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On a clear, sunny day in Seattle, I get to marvel at a giant, snow-peaked mountain right in my line of sight. I know y’all (out of Seattle) believe it’s always rainy here, but Seattleites leave that story unchecked so the traffic doesn’t get worse. :) As you can see, she’s absolutely breathtaking. Photo by Lalit Gupta via Unsplash For the first 8.5 years I lived here–I can’t believe I moved in 2013!–I knew this majestic beauty as Mount Rainier. Then, I read an article that described not only how Mount Rainier was the colonized name for what was traditionally named “Tahoma” in the Puyallup language of the Coast Salish people indigenous to this area, it was arrogantly renamed by George Vancouver to honor his friend. A one Mr. Rainier was an English naval officer who had never seen this mountain. A person who hadn’t even ever seen the mountain in real life, nor visited this region had it renamed for him. I was astounded by the hubris, the arrogance and the reminder that even 230 years since a white colonizer carelessly rewrote thousands of years of history, we are still upholding white supremacy by calling the mountain “Rainier.” Sadly, most people still know it by its colonized name. But one way I’m practicing resistance is by saying “Mount Tahoma is out,” gently correcting others who don’t, and teaching my 6-year-old to say “Tahoma,” not “Rainier.” Don’t applaud me for this I’m in the very early stages of a lifelong journey to understand the extent to which white settler colonization has brutally and systematically erased Native and Indigenous history and tradition in this region. One simple, yet significant, way we can keep the original history of this nation alive is by acknowledging the traditional occupants of the land. The closest I can come to empathizing with the “why” is reflecting on how the road I grew up on in Singapore–Mountbatten Road–was named after the English man who ripped my ancestors’ country in two–the Partition of India and Pakistan. It’s still called by his name. Names matter. History matters. Whose histories we remember by keeping their names alive matters. Sadly, what links so many people of color around the world is our shared history of being colonized, enslaved and the present experiences of being non-white in a global system of oppression. How do we even get to right hundreds of years of historical wrongs as leaders? By acknowledging that there was a story, a history and a culture that predates us. By learning. By paying rent to Native and Indigenous tribes. By continuing to learn from people who are Native and Indigenous to this land and boldly acknowledge what was stolen and lost by white settler colonization. A Land Acknowledgment To Remember In March, I attended an internal D&I Summit of over 2,000 attendees in Canada. The CEO of this large organization, a man of color who was once a refugee to the country he was now at the helm of one of the premier institutions of, sat in the front row. And the Summit kicked off with a detailed acknowledgment that the land we were on was not ours. The speaker who made this acknowledgment was a Native woman. She beautifully and humbly recognized that the land we were on that day traditionally belonged to many nations including the Mississaugas of the Credit, the Anishnabeg, the Chippewa, the Haudenosaunee and the Wendat peoples and is now home to many diverse First Nations, Inuit and Métis peoples. She also reminded us that we were guests on the land and our role was to protect and honor it. I had tears in my eyes, reflecting on how quickly thousands of years of history is routinely erased, the painful reminder of all that’s stolen in plain sight. The comprehensive land acknowledgment set a powerful stage for the rest of the Summit, humbling us with gratitude and setting us up to be intentional with the power that came with being up on stage. I’m learning that land acknowledgments are necessary and should be the norm, not the exception. If land acknowledgments are new to you––as they were for me––there may be a period of discomfort, shame, questioning and/or defensiveness. We must push past it and learn from those leading this work who are from Native and Indigenous communities. Here’s a fantastic primer I’ve learned from on how to make a meaningful land acknowledgment from, by Sicangu CDC. In my awareness-building and education on Native and Indigenous rights, I’ve come across some devastating facts on disparities in healthcare, economic security, children’s and women’s rights and safety and more faced by communities that were brutally oppressed by white colonization. The past traumas continue to inform the present realities of so many Native and Indigenous communities. We have so much work to do to even think of reaching a just and equitable reality. We should never forget all that was stolen and lost to get us to where we are today. Another way we can materially contribute is by donating to organizations dedicated to serving Native and Indigenous people. Two organizations that have long served Indigenous people is Chief Seattle Club and the Native American Rights Fund. I live in Seattle, land that has been stewarded by the Salish and Coastal Salish Peoples—the first peoples of what is now called Washington State. The land I live on is traditionally home to the Duwamish Tribe, the Muckleshoot Tribe, the Spokane Tribe, and the Yakama Nation. I try to remember this every day, especially when I see Mount Tahoma in the distance on a twinkling, sunny day. Devastatingly, Mount Tahoma has not been officially recognized by its original, non-colonial name, despite ongoing efforts from Puyallup and other tribes. We have a real opportunity to right a historical wrong and I will do everything I can on my part to advocate for it. If you have any leads on organizations working to restore our mountain’s original name, please let me know! In solidarity, Click here to subscribe to the Inclusion is Leadership letter.

