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Writer's pictureFletcher Consulting

Whose Comfort?

Whose comfort do we prioritize?

Ten minutes before the end of a recent workshop, a participant introduced a profound question for her colleagues to consider. 


“Whose comfort do we prioritize?”


We’d been discussing microaggressions: someone saying something or behaving in a way that excluded, insulted, or disrespected a colleague based on a stereotype or implicit bias. This diverse team was working on recognizing the impact, trying out responses, and learning from each other.


As we were summing up for the day, this participant prompted us to step back from an individual situation and look at the pattern. 


She said something like:


I hear us worrying a lot about how to respond to someone being inappropriate. 


What I want to know is, what about the person who was harmed by their behavior? 


If someone touches my hair, mispronounces my name, or tells me my English is so good, will this organization prioritize my well-being? I need to know that my comfort matters as much as theirs. 


If not, how can I feel safe and included here?


The emotion in her voice signaled that this wasn’t hypothetical. 


She called on her peers to be bold, active, and consistent in responding to microaggressions in ways that protect the dignity of those harmed first, even if that makes the person responsible feel bad in the moment.


It’s harder than it sounds. I may feel the impulse to laugh at a joke, even if it’s offensive. I mean, I don’t want to be rude.


But of course, it’s not me that’s rude; it’s the person who made the joke. 


And when I laugh, especially if others are present, I send a signal that the joke is okay. A signal picked up by others who might tell similar jokes, and also by those who are the target of the joke’s stereotypes.


Their discomfort should be more important than the potential discomfort of a person whose joke falls flat. 


And if I placate one person by laughing at their offensive joke, I am doubling down on the harm to the other person.


Changing this “culture of nice” takes practice, leadership, and even policy change. It is uncomfortable work.


For some of us—as this brave colleague reminded her peers—it’s been uncomfortable all along. 

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