For more than 25 years, my work has focused on people—how they lead, communicate, navigate change, work through conflict, and perform at their best. Through it all, one thing has become clear: you cannot optimize ANY aspect of human and organizational performance without an inclusion lens. That isn’t a slogan, a fad, or even a movement. It’s a business imperative.
Leadership development doesn’t happen in a vacuum. Neither does team effectiveness, communication, or organizational change. Performance is shaped by the assumptions we make about one another and the everyday behaviors that determine whose ideas carry weight, who gets developed, who gets stretched, and who gets overlooked.
The Assumptions we Make
How can an individual perform at their best when they are receiving repeated and subtle messages that “they are less than,” “they don’t belong,” or “they will never get to the top”?
My commitment to this work has been reinforced by the seemingly small actions and comments that colleagues, clients, friends, and even I have experienced throughout the years. Some may have been well intentioned, but nonetheless reflected biases, assumptions, and expectations that influence how we see—and respond to—one another.
Here are a few examples:
“Now that you have a baby, we know you won’t want to travel anymore, so we have figured out a great new role for you.”
“I can tell within five minutes whether someone is a ‘fit’ for my company.”
“I would never hire anyone my age. We are too old.”
“I have a PhD, am 6 feet, 3 inches tall, and am afraid EVERY day on my way to work of being pulled over by the police.”
Owning my bubble
As a white woman I have lived in a bubble like many of us. I am privileged in many of the typical ways, being white, well-educated, and upper-middleclass. One of the less obvious privileges I have had was going to a small, private suburban school from kindergarten through 10th grade. But this school was not privileged in the way you are most likely envisioning, with elite facilities and pedigreed families who were all rich except for the scholarship students. Wrong. In fact, this school had a hodgepodge of buildings ranging from domed structures to trailers to a 100-year-old house. It was diverse in every aspect of our world – race, culture, ethnicity, religion, demographic location, socio-economic category. It was a school founded in 1941 by “educational pioneers” George and Annemarie Roeper. As their website says, “after fleeing Germany to escape Nazi persecution, they established a school in Detroit with the goal of educating children to become thoughtful, humane adults.
The privilege of this school was not due to sterling facilities or societal prestige. It was its philosophy and its environment. It was truly a place of free expression, free pursuit of intellectual passions and complete acceptance.
However, Roeper was also a place riddled with stereotypes and biases. Riding the free bus with the kids who attended schools in the surrounding area, I heard every day:
· “You go where all the weird people go.”
· “Say something smart.”
· “Why would anyone go to a school with igloos?” (referring to the K-1 dome buildings)
These questions and comments made it clear that while Roeper was my “happy” place, it wasn’t a “normal” place. When I hit my teenage years, I headed for the “normalcy” of public school and never looked back.
Life outside the bubble
Years later, I began to understand just how much my experience at Roeper had shaped the way I see people and organizations. It was a place that was diverse, fair, and inclusive—where people could pursue their passions, find belonging, and be valued for who they were. I found myself appreciating those 10 years in a new way and recognizing the power of environments that don’t simply accommodate differences but embrace and thrive BECAUSE of them.
Today, that perspective is a fundamental part of how I approach my work. Because life outside the bubble is a lot more interesting, satisfying, and fulfilling for all of us.