Girl, Put Your Headphones On

A few short weeks after the election, I boarded a plane to Florida, poised to sink into my seat of choice—the window—where I always do one of two things: marvel at the clouds on a sunny day, or monitor them on a stormy one.

A tall, white man who looked to be in his late-sixties or early seventies was settled comfortably in the aisle seat reading a book. After I sat down, he asked what I do for work. It had been a long week, but I didn’t want to be rude. "Good people" talk, even when they don’t want to.

“I’m an author and a consultant,” I responded, with a forced smile.

“What do you write and consult about?” I couldn’t tell if he were genuinely curious or just making small talk.

“Leadership,” I said, aiming to keep things simple for both of us.

“Oh, yeah? Me too,” he chuckled. “Not really, but I founded a company, and I do lead people.”

“So how do you define leadership?” he asked. I took a deep breath.

?“I believe leaders are responsible for unleashing talent fully, freely, and fairly to drive business results,” I said, pausing for emphasis. “Some people consider that DEI. To me, it’s just what great leaders do.” I let it simmer. I knew I’d opened a can of worms, and they immediately began squirming. His facial expression looked as if disdain and apathy had a baby.

The rest of our conversation was all over the place. He opined that DEI was unfair, and I asked what he thought it meant. His understanding was that it meant giving unqualified people jobs just because of their race or gender. I told him that what he described is illegal, and while I understood how his oversimplified view was the narrative being peddled, DEI is most certainly not that.

Maybe I shouldn’t have bothered to continue, but I went on to explain each letter—D-E-I—in ways I hoped might illuminate the true nature of the work, because acronyms, as we continue to see, are woefully insufficient and easily weaponized.

“Diversity allows companies to benefit from varied perspectives and experiences. It expands our vision and ensures we can remain relevant to as many people as possible into the future.” He was still listening, so I kept talking.

“Equity is not about giving unqualified people an edge – it’s about balancing the scales that have been imbalanced for generations by ensuring everyone has equal access to the insight, networks, resources, and opportunities they need to be successful. It means everyone has a shot to get the job, and that they’re fairly compensated when they do."

“And inclusion is leading in ways that acknowledge, invite, trust, leverage, and support all people. Making sure every person feels part of the team and can contribute to outcomes.”

I felt proud of myself, but he liked his explanation better, and seemed disinterested in anything that might challenge his beliefs. In whole, our discussion touched upon a lot of topics: the lack of generational wealth for brown and Black families due to racism in hiring and housing and banking; whether poverty is the result of poor choices or an institutional design; America as the land of opportunity or not and for whom, and—most profound in my eyes—independence vs. interdependence. He valued the former. I, the latter.

At least a few times during our conversation, in response to my attempts to address his false equivalencies, he replied with a dismissive and deceptively simple “I just don’t care.” It was a pleasant enough conversation on the surface, but I was disheartened—not because his perspectives surprised me. (I’ve heard it all.) I was disheartened because, once again, it made me question whether we can survive what I see as our most profound illness as Americans: the complete lack of consideration or care for people beyond our front doors. The blatant and infectious self-interest.

To challenge my own frame, I recalled every word and phrase I’d heard uttered by conservatives as a contrast to “liberalism” over the past several months: Liberty. Freedom. Merit. Choices. Work ethic. Opportunity. Independence. Individualism. I forced myself to consider their opposites, thinking it might help me perceive the problem differently: Subjugation. Captivity. Inferiority. Control. Laziness. Adversity. Dependence. Collectivism. I had to admit that, save collectivism, they didn’t sound great. If I believed the paradigm was this black and white, I might bristle against “liberalism” too. But the former ideas are not real—or at least not that simple—for those who’ve been relegated to the margins of society. Our aims were more complex, and our lenses— more expansive and inclusive. For us, this was not about contrast. It was about saturation.

Our response to liberty is not subjugation, for example, but “liberty for all.” Our response to freedom is not captivity, but “financial and psychological and spiritual and bodily freedom for all.” Our response to “merit” is “fairness for all.” In most cases, it’s an opening we seek, not an alternative.

This mental exercise reminded me of what I already knew: some people who’ve never been disadvantaged based on race or gender or ability or sexual orientation tend to believe that their achievements are of their own doing. They don’t recognize the invisible advantages that connections and socially acceptable characteristics and generational inheritances provide them. They think every good thing that happens for them is to their credit, and every bad thing that happens to another is to their shame. The caste-based threads woven throughout societies are unseen and unfelt to people who’ve never tripped on one while traveling toward a dream.

The story of who we really are is being told in real time. I'm not sure how it will end. But I do know this: In my own life, I hold the pen.

I’m not obligated to include everyone in my story. A week after my conversation with the airplane stranger, my husband and I saw him again at the airport. I pretended not to see him. He pretended not to see me. And I was fine with that.

Girl, put your headphones on,

Tara Jaye Frank

Tara Jaye Frank is author of The Waymakers and CEO of The Waymakers Change Group, a leadership and culture consultancy that helps companies unlock greater contribution across talent segments using our proprietary method, The Way. Tara is also a LinkedIn instructor and a grateful mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend...and helper.