This month, Inclusion on Purpose turned one! I had no way of knowing how it would be received or where it would go, and I was overwhelmed by the amount of comments, messages, and emails I received from readers around the country. One question I get asked often: How does it feel. It’s complicated—It’s heartbreaking to hear stories from so many women of color who face bias in the workplace, but it’s encouraging to know that Inclusion on Purpose has resonated with so many people who want to make changes. I also get asked a lot of questions on what this change should look like and what more we can do. So today’s newsletter is devoted to some of the questions that I’ve gotten most often from people who reached out after reading my book. And if, in reading these, you’re inspired to ask a question, please don’t hesitate to send me your own! I grew up in an environment that shared advice about working hard and making good grades being the only factors that count toward achieving your goals. How do you think that advice (which is a myth) needs to change? A: Advice about meritocracy and hard work alone being the indicator of progress and success is harmful to everyone. For people who grew up with privilege and access, they may wrongly believe that others with less privilege and access (typically people from historically underestimated backgrounds) aren’t able to progress due to a lack of their efforts, when in reality, some face systemic barriers while others benefit from privileges that help us progress. For people who are from historically underestimated identities, they may reach a ceiling no matter how hard they work or how much education and experience they amass, which can cause cognitive dissonance, mental health issues, questioning of self-worth, and other harmful consequences. That’s why my focus is on educating and building awareness of systemic barriers that can hamper growth. When people are armed with the reality of bias existing, they can navigate these issues by naming them, building coalitions and communities, and most of all, preserving their own sanity and sense of self. I never say “don’t work hard.” My focus is: “hard work alone won’t get you there. Understand how to navigate systemic barriers that are very much in existence today until we all own up to them to dismantle them.” In your book, you mention limiting your use of the term unconscious bias. Can you please talk about your point of view? A: Just because an action wasn’t intentional, it doesn’t mean there wasn’t an impact on the person harmed. “Unconscious bias” is too often used to justify repeated harmful behaviors or prejudices because they were (apparently) not perpetuated consciously. Consider this example: I once worked with a team that practiced what felt like an egalitarian decision-making process. We would meet, discuss challenges, and collectively come up with strategies to move forward. But over time, I noticed something odd: a few days after our team meetings, I would return to work to find the decisions that we made were moot, and the manager was moving in a different direction. At first, I had no idea what initiated these changes, but eventually, I solved the puzzle: Turns out, my male manager and certain members of our department were having additional, informal get-togethers after work at a local bar. There, they would talk shop and new decisions were made about who to hire, promote, and assign to important projects. Though I was never invited, I learned that it wasn’t gender-based. White women at all levels in our department were invited, but I never scored an invitation. Later, I figured it had something to do with being the only woman of color in my department. I don’t believe they excluded me because they disliked me, per se, but I do know it was because I was different from the “in-group.” While I don’t believe they were being discriminatory on purpose, I hesitate to put my missing invitations down to “unconscious bias.” When we chalk biased behavior and actions down to being “unconscious,” those in positions to change these behaviors often feel less responsible for identifying and correcting it. That’s why I now call these behaviors exclusionary or biased, rather than “unconscious.” How can we build cohesive teams while also eliminating affinity bias and cultural fit? A: I have a chapter in my book dedicated to inclusion and psychological safety, but essentially, we have to create teams where people have each other's backs, regardless of their position, status or identity. (Please see Dr. Amy Edmondson’s fantastic book The Fearless Organization for more on psychological safety.) I like to see leaders model vulnerability and honesty about barriers to inclusion and take personal responsibility for creating a more inclusive work environment. Better feedback mechanisms are also key to this (which I write about in my book!) as well as naming that you’re specifically hiring for culture add, not culture fit. Any more questions? Send them my way! These are just a few of the questions that I often get, and I love being in conversation with people who are just as excited as I am about cultivating inclusion on purpose. Click here to subscribe to the Inclusion is Leadership letter.

