Hard Lessons the ‘Other’ Parkland Students Can Teach Us About Inclusion

Two weeks ago, I watched with awe and in amazement as hundreds of thousands of young people demonstrated across the U.S. and around the world. Spearheaded by Parkland students who had been traumatically impacted by violence earlier this year, the March for Our Lives effort was unlike any our nation had ever seen. It was lauded for its size and strength; speed of galvanization, organization, and execution; unified message and purpose; earnest, authenticity and transparency; and “extraordinary inclusiveness”. Support was far-reaching and widespread with everyone (peers, celebrities, businesses, and media alike) seemingly a part of the #NeverAgain movement.

Yet, this past week, ‘other’ Parkland students -- a group of Black students from Marjorie Stoneman Douglas (MSD) High School subjected to the same violence as their March for Our Lives organizers, spokespersons, and classmates -- publicly divulged that they were are not only being overlooked by media but, by the movement itself. Mei-Ling Ho-Shing, a 17-year-old junior at MSD told HuffPost (in reference to a meeting the March for Our Lives organizers had with students in Chicago about gun violence),”We’re saying you don’t see much of us at the forefront...It hurts, because they went all the way to Chicago to hear these voices when we’re right here...We go to school with you every day.” With that, my heart sank.

This collective student body, diverse in every aspect, sharing an overall experience (youth), engaging in a common culture (high school), and moving in unison toward united goals (graduation, college/career, the future), would at face value -- and by the invisible checklist applied to most organizations -- be considered inclusive. However, it must be understood that just because one is in a collective, it doesn’t automatically mean one is of the collective. In their own words, the ‘other’ Parkland students validate this notion.

I’ve been weighing this “inclusion in name only” concept since the Parkland ‘others’ spoke up and out and have given considerable thought about its applications within the workplace. There are countless ‘others’ that exist in our organizations. We work with and alongside them everyday. They are the invisibles embedded in our organizations’ cultures, who contribute to our respective visions and missions, meet every goal, and add immeasurable value to the vitality and sustainability of the same. Yet, we don’t ask to hear their opinions. We don’t create opportunities or platforms for them to represent themselves.We don’t acknowledge their knowledge, skills, and abilities but will appropriate their contributions. We rarely allow them to voice their experiences for themselves. Instead, we speak on their behalf. We tap into our internal employee affinity/business resource groups to act as their spokespersons. We solicit external diversity-based agencies to organize our own internal outreach efforts. In essence, we disenfranchise ‘others’ in the name of inclusion.

If we truly want to be inclusive, we have to follow cultural innovator Vernā Myers’s advice above and (perhaps) consider my thoughts below.

THOUGHT #1) One of the assertions made by the ‘other’ Parkland students was that they have been “thoroughly underrepresented and, in some cases, misrepresented.” We -- the gatekeepers of employee culture -- have to go beyond inviting our organizations' ‘others’ to be present on committees and in meetings and events about them but, that do not involve them. To actually engage, we have to ensure 'others' have not only the access, means, and resources to participate but also the empowerment to actively do so. The ‘others’ need to know when they voice their opinion that they will be heard and heeded, that their ideas will be developed as appropriate, and that their presence and gravitas are respected when in the room.

THOUGHT #2) We must build real connections, not simple associations or affiliations with whom we work. That means we need to be more transparent in our intentions and aware of their impact when engaging ‘others’. Springboarding from the old Southern adage, “God don’t like ugly and He ain’t too fond of cute either,” bad intentions are not easily masked. When ‘others’ sense they are being used for what they have to offer, they rebuff any and all attempts at connection and engagement. Likewise, those with good intentions must be cognizant of the impact their attempts to connect and engage might have. For example, one might consider a photo opportunity with a team of ‘others’ in support of an organizational effort as great for them (visibility-wise) and the organization (brand reputation-wise). However, the photo op may be unwittingly positioning the team as endorsers of the effort, which they may or may not support as they were never asked about or had not yet bought into. Here, the intent is well in meaning but the impact is that the team of ‘others’ feel used and are now distrusting of the organization.  It is always best to have genuine and authentic conversations about what it is that we are trying to achieve and why we want ‘others’ to be and play a part.

THOUGHT #3) Capturing low-hanging fruit -- those less visible than our organizations' rockstars but more visible than our organizations' invisible 'others' --  is not an inclusion strategy. Just as the tide raises all boats, so, too, should our inclusion strategy engage all uniformly. Whether we're C-Suite leaders charged with leading organizations, human resources and diversity practitioners responsible for engagement, or managers and supervisors tasked with productivity, we all need to make our interactions with those with whom we work more deliberate. We must go beyond interacting with those in our comfort zones. Moreover, we must check our own biases when we do. For instance, the unspoken practice of selectively saying "hello" and "good morning" to those with rank while ignoring those without is not inclusive, it’s exclusive and rankist. Taking deliberate action to walk around the office to greet everyone (regardless of rank), to learn their names (and more), and to understand how they add value to the organization is the embodiment of inclusion.

THOUGHT #4) Finally, we have to stop weaponizing and politicizing belonging as a means to sort who’s in-group versus who’s out, who’s point of view gets heard and who’s doesn’t. If inclusion means everyone invited to the party gets to dance, then we, as the DJs responsible for the music, have to ensure that the music mix is diverse enough for everyone to enjoy. We can’t customize the playlist to our liking alone. Nor should we play only one or two genres of music because “majority rules”. Ideally, the goal is to get everyone on the dance floor dancing (especially the ‘others’ who might traditionally act as wallflowers). And you know what that means? At some point we’re all doing the Electric Slide, Gangnam Style, Macarena, Cotton Eyed Joe, and the Chicken Dance.

To the 'other' Parkland students, I applaud you for challenging the status quo, for taking back your voice, and for calling out the exclusion you've faced. You're an inspiration to the disparaged as well as motivation to me.

To the 'others' within the workplace who have yet to have their say, I SEE YOU and will continue to do my part to drive inclusion, to create opportunities for you to be both seen and heard, and to challenge others to do the same.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Todd Corley is the Chief Diversity & Inclusion Officer at OhioHealth (ranks as a "100 Best Companies to Work For" by FORTUNE magazine) and Chief Catalyst of The TAPO Institute, a strategic workforce engagement think tank. With two books (Fitch Path: A Cautionary Tale About A Moose, Millennials, Leadership & Transparency and The Great Global Check Out: Millennials, iGens, and the Growing Epidemic of Disengagement) and nearly twenty years of diversity and inclusion leadership experience, he is considered a key voice for inclusive leadership in the global arena.