally intended. But, language changes. And if the word civility is now a stand-in for polite, it might not benefit us as much as we pretend it does:

It’s the antithesis of what we say we want, but it is the easiest way out. We feel good and, perhaps, sound good saying it.

It just doesn’t deliver what we actually want.

Instead, let’s learn the skill of conflict engagement, not avoidance.

It makes us, and everyone else, better.

LeaderShift 2023

(SCROLL DOWN FOR PICTURES)

LeaderShift is a gathering for folks who are inclusionists - people who are working to make the spaces they influence more equitable and just for all. Some have titles. Some don't. Some have been in the work for decades. Others are preparing to begin.

But all those who have a passion for DEI have a place at LeaderShift.

We gathered over 100 of these folks in Dayton, OH on May 18th, 2023 for a day of content and connection.

And it was an amazing day! It was reflective and fun. Relational and connective. We sank into deep conversation, and we danced. It was an absolute joy!

We'll be back in Dayton on May 16th, 2024, and in Columbus as well. Watch for that date coming soon!

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A few "thank you's" who made LeaderShift 2023 a success.

To all that attended - thank you. 💚  I call these events "gather-to-grow" events because if you all don't show up in power, grace, wisdom, and joy, it doesn't matter what I've got planned. You all showed up, and helped us all grow up. Thank you for trusting me with this day.

Sinclair Community College, Michael Carter, and Michele Marcum - thank you for hosting us. Your generosity and graciousness made the details of the day easy to manage, and your gift of the space made the day possible in the first place. Thank you for being excited about this vision with me.

Bleuzette Marshall, Jamille Jones, Laura Hutchinson, amaha sellassie, and Pascal Losambe, Ph.D. - thank you for your time and the treasure of your thinking. You collectively distilled decades and decades of expertise into a singular experience for us. We are beyond grateful.

To the people, companies and organizations that bought tickets, created space for time off, and handled responsibilities in the absence of our attendees, thank you.

Julian Myles Photography - thank you for capturing the day. You were a joy to work with!

To download these pictures simply right-click on them and "Save Image As".

GUTS & GRACE: unpacking and understanding unconscious bias

The “unconscious bias” train is still rolling, potentially even continuing to pick up momentum. Overall, I think this is great. It’s a push for us to understand more about the way our brains work, and how that influences how we see, understand, and, ultimately, evaluate people. Again, this is important dialogue.

And, we’re seeing these conversations playing out across a wide gamut of experience, from law enforcement procedures to nonprofit policies to CEO summits. People everywhere are talking.

But, not all talking is created equal.

Talking at someone isn’t quite the same as talking with someone, is it? And, when we’re dealing with ideas like bias, which can lead us right into conversations around prejudice and discrimination, most of us come in with our defenses up.

We’re half waiting to be shown how we’re wrong so we can adjust, and half waiting to defend ourselves when we are. 

And, in the midst of this kind of posturing, there’s always one thing that’s never actually getting dealt with: our bias.

So, how do we step into conversational or relational spaces ready to talk with someone, rather than at them? How do we disarm the defense mechanisms that spring so quickly into readiness.

Two words come to mind: guts, and grace.

First, we must accept the fact that, simply by virtue of being alive, we are biased creatures. Our brains are attempting to process an absurd amount of data, every moment of every day, and to the extent it can group that data into some kind of category, to simplify processing, it will.

That’s all bias is, really. An over-eager attempt by our brains to reduce something (or someone) down to the sum of just a few of their parts. Highly complex, nuanced, layered people become one data point - black, or female, or disabled, or white, or educated, or republican, or whatever bit of salience our brain decides to target. 

So, in order to productively confront some of those categorizations that are happening, which are likely happening before we realize they are, we must have the guts to acknowledge that they are, in fact, happening. That we’re biased. That given some set of cultural, historical, social, educative, and economic factors, are brains are reducing the people around us down from complicated, unique data sets to single-issue identities. 

That’s a bitter pill to swallow. 

We’d like to believe that we are above that, better than that. We hate to think of ourselves as judgers and evaluators. We scoff at the idea that we, you, me, are prejudicial and discriminatory. 

