A story about the stories we tell

One of the important premises of unconscious bias trainings is that no one is immune. Spotting patterns and making quick judgments is built into every human’s brain. DEI facilitators are not immune.

Several years ago, a colleague and I were co-facilitating a workshop at a law firm on building an inclusive culture. A group of men walked in, sat down in the back row, folded their arms, and stared at us. They weren’t hostile, but they didn’t look friendly.

In a matter of seconds, an entire story unfolded in my head about this group. These men had only come because the managing partner had made the workshop mandatory. I knew what they were thinking about: all the work on their desks, and the billable hours that they are missing. I knew that they believed DEI work isn’t worth their time. I even knew their future behavior: they were not likely to be very engaged during the session. And I would want to be prepared for one or more of them to be, shall we say, difficult.

Now, resistant participants don't throw me off. I have enough experience to understand that everyone comes in with different life experience and knowledge. Challenging people with new perspectives and information is an essential part of the work. Still, their skeptical energy triggered a set of facilitation strategies for me. I mentally adapted my approach in subtle ways to account for their state of mind.

Fast forward to the end of the workshop. The group was synthesizing what they’d learned and brainstorming strategies to make change in the organization. The topic had turned to barriers women face in the firm, and whether family leave policies might be an area to examine. In the midst of this active discussion, a young woman in the front made a comment:

“There is no glass ceiling for women in law firms,” she said, with intensity. “Women shouldn’t get any special accommodations. Being a lawyer is demanding, and if you do the work, you’ll make partner. If you don’t, this isn’t the career for you.”

I looked at this young woman, surprised and a little disappointed. It was clear to me that she wasn’t anywhere near the glass ceiling, yet she was adamant in her position. What gave her such a strong opinion about something she hadn’t yet experienced?

As I was thinking about what I was going to say to her, I saw a hand go up. It was one of the men in the back. He had a look of irritation on his face.

My heart sank. I had to call on him but feared he’d jump on this contrary bandwagon with limited time for us to course correct. I inhaled and gestured to him. “Yes?”

“Come on,” he began. “If the firm really wanted to fix this problem, we would. It’s not that hard.” Everyone turned to look at him.

“Fifteen years ago, a colleague in my department went out on maternity leave. There wasn't any formal program in place so the rest of us stepped up to handle her matters while she was on leave. We helped her transition out and back in. Now she is a partner. We just have to pull together to do it. It’s not that hard.”

In that moment, I realized I had fallen prey to one of the key lessons we teach in our workshops. We tell ourselves stories about people very quickly, and those stories stick. I had formed a model in my head about this participant based on his gender, his age, his race, his body language. That model was influencing how I facilitated—who I made eye contact with, who I called on, how deep to take certain lines of questioning.

And then, one of the people in my mental story who was supposed to be disinterested showed up as a strong ally, making a passionate argument for a concrete way the organization could be more equitable. Meanwhile, the pushback had come from someone I assumed would be an advocate, based on her gender. I had read them both wrong.

I now think of this workshop as a double success story. We had fostered an environment where people could speak freely and honestly, ultimately voicing constructive solutions. The dialogue that opened up here was going to make a difference for their firm.

But there was another learning moment too: my own. It was a reminder to watch out for my own biases.

Even as an anti-bias facilitator, I can never prevent my brain from forming instant stories about people. But now, when I see a group of men settling into the back row with their arms folded, I have a new story to tell.

When workshops won’t work

Several years ago, after I had facilitated a lively workshop on unconscious bias at a financial services firm, the client walked me to the elevator. He was beaming. “It was fantastic!” he said, handing me the check. When the elevator doors opened, he turned to me and said, “I wish I could say, ‘Hope to see you again soon!’” I cocked my head. “Well, if I see you again soon, it means we’re in trouble!” I smiled as he shook my hand and worked hard not to respond, “I think you may already be in trouble.”

His comment reminded me of one of three warning signs that a DEI training will not have the impact that an organization hopes it will have. When I see any of these dynamics at play, my experience tells me that a workshop likely won’t be worth the investment of time and money for the client. For them, gathering staff for a few hours will check a box, but they should not expect to see any significant change in equity or inclusion.

You don’t want this to happen to you! Ask yourself: are any of these true at my organization? If so, you might want to go a different direction. Otherwise, you might have a great time and learn a few things, but you won’t be any closer to your DEI goals.

When do workshops not work?

1. When you only have one. This is the red flag I saw at the financial services firm. They called me in a panic after an “incident.” The leader believed that a single session on bias was like an inoculation. Now that we’ve done some exercises together, everyone knows how to spot a stereotype! So, like magic, all of us will be immune. If only this were true—we would live in a more just world. But, as in any adult learning, we don’t internalize knowledge or develop skills without repetition and practice. Learning has to be sustained to stick. And only when that learning is complemented with structural change, informed by assessment and guided by strategy, will an organization truly grow more inclusive and equitable.