I was recently invited to be a guest at Big Think, where they featured Inclusion on Purpose as the January book club! (Check it out here.) Big Think is awe-inspiring; you can learn from authors and thinkers like Neil Degrasse Tyson and C. Nicole Mason, so I was honored to be asked. In this week’s Inclusion is Leadership, I wanted to share some key takeaways and highlights from my session with Hannah Beaver. The TL;DR is this: In a world full of leaders with great intentions, without being inclusive on purpose in practice, none can achieve the diversity, equity, and inclusion outcomes that we aspire to, in theory. And not only does inclusion need to happen on purpose, it’s an active process. It’s not just a one-and-done fix. I like to underscore the “on purpose” part of the title. Inclusion is about continuous, intentional, daily work. That’s why so many people struggle to achieve inclusion in the workplace. We’ve found time and time again that the impact of actions matter more than good intentions, especially when it comes to inclusion. I believe that most people have good intentions. I really, truly believe, the vast majority of us don’t want to be sexist, racist and/or hurt our peers, colleagues and loved ones by using biased language or demonstrating exclusionary behaviors. But just calling yourself “a good person” isn’t good enough, in fact that’s why bias is rampant today—we believe that if we don’t intend to be biased, we simply won’t be in practice. It’s rarely so simple. Good intentions don’t always lead to good outcomes and that’s why “good” people (including myself) need to back up our intentions with action and awareness that leads to inclusive outcomes for all. We can’t talk about inclusion without talking about privilege, and a lot of conversations around privilege today are founded on shame. Shaming and blaming people is not going to be the thing that changes minds (thank you, Brené Brown!) The more shame that people feel, the more they shut down, and then they won’t participate in actions to make their environment more inclusive. As such, I always return to the systemic factors that create exclusion and bias. I once tweeted this: “The problem isn’t men; the problem is patriarchy. The problem isn’t white people; it’s white supremacy. The problem isn’t straight people; it’s heteronormativity and homophobia. Recognize systems of oppression before letting individual defensiveness stop you from dismantling them.” And only by examining and understanding our privilege within these systems—especially if our identities allow us to benefit in these rigged systems—can we make change. I understand that examining your own privilege can be uncomfortable, bring up feelings of shame, and cause defensiveness. But the first step toward inclusion is acknowledging that all of us have inherent privileges. Then, you can understand that your privilege is not your fault, but it’s certainly your responsibility to become aware of it and use it for good. The goal is to dismantle systems to create a reality where everyone can belong. So how can you use your privilege for good? Give Credit Where Due The Washington Post reported that, in the Obama administration, some of the women on staff noticed that they were being spoken over and ignored, and that men on staff were taking credit for their ideas. These are issues that are unfortunately all too familiar for most women. So they banded together and used a strategy called amplification. They agreed that, when they noticed another woman being interrupted, they would support each other by amplifying one another’s ideas and giving credit to the women who made key points. Another one of my favorite examples of this is featured in my book. Yamiche Alcindor, the US White House correspondent for PBS News, was often at the receiving end of racism and sexism as a Black woman covering the last US presidential administration. On August 4, 2020, at the height of the coronavirus pandemic, White House press secretary Kayleigh McEnany refused to let Alcindor ask a question. Seeing this, a Boston Globe reporter, Jess Bidgood, raised her hand to ask a question, and when summoned, passed her turn over to Alcindor to let her ask the press secretary her question. Bidgood realized that her own privilege as a white woman would likely ensure that she was called upon by the white woman on stage, So she used her position to get the mic and then passed it on to a woman of color. If your voice carries farther because you are part of a dominant majority, you can use your privilege in a tangible, actionable way to amplify the voices of others. Rethink Culture Fit Hiring for culture fit is among the most widespread and exclusionary hiring practices today. The problem with a very loosely defined, subjective term like “culture fit” is that people still tend to favor other people who look like them, which, in many workplaces in the United States, is largely white and largely men. In Lauren A. Rivera’s book Pedigree: How Elite Students Get Elite Jobs, she interviewed 120 hiring decision makers, finding that 82% of managers said culture fit is one of the most important qualities that they look for, yet only half had a clear idea of what their culture was. Rather than focus on culture fit, organization leaders must concentrate on culture add to be inclusive. Data proves again and again that there are really good outcomes in investing in underrepresented pools of talents. Of course, business outcomes shouldn’t be the only focus when it comes to building a more inclusive workplace, but they’re certainly a benefit. According to a McKinsey study, companies in the top quartile for gender diversity on executive teams were 25 percent more likely to have above-average profitability than companies in the fourth quartile, and companies in the top quartile for ethnic diversity were 36% more likely to have above-average profitability than companies in the fourth quartile. The greater the representation, the higher the likelihood of outperformance. AND. The business case has been done. I’m done with the business case. As we’re going through this challenging time in history, leadership and representation from people from underestimated, underheard, and overlooked backgrounds is what will create change and drive us toward the innovation we need to navigate today and the future. Moreover, it’s the just, moral, right thing to do. End of story. Click here to subscribe to the Inclusion is Leadership letter.