It takes real courage, real guts, to process that reality, and to accept it as true. And, unless we’re able to fully disabuse ourselves of the notion that we’ve somehow risen above this brain pattern and socialized norming, we’ll never actually be able to do much about it.

That’s the guts part.

You’re biased. Welcome to the human race.

And, this is where grace steps in. Grace is a confrontation of reality, not a sidestepping of it. Grace doesn’t allow us to pretend the bias isn’t happening; it asks us to “forgive” our brains for doing it. 

Not forgive and forget, though. Forgive and get better. 

There are two instances in which I see grace as a support to those who actually wish to become more aware of, and proactively address, their biases.

First, we give ourselves grace for messing up. We’re going to continue to use biased thought patterns. Even if we don’t want to. At some point, we’re going to do it. The best remedy for this, that I’ve found, is to acknowledge when it happens, give ourselves grace, ask for grace from the offended party, and seek to make it right.

It’s not helpful to us, or to others, to browbeat ourselves in private, or try to explain it away. It happened. Fix it. Move forward. 

Most people who are actually interested in being a part of productive conversation or relationship with you are more than ready for you to admit bias openly when it happens, and equally ready to move the conversation or relationship forward.

The second way I think grace plays in to this is in offering grace to other people, particularly to those who have been on the receiving end of lots of bias. It’s an exhausting existence to manage and carry other people’s bias about you, and for those that have to do this a lot, they are just that: exhausted.

And, sometimes that exhaustion and frustration comes out. Rightly, wrongly. Directly, passively. Loudly, quietly. Whatever. But it comes out.

And, because many of our biases are cultural and historic, some people have been facing the same bias, and its implications, for generations and generations. That’s a lot of weight to carry.

Those who are honestly interested in mitigating their own biases simply do not jump down the throats of those who experience large amounts of it. Even when the desire to “defend” oneself rears up, those who have had the guts to fully own their biased brains respond with grace. 

People are allowed to get mad about bias. People are allowed to be frustrated by prejudice. People are allowed to fight back about discrimination. 

Giving people the grace to do that, and the space in which they can be heard and listened to, can make all the difference in the world, to both parties.

Those experiencing the bias can be honest and forthright with their feelings about it, and those who expressed bias in some kind of way can embed into their experiences the hurt that bias can really cause. That’s a helpful emotional and mental pause button for next time.

We won’t “fix” bias. It exists, and seems to be hardwired into our brains, at least to some degree.

We can, though, mitigate its cascading effects by having the guts to acknowledge that we’re actually doing it, and by being grace-givers to all involved, offenders and recipients.

Guts and grace. It’s not complicated, but it does take a certain amount of courage.

And, we’re all worth it.

Dismantling the Myth of Psychological Safety

There’s sort of a lot of angst around the idea of psychological safety in corporate America. 

I’ve heard folks talking about it with the kind of tone used to imply, “Can you believe it?” There are eye rolls, and head shaking. It’s almost a “kids these days” kind of conversation. 

We hear things like, “When I was young, we just worked - we clocked in, did our jobs, and clocked out. No one needed to make us feel like magical rainbow unicorns. We didn’t need bring-your-pet-to-work days, or chai tea on draft, or drum circles of belonging. We just worked.”

Ok, I’ve never actually seen chai tea on draft. If you’ve got it at work let me know.

Now, I don’t mean to say this is always a case of the “older” generation coming after the “younger.” In my experience, though, those that lead teams are often a chronological step or two beyond those who are on the team. And, it’s often these team leaders who scoff at the idea of psychological safety. 

The gist that seasoned team members and leaders tend to give, the tone they tend to embrace, is that psychological safety is somehow for weak people. For people who need constant pats on the back and trophies for nothing.

I’ve seen many, many people seem to congratulate themselves that they would never need or want a space with “psychological safety.”

And, I’ve been in the room with these same folks who, when asked what’s not working on their teams or within the company, say nothing, don’t participate, or pretend to disappear, all because their bosses are present. 

Because they don’t feel safe critiquing anything in front of the person that can hold their next raise hostage or assign them the tasks no one else wants. Or, perhaps because they know if they seem too interested their buddies will haze them later for it. Either way, they don’t feel safe to engage.

