When politics at work is more than office politics

It’s been a big news month, with the indictment of Donald Trump, the expulsion of the Tennessee Three, the ruling on mifepristone, and plenty of other stories.

These huge events are often hard to talk about at work. Not so much in the immediate Boston area—the ultimate liberal bubble—but go a few miles west or south, and people on the other side of the political line are a meaningful minority.

If I want to create an inclusive environment in my organization, does that mean I have to make space for people with different political viewpoints?

I ask this in workshops sometimes. It definitely complicates the picture.

When the group seems to have a liberal consensus, I pose scenarios about conservative colleagues. Picture a cafeteria chat about current events in which the speakers make an assumption that everyone agrees with their take. Would someone who votes Republican feel left out?

During a workshop, I asked a group of leaders whether there were any Trump supporters on staff, and one said “I hope not! Certainly not any of the senior team.” Suppose a junior employee who leans conservative were to overhear that comment. What would they think? Would they feel a sense of belonging in the organization? Could they really bring their full selves to work and expect to advance?

In today’s reality, strong political clashes may just be a normal part of working together. But politics can be a real issue for managers and their direct reports. Imagine a management layer that is mostly Trump supporters. How might that affect the morale, engagement, and even mental health of employees of color or queer employees on that team?

I wrestle with this topic. I don’t believe all viewpoints are equally valid; the rhetoric and policies of Trump and today’s Republican party go beyond political difference. When put into effect, their policies deprive people of rights, dignity, and opportunity. How likely is it that a manager, who shares those belief systems, would spend time mentoring or providing professional development for someone whose identity—gender expression, race, or just voting record—they don’t support?

I don’t think there are any easy answers to this problem. In theory, it is best to leave people’s beliefs alone and focus on aligning the behavior that creates an equitable and inclusive environment. But now that DEI itself has become part of the political platforms, beliefs and behavior aren’t so easy to separate.

Sexual Assault Awareness...and cross-gender mentoring

When I was a young woman beginning my career, the guidance I received about avoiding sexual harassment and assault was directed at me. What I should wear, where and when I should travel alone.

And then, how to protect myself if my choice of outfit and path to my car turned out not to be enough.

I was fortunate that I didn’t experience harassment at work. But I know some who did, and I’ve read about many more. Their professional lives were disrupted, or even derailed, by inappropriate comments, invitations, physical behavior, and abusive power dynamics.

Today, the favored approach to preventing this discrimination is very different. As I write this (in Sexual Assault Awareness Month), I see more emphasis on teaching young men not to be predators. As wise as it may be to talk to daughters about being careful in a parking garage late at night, the issue is more directly addressed by talking to sons about women’s humanity and equality.

Thanks to the #metoo movement, awareness of sexual assault and harassment is broader than ever—including that abusers and predators target people of all genders.

I remember some voices of dissent (or backlash) at the time: men who said that they were so concerned that their actions might be interpreted as harassment that they were considering opting out of mentoring relationships with women.

I try to be empathetic with people who are learning, and allow space to grow. But this is a pretty outrageous reaction. Men continue to make up a disproportionate amount of senior leaders. As a group, they continue to hold outsized influence on the careers of women and other gender minorities—as mentors, coaches, references, and so on. Until this changes, we need men to be more active in support of the careers of those who have been traditionally underrepresented, not less.

The answer to increased awareness of sexual harassment isn’t “don’t mentor.” It’s “behave appropriately.” It’s not that hard. If you are anxious about your actions being interpreted as harassment, be conservative. Have the conversations in the office or cafeteria, not at a bar. Don’t make physical contact. Don’t expose yourself. These aren’t sacrifices; they are the same expectations you would have interacting with a male employee.

Have you noticed any changes in mentorship in your organization? Are the male leaders in your organization taking the time to support the careers of people with different genders? Is anyone pulling back?

If you’re in a position to encourage these important relationships, do some investigating. And coach folks if they express uncertainty.

A first-hand perspective on accessibility

If you are currently physically able-bodied, how often do you notice barriers to accessibility?

That’s the thing about privilege: if you don’t experience an obstacle, it’s easy to assume it doesn’t exist.

As a DEI consultant, I like to think I am always paying attention. Well, I am currently in a leg brace and on crutches due to an accident. And this lived experience is definitely heightening my attention. Is there an expression about walking in somebody else’s crutches?

Fortunately for me, my situation should be temporary. In the meantime, I am keenly aware of the privilege of being able-bodied in our society.

I was challenged from the first day I was crutches. The doctor’s office was pretty easy—the main doors have buttons to open them, and clinicians hold doors open for patients inside.

This is not the set-up everywhere. Actions I wouldn’t think twice about were suddenly convoluted puzzles. I went to a meeting in an office building, and when I needed to use the bathroom, I had to go through two doors, neither of which was automated—meaning I had to either put weight on my leg or get help.

Then, when I was leaving, I stood alone in one of those large elevator lobbies and pressed the call button in the middle of the elevator bank. The one on the far right opened, but by the time I got to it, the door had closed. I crutched back over to the button, pressed it again, and hustled as fast as I could. I had to use one crutch to stop the door from closing again. Once inside, I shook my head and laughed.

Now, when I think about going anywhere, I try to remember how accessible the place is, to see if it is worth trying to go there. Will it take me too long to get inside? Are the elevators easy to access? Will I be able to go to the bathroom without assistance? Truth be told, I haven’t been out much since.

Most buildings were built with the able-bodied in mind, so any retrofitting we do now might be out of the way or awkward. That’s the fundamental fact behind DEI efforts: many of our organizational systems were structured for those in the majority. All others had to adapt or make do.

We have come a long way with accessibility, and we still have a long way to go.