2. When hot personal dynamics are bubbling over. I’ve heard more than one client say, “We tried a workshop last year, but it ended up making things worse. We had to do damage control.” I suspect in many of these cases, this second warning sign wasn’t heeded. Many leaders are facing demands from employees to address persistent issues of sexism, racism, and cultural norms that alienate the diversifying workforce. These can be among the most challenging situations they have faced in their careers. Offering a workshop can feel like a visible, positive step to get things started (and sometimes it is). But if any underlying interpersonal conflicts are not surfaced and addressed first, a workshop can cause bubbling tension to boil over. Negative interpersonal dynamics undermine the emotional safety that a group needs to learn together. If that safety isn’t secure, you may want to wait on a workshop.

3. When they are mandatory. Research is clear on this one. Yes, ultimately, you need everyone on board with the goals of equity and inclusion. But not everyone understands or supports the work of DEI at first, and a workshop alone won’t get them there. If you force people to go who are opposed to the process, they often resist. This looks like disengagement at best, and active trolling or hostility at worst. Supportive and neutral employees—and facilitators—are forced to respond to this behavior, taking away time and energy from the training itself. Best to start with those who are willing, curious, and eager, and build outward.

Okay, so let’s say you fit one of these three situations. If you are racing toward booking a workshop, hit pause. At least if that’s all you have planned. Workshops may still be useful as part of an overall package, alongside assessments and a strategic planning process. Trainings play an important role in cultural transformation: they help an organization develop a common language, provide an opportunity for participants to practice what might be difficult conversations across differences, get to know each other more personally, and generate excitement and enthusiasm about the work. A really effective workshop can turn someone from “interested” to “passionate” in just a few hours, building toward the critical mass of buy-in needed to affect real change.

As you consider your best move, check for the three warning signs. If you have only planned out as far as the end of the workshop, take time to determine what happens next. If people have been complaining about being treated badly on the basis of identity, tell any consultant you’re working with up front. They can be aware and ready to attend to anything that might surface in the workshop, and advise on other steps to take.

And while you should stay away from calling it mandatory, there are ways of going almost that far. One client sent an enthusiastic email from the leader indicating that they and the leadership team would be participating in the workshop themselves. They stressed how important it was for the organization, and showed that value with their own priorities. They offered lots of options to participate, in terms of scheduling, in-person vs. remote, etc. Finally, they used this clever formulation: “Everybody is expected to attend, but if you’re not able to make it for some reason, please send me an email explaining why.” If there were dissenters, that’s fine—let’s find out who they are and begin those conversations outside of the group.

If your workshop goes well, you can thank the facilitator, hand them their check, and say, “Looking forward to seeing you again soon!”

Independence Day’s real meaning

I like fireworks. I love getting together with family and friends to enjoy a summertime celebration. And a long weekend is always welcome. So on the whole, the July 4 holiday is okay with me.

As for Independence Day—the reason we take July 4th off of work—my feelings are mixed. On the one hand, I honor the epochal fight that the American colonists waged for freedom from colonial rule. Their victory signaled an era of Enlightenment ideals about human rights and democracy moving closer to reality.

And yet, those ideals have not become reality. Despite what many of us were taught in school, they weren’t even fully expressed by the men we credit for founding this country.

Yes, the Declaration of Independence that Thomas Jefferson wrote says that “all men are created equal.” But of course, he and the other property-owning white men in Philadelphia had a very different definition of “all” than we have today. One that would not have included me.

So, along with the cookout, I spent some of this holiday weekend reflecting on all who were excluded from that declaration. Every woman on the continent. Every kidnapped and tortured African. Every human being living on the land before the Europeans arrived with disease and violence. According to the revolutionaries we celebrate on the 4th, none of these millions of people had inalienable rights endowed by their creator. I honor those whose independence went undeclared in 1776.

And I see that year as only part of the story of our country, a prelude to the Constitution these same men would write a decade later. This hallowed document wrote the rights of a majority of people out of existence—and set a trap that would block these rights for centuries. The framers constructed a process that could broaden the group included in the protections of the Constitution, yes. But it stacked the odds, requiring an Amendment to be approved by Congress and ratified by two thirds of the states.

The United States, granting its landmark freedoms to its ruling class, built a system that legally enslaved, oppressed, and excluded Black people, Indigenous Americans, Asian Americans, Latinx Americans, women, other gender minorities, the poor—everyone other than land-owning cisgender white men like its founders.

That is our nation’s original sin that continues to shame us today. Just this month, the Supreme Court claimed a Constitutional basis to deny women control of our bodies. A hard-fought battle for this freedom was won almost 50 years ago, and now five men and one woman have rolled it back.

We’ve seen this pattern before, recently with voting rights. It took a Civil War to ratify amendments preventing enslavement—with a brutal exception that has led to mass incarceration, and a social backlash that maintained white supremacy in every institution in society.

Conservatives and their Supreme Court judges say they want to return to the ideals on which this nation was founded. They are succeeding. We have a republic that preserves the life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness of the founding fathers and those like them. And it leaves the rest of us unprotected and unbelonging.

So, this Fourth of July, I enjoyed the fun and community. And, like the great American Frederick Douglass, I also mourned the cruelty and narrowness of the “independence” we settle for while remaining hopeful of our ability to create change and achieve the promise of an America for all of us.