I’ve been in rooms working to facilitate dialogue around tough issues, and people sit with their arms crossed, unwilling to engage with their own learning because learning is hard, and makes us feel vulnerable. They don’t feel safe to acknowledge the things they don’t know or haven’t yet considered.

The same people who poke fun at psychological safety for others believe deeply in it when their own embarrassment, vulnerability, or future is at risk. They often just don’t see the dissonance in their practice.

The reality of it is, though, everyone wants - even craves - psychological safety.

And, the results of it are pretty clear, too. The benefits of psychological safety are almost too good to be true. Increased buy-in, better engagement, quicker collaboration, higher assumptions of risk, braver innovation. Those are products every team could get behind.

What feels tough is the process to get there.

Before we get there, let’s make sure we know what psychological safety doesn’t mean.

WHAT IT ISN’T

Psychological safety doesn’t mean we have to treat everyone with kid gloves.

It doesn’t mean we can’t ever say anyone is wrong.

It doesn’t mean participation trophies simply for showing up.

It isn’t telling everyone they’re perfect just as they are.

And, it’s not an admission that business imperatives don’t matter as much as making people feel good (although we could argue that you won’t likely get the best of one without the other).

Psychological safety doesn’t mean that our employees are snowflakes, and will melt under the slightest bit of stress or pressure. We’ve seen the exact opposite be true over the last couple of years, haven’t we?

WHAT IT IS

So, if psychological safety isn’t any of those things, what is it?

Well, for one, it is “far and away” the most important dynamic to a successful and effective team, according to Google’s internal research. After assessing over 180 teams, they determined that successful teams weren’t as much about who was on the team, but about how they did team. And, developing psychological safety was the most important factor to creating success.

So, what exactly is psychological safety? 

If you ask 10 organizational consultants you’ll probably get 10 different answers, each with their own set of IP, models, and framework. 

But, they’re all going to have 1 central theme: the ability to take risks, make mistakes, or be wrong without fear of reprisal.

That’s it. Psychological safety is about establishing the trust to try.

To try.

Try then fail.

Try then lose.

Try new things.

Try then win.

Try then get confused.

Try too hard and get overwhelmed.

Try try try. 

All without embarrassment, fear, shame, risk, or retaliation.

It makes sense when you think about it like that. Of course it’s necessary that team members feel safe to try. It’s what we hope our team members are doing anyway.

But, trying doesn’t happen if there isn’t safety on the other side of it.

I’ll stop trying as soon as I get ridiculed for caring too much.

I’ll stop trying as soon as I get punished for failing.

I’ll stop trying as soon as I realize the risk outweighs the potential reward.

And so will every other team member on your team.

And, so will you.

This isn’t snowflake behavior; this is human behavior. We are not going to take unnecessary, unrewarded risks over and over and over. We just aren’t. And that’s not a bad thing.

WHY IT MATTERS

No matter what challenges you as a team leader or company executive are facing - tough recruiting, high turnover, employee disengagement, static processes, inhibited innovation, competitor surge, stagnated development - all of them can be assuaged by creating an atmosphere in which your team truly believes they get to try.

Fixed, no. Psychological safety won’t automatically fix anything. 

But, it is the vehicle by which the solutions to all those challenges, and more, can be collaboratively constructed as team members get to engage in a trust-filled space of trying and failing until they succeed.

In some sense, what we’re really talking about here is belonging, the idea that each and every team member so integrally belongs to the team, and the team to them, that they are showing up bringing the very best of themselves all the time.

That’s what belonging does; it inspires us to bring our very best, and to work hard to make our best even better.

Safety and trust aren’t edicts or memoranda, though. You can’t tell anyone they’re safe. 

Safety is a felt experience. You have to show, over and over and over again, that trying is always a route to praise, support, engagement, advancement, etc. 

You have to develop a culture of trust-filled space, where trying doesn’t get you laughed at, or mocked, or punished, or benched.

Create a trust-filled space and team members will fill it with “tries.”

Want to know more, or learn about creating trust-filled space with your team?

Reach out and let's chat.