This time last year, I had huge butterflies in my stomach and probably hadn’t slept well in a few weeks. My book, Inclusion on Purpose, launched on March 1, 2022 and I was navigating the reality of how an idea that I had spent developing over two years mostly alone–in the depths of a pandemic––was now out in the world. For public consumption and for public review. Would people hate it? Would it resonate? Would I get angry reviews? Would it be helpful? Most of all, would it add to the changes we were so desperately waiting to see around creating more inclusive workplaces and societies…or further harm the cause? I spent the week before launch doing what most authors don’t do. I took a vacation and spent very little time asking people to pre-order the book. Pre-orders matter immensely to a book’s success, and I was surprised to return to my office on this day last year, to learn that Inclusion on Purpose had the second highest pre-order numbers in the MIT Press’ history. Honestly, the “buy my book” narrative doesn’t work well for my personality, but what does is telling myself I need to market my work because my goal is to be helpful, educational and authentic. I, like many women, have a complicated history with being socialized not to speak up but later, in workplaces being told I would be more successful if I was more confident. Eek. When I reflect back on this period last year, I’m glad for my mental health that I chose offline time and vacation over heavy book promotions. Being away from it all for a bit gave me the fortitude to be in full book promotion mode when it launched…and that meant a total of podcasts and media interviews in the hundreds and addressing thousands of people in person and virtually through presentations and book talks, as the year went on. Did my book become a New York Times bestseller? It did not. That was on my vision board for 2022 and it did not happen. What did, which wasn’t anywhere on my vision board, were the thousands of comments, direct messages and emails, organic posts from strangers sharing the book, book clubs being formed all over the country and an overwhelming outpouring of support and love for Inclusion on Purpose. What I learnt quickly is that the metrics of success we assign to ourselves because we believe the world tells us it's the most important measure of success, isn’t quite what you can feel in your soul. (To be fair, I haven’t had the NYT bestseller accolade, so maybe I’m wrong.) But I can confirm that the individual notes I got still beat out the other press mentions and accolades that the book got. On a hard day, I’ll go back to my “Read to Smile” folder in my inbox, not visit the link to where my book was named a top leadership book or one to watch. Then, there were the personal victories. It was the moment when my (then) five-year-old told me he wanted to write a book when he grew up because “mum is a famous author and I want to make her proud.” It was the moment I saw a picture of my 85-year-old Nani’s (maternal grandmother’s) reading glasses on the cover of my book, after she had fallen asleep with it by her bedside. It was the moment I saw it in my mum’s hands and the pride in her voice of me being the first person in my entire lineage to be a traditionally-published author. It was in carving a path in my marriage where my husband stepped up to take care of my child and me, as I traveled multiple times last year to promote the book; something both of us growing up in Indian households had never seen modeled for us. It was in hearing from various friends and colleagues around the world that my voice mattered and that they were so proud of knowing me. And that many had felt inspired to take a leap in their own careers: leave jobs that didn’t serve them, support other women of color, write a book proposal, make a speech. I learned that professional successes are meaningless without personal connections and victories. That could be the pride in a loved one’s face when you get your first job or promotion. The way a colleague turns to you and says you inspire them. The way a child in your life says they want to be just like you when they grow up. I believe we can never fully enjoy professional victories without the personal context. And so, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for making 2022 a transformative year! Despite a very painful year from a macro-perspective, my little world was transformed forever. In solidarity, Click here to subscribe to the Inclusion is Leadership letter.

