Inclusion, Inc.

How to Design Intersectional Equity into the Workplace

Sara Sanford

• Publisher: Wiley
• Year: 2022
• Print ISBN: 9781119849766
• eBook ISBN: 9781119850021
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Business
• Subtopic: Human Resource Management
• Index: Business

Design systemic equity and diversity into your organization

Inclusion, Inc: How to Design Intersectional Equity into the Workplace moves beyond having tough conversations to deliver an innovative and proven approach to organizational diversity. Eschewing the "mindset-first" approach taken by many diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) programs, author and GEN founder Sara Sanford focuses on countering the systemic barriers that abet inequity by adjusting "cultural levers" to facilitate organization-wide change.

Inclusion, Inc offers sustainable and cost-effective solutions that yield real, measurable returns, supported by:

• Data from thousands of surveys and interviews with executive-level changemakers.
• Case studies from GEN-certified organizations.
• Innovations drawn directly from the latest in behavioral economics and design-centered thinking.

Perfect for business leaders, human resources and DEI professionals, and scholars and students of business, Inclusion, Inc will also prove invaluable to underrepresented employees and their allies seeking real, evidence-based solutions to the dilemma they frequently face: assimilate, or leave.

PART 1
Equity—It's Not Personal, It's Systemic

CHAPTER 1
Beyond Good Intentions

I thought 2016 was going to be a year for the underdogs. The Cubs were having their moment. It had been 108 years since they had won a World Series.

Yes, Cleveland had home field advantage. Yes, the Cubs were coming back from a 3–1 deficit, and only five teams in history had come back from that far behind to win. But when I deplaned in O'Hare, I believed the fanaticism surrounding me could beat any odds. I hadn't felt that kind of energy since Seattle's “Refuse to Lose” euphoria in '95.

I wasn't in town specifically for the Series, but I came from a baseball-loving family, and my parents had Chicago roots, so I was going to soak it up while I had the chance. Everywhere I went, I was seeing either Cubs signs or Hillary signs. #ImWithHer banners peeked out from under End the Curse! flags. All around, history seemed to be in the making.

I was in Chicago for work, and at the time, I had what I thought was a corporate do-gooder's dream job, overseeing DEI programming for a large financial company. I had spent the first part of my career advocating for equity from the other side, either in nonprofits and international NGOs, or through the lens of public policy. I had seen the limits of working on systemic problems from the outside, and I wanted to drive change from within. So, I had made the leap to the financial sector, determined to diversify the original old boys' club.

At the time, I felt optimistic. My employer had invested both time and budget. Employees, including executives, had attended trainings. We made sure our website didn't feature only stock photos of white men, and we ramped up our recruiting efforts to diversify our candidate base for job openings.

We had also created affinity groups for people of color and women, to provide a sense of community and opportunities for networking. To support our women's affinity group, we decided to invite a dozen members to join our executive team at a major financial services conference in Chicago. They would have an opportunity to get to know our executives over an intimate dinner and learn how committed our leadership team was to our diversity initiatives.

The dinner fell on the seventh game of the Series. I caught the top half of the first inning in the hotel lobby before we all left together. At the restaurant, a mainly Black waitstaff showed us to our private dining room. Pseudo castle doors separated us from the rest of the restaurant. The waiters gripped the iron door handles with both hands, braced themselves, and heaved backward to unseal them and haul them open.

We had our own décor—mock Medieval. I imagined the instructions the waitstaff had probably been given to provide us with “exceptional” service in this finance-friendly steakhouse that resembled so many others.

For me, the dinner was a means to an end. I needed to see that our leadership team understood the promise of diversity initiatives as a business imperative. I wanted management to genuinely believe supporting inclusion was a good call.

Those hurdles had now been cleared. Our affinity group had made it to the castle. Around us hung wall art in powerful frames: out-of-period noblemen in braided coats on rearing steeds, both species puffing out exaggerated chests. These were no rough-shod ponies of the Wild West; flaxen manes cascaded over their elegantly rounded shoulders. Hooves glistened. These were proper equine trophies, symbols of their riders' net worth.

“Have you decided on your order?” A waiter interrupted my thoughts.

“The salmon, please. Thank you.”

As he left the room, I overheard a snippet of the Cubs game broadcast in the restaurant. Bottom of the fourth. I couldn't hear who was ahead.

I was seated between the VP of Business Development and my boss, a woman I looked up to and had learned from. She was one of few female leaders in the industry. Glancing around the table, I felt a brief sense of pride. The women from our affinity group seated with the executive team made this the most gender-balanced financial dinner I had attended.

I had gotten to know one woman at the table a little better during the conference. I'll call her Irene. She had confided to me that she had waited for decades to launch her own career in finance because she felt that, as a woman, she wouldn't have been taken seriously until a few years ago. I had assured her that she was in the right place, that our affinity networks were created with her in mind.

As the night went on, I lost track of how long we had been there. I excused myself to use the restroom. As I pushed open the heavy door to reenter the main restaurant, I saw there were no guests left. Tables had been wiped and chairs were stacked against the walls. I cringed. The waitstaff were patiently standing by the walls, hands folded over their aprons, waiting for us. We were already an hour over our time. We were the customers I had dreaded in a previous life. I apologized and said I'd try to get our group to wrap it up.

The kitchen radio blasted the game. They were headed into extra innings.

When I returned to our room, I told the group that we were the only ones keeping the place open and suggested we take the party back to the hotel bar. But the conversations carried on. After another 20 minutes, one of the Black waiters slipped in gingerly and asked if everyone was happy with their evening before they wrapped up for the night. He was ignored. He tried again. “I'm so sorry to put an end to what looks like such a fun night, but we are going to have to be closing up soon.”

Irene cut him off. “Oh, honey, we pay your bills, so we'll be leaving when we're leaving.”

Our server nodded and retreated. As the door was slowly closing, but still partially open, Irene exclaimed loudly, to the whole room, as if sharing a joke she needed everyone to hear the setup for, “You know what I miss? Back in my day, I could have called him ‘boy’ and no one would have had a problem with it. Back in my day, I could have had him fired for speaking to a white woman that way.”

A moment later I found myself standing. I was on my feet, an involuntary reaction, irrepressible. I was not weighing questions of correctness; it was far more basic. Somehow I thought I could not be the only one, but around the table my colleagues were only staring, staying seated, saying nothing.

“Oh honey, sit down, don't get upset,” Irene urged.

Nervous laughter rattled through the room.

My hands went cold. How could I be the only one? They all said they cared. They made public statements. What are they doing? Why is nobody saying anything?

A roar was audible from the kitchen. The Cubs had gone ahead.

When my voice came, it was shaking. “Back in your day,” I reminded Irene, “you wouldn't be sitting at this table. Back in your day, you wouldn't have been taken seriously as a woman in this profession. We're all here tonight because we don't want to go back to that time.”

An exec nervously pushed around chunks of his surf and turf. I picked up my purse and coat, gave the castle doors one last shove, and left.

I rushed past the servers waiting to clear our table, out of the restaurant, and into a lone taxi waiting like a lifeboat.

On the way back to the hotel, triumphal horns blared throughout the city. I wanted to rejoice with my euphoric driver, but I was stunned.

I was not a victim in this situation. Nor was I a hero—I was simply mistaken. I thought that because our company had invested in these inclusion initiatives, our culture had actually changed. I thought the executives sitting at that table who had stated their commitment to diversity and attended trainings would have stood with me. I didn't think I was going to be alone.

We had checked all the right boxes, but the unspoken code of conduct hadn't changed. We had had our moment of truth, and nobody stood up.

And by running the programs that let us think we were the good guys, I was complicit.

How had this happened?

≈

The following Monday, I got the call from HR: My position no longer existed in the organization. I was terminated, effective immediately. The reason given was a recent merger. I knew about that merger. I had helped coordinate the resulting reorg, and I knew that all staffing decisions had been made months ag...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Table of Contents
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Dedication
• Language Guide
• PART 1: Equity—It's Not Personal, It's Systemic
• PART 2: Adjusting Cultural Levers
• PART 3: Zooming Back Out—The Big Picture
• Acknowledgments
• About the Author
• Index
• End User License Agreement