Inclusion isn't being asked to dance

**NOTE: The originator of this quote, Vernā Myers, and I have had a couple of great back-and-forths about this idea. I deeply respect her work and words, and in no way is this an attack on her. Rather, it's a reflection of the evolution of DEI work, of continuing to set the bar higher, and of casting vision farther. The original quote is hers, as is much of the foundation of the work I stand on.

There's a popular phrase about diversity and inclusion making its social media rounds recently:

Diversity is being invited to the party; Inclusion is being asked to dance.

I get it. It's an effort to distinguish two terms that, for many, mean the same thing.

To this end, the statement is helpful. It articulates (though somewhat abstractly) that diversity is about representation, and inclusion is about involvement. Those are really different things, and it's important to help people understand that.

At the risk of reading too deeply into something not built to be analyzed, though, I have a problem with this phrase. Or, perhaps, more precisely, I believe that diversity and inclusion practitioners should stop using this phrase as a summary-statement or end-game phrase of D&I work.

The issue is that, at its heart, this is an oversimplification of complex ideas, and doesn't authentically represent what inclusion really could/can be. Both of these statements, the "diversity" and the "inclusion" one, are passive constructions. That is, there is an implication of someone else (not referenced directly in the statement) doing the inviting, and doing the asking.

To put it into corporate terms...

This phrase only really indicates that organizational diversity and inclusion is, at its best, those with leadership influence deigning to include others in their circles for brief moments, usually in celebrative ways rather than strategic ones.

Maybe I'm overly leaning into power structure dynamics, but when one asks another to dance, generally that's an ask coming from a position of relational power (in this case the comfort to believe that he/she won't be rejected), and unfolds accordingly, with the "asker" leading the dance. The one being asked remains a responder, both in the dance, and after.

It seems to me that espousing this idea that inclusion means being asked to dance is not only overly simplistic, it's dangerous. It allows that there is, and will be, a specific group that controls the "pace" and "space" of the dance floor.

What seems to me to be a better vision for this work is to create a sense where marginalized or underrepresented peoples are no longer dependent on an offer of brief "inclusion," but where they are equally able to be askers. That's a big shift, and I say this knowing it represents lots of organizational culture training, and time enough to bring more underrepresented peoples into leadership positions. It's also dependent on educational systems and inequities, the geographies of poverty and opportunity, traditional hiring practices, etc, etc.

But that's what we're shooting for, right? Full inclusion? Don't we desire a corporate culture that creates space for, and rewards, strategic practices, policies, and behaviors that allow all people not only to bring their fullest sense of self to work each day, but to lead out with their very best contributions toward that company's mission, vision and goals? Research indicates the closer we get to this ideal the better (also read, more profitable) our companies become. And, I believe, the better our companies become, the better our communities become.

Perhaps a better version of this statement might be:

Diversity is being invited to the party; Inclusion is dancing.

Or, better:

Diversity is being invited to the party; Inclusion is choosing the music.

Or, maybe at its best:

Diversity is going to a party; Inclusion is being a member of the party-planning committee.

I don't know. Maybe I'm way over-thinking it. But if I'm going to cast vision for, and be engaged in, a pursuit of something, it might as well be for something really worth chasing.

**To read the ongoing conversation about this article in the comments section, head to LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/inclusion-isnt-being-asked-dance-daniel-juday/ 

The Complexity of Common Ground

Now, it seems, perhaps more than ever, we are “missing” one another.

Our interactions can feel like brutal battlegrounds of ideology rather than connective conversations.

Our relational networks can feeling like they are pooling at opposite ends of the spectrum called “who’s with me and who’s against me.”

Now, more than ever, the idea of common ground feels like a fantasy. And, it is, when we pretend that common ground means we have to agree with one another about everything, or that we should talk about everything in isolation from history or culture. We can’t do those things.

In light of this, I was honored to be asked by a nonprofit resource center in northeast Ohio to design and facilitate an event to explore the nature of common ground, and seek to help people more effectively create and sustain it.

I called the event series “The Complexity of Common Ground,” and attempted to shape it around 2 ideas that often serve as barriers to authentic connection.

Additionally, we also referenced a couple of TEDTalk videos for further exploration:

This event series was sponsored by Adelante: The Latino Resource Center, and it was a pleasure to work with them to create and provide this as a resource to the public.