Happy Love Day! If I don’t say it enough, thank you for showing up for me with compassion, curiosity and love. I hope you feel the same from me. In the past decade, I’ve been working on creating inclusive, equitable workplaces, there are few words that make me more angry or exhausted than: “I’m just playing devil’s advocate.” Sadly, I hear it often enough that I'm writing this piece on it. Look, I’ve been called some really mean things (as many women of color are on the internet), but when someone tries to make a “logical” argument for why racism isn’t real or doubles down on trying to disprove peer-reviewed data around the existence of bias in the workplace, I find it more harm-causing to advancing equitable places than when someone calls me a "woke idiot." Hearing or reading the “devil’s advocate” phrasing fills me with dread. Here we go again. By definition, the devil’s advocate is someone who, regardless of their own beliefs, is going to counter anything you say for the purpose of… Well, what is the purpose? In my experience with devil’s advocates, they often demand proof that bias is real. And often, when offered proof, they double down on trying to disprove the proof. See the problem? Add to that, asking for facts, data, and hard numbers that support my argument disregards a few things: I am an expert in my field with years of experience and a best-selling book on inclusion, replete with data and anecdotal evidence. The facts, data, and numbers that I provide are almost always dismissed by these "other siders." When we’re talking about bias, it isn’t necessarily quantifiable or even provable, especially when our systems of measuring and understanding harm were not built with historically underestimated communities in mind. In 2017, The New York Times rightly got criticized for hiring Bret Stephens, a conservative columnist. Reading his work (I forced myself for research purposes) is a glimpse into the devil’s advocate’s brain that I never asked for, but for me, it highlights the dichotomy between perpetuating harm and dissent or disagreement. In much of his work, Stephens ties himself to the strongest pillar of the devil’s advocate: the right to free speech. He criticizes colleges and universities that cancel events with speakers who are known white supremacists and calls protesting “bullying.” Free speech is a great principle in theory, but it must be practiced with caution and an equity-informed, anti-racist lens. Calling me a "woke idiot" is rude, but I'll concede your right to free speech (and your wrongful opinion). Calling me a racial slur that has a long history of harming communities and inciting racial violence....? Hate speech that has a huge cost to people who have already been traumatized over generations. Ergo: not free. And not all words (and their contexts) are equal–no one knows this more than people who argue about their right to free speech precisely so they can use hateful words. When I talk to people I love from marginalized communities, the fear is real when public speakers with white supremacist, anti-Semitic, anti-immigrant, anti-Black, anti-LGBTQ ideologies make their thoughts public. Free speech isn’t free if it harms large swaths of the population. Identity Politics and "Both Sides" It doesn’t take Stephens long to cite “identity politics” as a problem, arguing that issues like same-sex marriage wouldn’t be so polarizing if the two sides could have a reasonable conversation. This is another tool of the devil’s advocate. He’s dismissing that there is one side, a historically underestimated community whose safety is being jeopardized, and another side who has historically violently attacked and dehumanized the LGBTQ+ community. To suggest that reasoning with people who deny your humanity is even a possibility is yet another way the devil’s advocate perpetuates harm, and it’s no surprise that these arguments often come from people who have not had their humanity brought into question. Maya Rupert wrote a great response to one of Stephens’ lectures here: “As a concept, the devil’s advocate is incoherent. If a position is really as unpopular as the name indicates, there is no need to argue for it...In order for it to be effective…It’s the other person who must be willing to treat the discussion seriously on the promise that the person arguing with them will not.” I have another word for the act of playing devil’s advocate: gaslighting, or a form of psychological manipulation that hinges on creating self-doubt. The objective here isn’t to have an informed discussion or to help the target of the devil’s advocate. It’s for the devil’s advocate to plant self-doubt, invalidate, and ultimately manipulate the other person to acquiescence. Because I do have the expertise and data on hand, sometimes I drop a quick note to the trolls. But this isn’t always what’s best for me, as the devil’s advocate will almost always insist that the harm that I know is present isn’t there, an issue women of color often face in the workplace and the world, and repeatedly explaining why others have caused harm can be retraumatizing, especially when the person you’re speaking to refuses to see this. Plus, people are prone to confirmation bias, which is why one set of data may mean very different things to different people. Devil’s advocates seem to see themselves as soldiers, always ready to defend what’s right, when their “advocating” so often aligns with the oppressive messaging of white supremacy, patriarchy, and capitalism. Maybe they are trying to help, as they so often insist. But in the words of Lilla Watson… “If you have come here to help me you are wasting your time, but if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together.” Gratitude to Shahzia Noorally for reminding me of this quote and sharing some highlights from our conversation on The Power in the Collective - Standing in Solidarity as Black, Indigenous, and Women of Colour. She writes: “There is liberation in working together and moving away from a divide and conquer mentality that upholds racist systems that keep all of us back. Standing in solidarity allows us to overcome hurdles, shatter barriers and unveil opportunities as women.” By the way: I don’t use “divide and conquer” in any other context: it was a colonial strategy used by the British to brutally pit communities against each other to weaken them and build the British empire on their backs. Everyone knows that our power multiplies when we are together, in solidarity. Most of all, those who try to disrupt it by playing devil’s advocate to divide us. Click here to subscribe to the Inclusion is Leadership letter.

It’s hard for me to believe we’re close to the two-year anniversary of the publication of my Harvard Business Review article co-authored with Jodi-Ann Burey, Stop Telling Women They Have Imposter Syndrome (among HBR’s top 20 most popular and impactful articles in history!) As one often does on anniversaries, I’m reflecting on its impact. While I’m thrilled that the sentiments of “fix workplaces, not women’s imposter syndrome” have resonated with so many, it’s continued to remind me how difficult it is to navigate workplace cultures as women and people from other marginalized communities. Women are told over and over again that it is their responsibility to combat imposter syndrome, build confidence, and signal that they are capable leaders. But as we write in our article, “what’s less explored is why imposter syndrome exists in the first place and what role workplace systems play in fostering and exacerbating it in women.” Women of color particularly, are expected to constantly reestablish their presence and authority at work. This is known as “prove-it-again bias,” termed by the brilliant Joan C. Williams. As Williams writes, basically, women are expected to, “exhibit a specific blend of masculine and feminine behaviors, support her female colleagues and somehow avoid letting motherhood affect her working life at all.” Ooof. It’s a lot to balance, especially when women can feel forced onto a narrow tightrope between being viewed as competent or likable. Confidence and Women One study found that the majority of women senior leaders said confidence (or lack thereof) was central to lack of progress in theirs and other women’s careers. For men? Confidence only mattered in the case of women’s career progress. Urgh! Here’s something even cringier: One of the male leaders criticized women in his workplace for lacking self-confidence, then called them aggressive and suggested they were “overcompensating for something” when they did exhibit confidence! Another criticized a woman for trying to act like an “alpha male.” He said, “She was extremely capable and if she had the confidence to match, she would have been more successful.” Can you see the double standard? Jumping through these hoops while feeling pressure to prove ourselves over and over again is exhausting, fuels overwhelm, and leads to fewer women in the workplace. Then, we too easily diagnose women with imposter syndrome or confidence issues so that we don’t have to question workplace norms and biases. Eliminating imposter syndrome should be a key inclusive leadership priority. If you’re interested, Jodi-Ann Burey and I wrote a followup article on the how: End Imposter Syndrome in Your Workplace. The last few years have seen many organizations racing to take the first steps to understanding DEIB, which is somewhat of a success. But inclusion is not a one-and-done fix. (If only it were that simple!) It requires intentional and sustained work to address and reduce bias, especially with regards to women’s leadership. The recent Jacinda Ardern controversy was a case in point. But while silly (sexist) headlines saw the former New Zealand Prime Minister’s resignation as an opportunity to revive tired “can women have it all” and “can women lead” tropes, I saw it as a masterclass in leadership: I’ll step back when I know I need a break, because I’ve led like a boss through a global pandemic. I don’t see any confidence issues at all – just pure, sheer, competence and leadership. Click here to subscribe to the Inclusion is Leadership letter.

I hope your 2023 is off to a great start! The last time you heard from me, I shared reflections on why 2022 was a magical year for me, while making as my commitments for the coming year (this one!): I’m committing to doing less. I’m committed to spending more time with my family, particularly my family in Singapore. And I’m committing to making rest a priority. (My inspiration is Rest is Resistance by Tricia Hersey, which I highly recommend and will get to later down this letter!) I’ve carried these practices through the last few weeks––starting with three weeks offline from mid-December until early January. It was hard. When we’re constantly receiving messages about how we “should” be doing more, producing more, working more, you feel like an outlier for wanting to prioritize time for rest. What’s important to remember is that there is no “new year, new you” in nature. Everything in nature continues to point to rest all winter. Animals, plants, and trees are all still using these colder months to conserve their energy. Why do we so often choose a season when our bodies are telling us to rest as the time to leap into action? You’ve seen those “new year, new you” messages abound, right? And how has not being able to keep up your commitments to some of them made you feel? Instead, what if we prioritized what we needed to keep on going? “The key to success at work and in life isn’t really starting strong, it’s staying strong,” is an amazing reminder I’m turning to from Elizabeth Grace Saunders. And in order to stay strong, we need times of rest. I only know this too well. Despite this knowledge, it’s so easy to set New Year's resolutions that are too ambitious for where we are. As you may recall, much of my decision to prioritize rest was inspired by the life-changing few days when I first read Rest Is Resistance by Tricia Hersey (read it!) Her book is based on four tenets: Rest is a form of resistance because it pushes back and disrupts white supremacy and capitalism. Our bodies are a site of liberation. And that brings into the somatics the idea that wherever our bodies are, we can find rest. Naps provide a portal to imagine, invent and heal. Our dream space has been stolen, and we want it back. We will reclaim it via rest. Coupled with some lessons I observed while I was in Spain and Portugal over the winter break––the importance of community over the individual, treating children like human beings rather than inconveniences (I nearly spat out my coffee reading a New York Times Opinion piece on whether babies should be allowed in first class), taking time to enjoy experiences, choosing to surround yourself with things that are beautiful and please your eye, eating and living well, resting in the afternoon––I’ve been thinking about how to commit to ways of being rather than doing in 2023. How about you? I hope more of you join me in my goal to prioritize more rest in 2023. Please let me know what you learn. I love hearing from you! Click here to subscribe to the Inclusion is Leadership letter.

A single year is a short and long period of time. In the grand scheme of things, it’s “just” one year. On the other hand, it’s 365 days full of joys, frustrations, decisions and competing demands. Especially as it was the first year for me since 2020 that felt a little more recognizable. I've been reflecting on “everything” that happened this year — and it’s a lot! The sheer quantity of events and achievements of 2022 boggles my mind when I tally them up. A few stand out quite clearly: My book Inclusion On Purpose released on March 1, 2022. It became a #1 Amazon bestseller and was backordered within a few months after it debuted (the demand for my book exceeded expectations — proving that there is a market for books on DEI written by women of color!) I joined Brené Brown’s podcast Dare to Lead for three episodes: once in April to talk about my book, and twice in October to reflect on inclusion and belonging with my dear friend, Aiko Bethea. Moving DEI from Intention to Impact, my first LinkedIn Learning course, came out in September. Less than three months later and it’s reached 100K learners! The countless heartfelt feedback from people all over the world, particularly women of color, who went out of their way to email, message and comment to me that my work has made them feel seen, understood, and valued. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. Your messages mean the world to me, and are the fuel that keeps me going when times are hard. The truth is that while the events of this year have exceeded my wildest dreams, there have been many bittersweet and even flat-out heartbreaking moments. This year felt like an endless run where I often couldn’t see a finish line, and it was exhausting! Sometimes I honestly wonder: does the positive impact I’m able to make — which I feel honored and grateful to do — justify the ways I haven’t always been able to show up for myself, my family, and my community? Here’s a case in point: right when my book launched, I got quite sick. The only remedy to this non-contagious illness was rest and being prescribed medication at a doctor’s clinic. But I did not rest and I delayed a doctor’s visit until I was dealing with a much more advanced version of a usually-easily-treated condition when caught early. As I hope you know from reading my work and being in my community, I never advocate that you work or “power through” a challenging time, mentally, physically or emotionally. And yet… that’s exactly what I did. I chose to “power through” my illness because I thought “that’s what authors do.” When Boundaries Feel Like Letting Down Your Community I believe that some (if not most) of my “power through” urge comes from being a woman of color. When your identities are underestimated and you have the opportunity to make an impact for your community on big stages, there’s an enormous sense of responsibility not to let your community down or to “waste” your chance. You have to work so hard to get those opportunities in the first place. And when you do, it’s exciting and you’re grateful and humbled, and… you’re likely to be worn out and burned out, too. In fact, one of the toughest parts of this year has been saying no to women of color. I always want to live and lead by offering mentorship and advice to women of color, but this year I had to say no to many requests for support. That was hard for me — and it speaks to the lack of support structures for women of color, which I hope my work can help to change in the coming years. With that in mind, I’m so grateful for everyone who showed up for me this year — it is no small thing to give support! My Hope for 2023: Radical Rest As I consider the lessons from this year that I want to take into 2023: I’m committing to doing less. I’m committed to spending more time with my family, particularly my family in Singapore. And I’m committing to making rest a priority. (My inspiration is Rest is Resistance by Tricia Hersey, which I highly recommend.) To answer the question I posed earlier — is the positive impact I’m able to make “worth it”? — the answer is both/and. I’m both humbled and amazed by the impact I can have, and I believe I can make that impact while doing less and resting more. Now, it’s your turn: what lessons from 2022 are you taking into the New Year? Is less or rest a priority? I wish you and yours a wonderful holiday season and a Happy New Year. Click here to subscribe to the weekly Inclusion is Leadership letter.

I have exciting news to share! LinkedIn has selected yours truly to offer my predictions for their #BigIdeas2023 highlight. Over on LinkedIn, I and my colleagues share how we predict the professional landscape will evolve within our industry next year. Curating these predictions will help leaders make strategic plans on what to focus on in the coming year. It’s an honor to be selected to share my predictions on diversity, equity and inclusion in the workplace! Below are the Big Ideas I believe will shape 2023 in the DEI space. I encourage you to check out LinkedIn’s full list to learn from my colleagues too. Diversity, Equity and Inclusion Predictions for 2023: 1. The rise of female entrepreneurship and entrepreneurs of color will continue as the Great Resignation/Reimagination continues. Corporations will struggle to retain employees from underestimated backgrounds as more leave to set up work norms outside of corporate structures. More women of color and other people who have felt left out or undervalued in the corporate workplace are leaving to become entrepreneurs, where they get to set their own culture and norms and find respite from microaggressions (or what I call, exclusionary behaviors.) These small enterprises will set the tone for new cultures of belonging and I can imagine that many larger companies will want to learn from them! 2. More investments in technology and especially the metaverse to create diversity and inclusion (like hiring inclusively in the metaverse) will be made. I'm hearing of companies investing in technology (like augmented and virtual reality) to drive greater DEI outcomes, particularly in the metaverse. We'll see "big problems" around DEI — such as inclusive hiring and empathy-building — attempt to be solved by using new technologies, including by experimenting with shifting into the metaverse. But we will need to be cautious: without intentionality, these technologies could replicate or even accelerate existing issues, making them more severe. We will need a diverse set of creators and leaders to ensure progress and success! 3. DEI will move out of the “DEI silo” and into core leadership skills for all (finally!). I continue to see innovative leaders shifting out of the "DEI is an HR issue" mindset to "it's a core leadership skill that I need to cultivate." I predict we'll see more leaders be held accountable to DEI outcomes, through bonuses and advancement opportunities. And new hires will continue to discern work opportunities based on whether a company culture is inclusive or not. 4. The will be a rise in mental health focus at work. I see more innovative organizations and leaders prioritizing mental health benefits, discussions around mental health *and* offering mental health days that are company-wide and taken by all. With the number of people experiencing burnout, we need to prioritize this without question. Click here to subscribe to the weekly Inclusion is Leadership letter.

The world can feel challenging and painful. There are many worthy causes that those of us with (some) financial privilege can impact by making donations. And. One way we can make a difference and practice inclusion is by ensuring that as we support causes, we look into who is running those organizations. There’s much more on this topic by people more involved and smarter than I am, on how white-led nonprofits can cause more harm than good in trying to solve challenges faced by people of color. So, my humble request is that as we feel moved to support (financially or otherwise) causes that mean a lot to us, let’s also commit to taking a deeper dive into who is running those organizations. Simply put: does their leadership reflect in any way, the communities they’re supposed to be serving? Today is Giving Tuesday in the U.S., a day when many people and organizations are moved to make donations to causes they cherish and support. I want to use my small platform here (thank you, thank you for being a reader and subscriber!) to raise awareness about some remarkable organizations that have womxn of color in leadership, and that focus on providing access, services, education, and advocacy for reproductive justice in the U.S. Like many, I was shaken and devastated by the June 2022 Dobbs vs. Jackson Supreme Court decision, as I know many were. After it happened, I made a commitment to donate $10,000 in total, by donating $1,000 to ten organizations led by womxn of color providing reproductive health services and access. The organizations I chose center voices at the intersection of those who are most marginalized and most affected by the Dobbs decision (it’s not surprising, given how intersectionality works that abortion bans are far more dangerous for womxn of color). