Fitting In
The last couple of weeks in Australian news has smashed the comforting-but-deluded illusion that we behave as a gender- or colour-blind society.
I'll admit, I used to roll my eyes at "social justice warriors" who seemed to make a bigger deal of things than they seemed to be. Perhaps a few years ago, I would have even empathized with those who will inevitably say that posts like these are inappropriate for LinkedIn.
But while confronting stories about sexism or racism are a choice for the plurality, they are a fact of life for many in the workplace.
If you asked me 5 years ago, I'd proudly wear a "model minority" badge. I grew up Australian in a blue-collar migrant family, originally from Asia. In my first full-time job out of university, I already earned more than both of my parents could combined (sounds like a brag, but it's actually a testament to how hard my parents worked and saved to reinvest into my sister and I).
But looking back with a richer understanding of power dynamics, I realize my success depended on my ability to fit in.
At first glance, you'd assume that "fitting in" shouldn't have been hard for a male who was born and raised in Australian culture. And things started off great: I grew up in a multicultural schooling system. Almost half of Melbourne High School were of South and East Asian descent, and I saw many others that looked like me at the University of Melbourne too. I loved both environments and believed that Australia was a meritocracy.
Even when I started working, I developed a reputation for being a conscientious, intelligent, but quiet achiever. I was promoted swiftly for it. Another sign that Australia's multicultural system was working! At this stage of my life, I would wonder what was up with the noise people would make about diversity and inclusion - clearly, if you worked hard, you'd get far.
But something about that "quiet achiever" tag gnawed away at me. Going from university to work felt like a big confidence hit, and I never fully understood why at the time. At first, I put it down to being the most junior in the ranks and having a bit of imposter syndrome. Maybe it was because I was no longer a peer amongst many, like in the schooling system. Maybe I was a little introverted or shy too. But people who know me now, or back in my undergraduate degree, wouldn't have thought I was particularly reserved - in fact, I was quite outspoken about my beliefs at the time!
Recently, I've realized that this is all about "fitting in".
In my upbringing, I never actually learned how to properly socialize with Western culture. My parents didn't speak English at home, and I tended to make friends who were similarly raised "bicultural". Work was the first place where I was thrown into a white, male culture. And a lot of the first 5 years of my career was simply learning how to fit in - talk like them, have interests like them, and basically not seem like a weirdo (I always felt weird).
The worst thing that happens when you try to fit in is that you also tolerate the worst things that happen around you. When I was in all male teams, I'd occasionally observe a "locker room comment" made about female clients or colleagues. While I never participated in this, I did not dare to raise the slightest objection given how much I already felt like an outsider. Although these comments were not abuse, they were unprofessional, uncomfortable, and icky.
As I progressed further in my career, I started to wonder why I seemed to be one of the few males who would talk about imposter syndrome. I actually started to feel a bit guilty that I might have been unintentionally trivializing something that seemed to happen disproportionately to women. But as a first-generation migrant, I realized that I felt what many would feel when they were different to a monoculture - those same subtle feelings of exclusion and not belonging.
The last couple of weeks has made me wonder: for all the "locker room comments" I've witnessed, how many have women had to put up with? How many played along to fit in with the "boys club"? And what scares me the most: how many situations for abuse were normalized by this kind of "harmless behaviour"?
As someone who started out sceptical of the "woke" social justice movement, I’ve always thought it was a bit alarmist to tar entire groups ("white men"), because clearly not all men are like this. Those who participate in some of this behaviour probably don't even realize they're doing something wrong. But sometimes it only takes one influential person with outdated beliefs to make others follow along (starting with the more junior white men) in the room. It then creates a dangerous cascade of acceptability that sets up the situations that enable the viler behaviour that we have heard about in the last couple of weeks.
But my hope is this: even if a laggard on social justice (me) can come around, then I believe positive change can take place. If my own ordinary story can help me empathize with how easy it is to enable and sustain a perverse monoculture, then I believe many other Australians are already starting to draw upon similar stories as well.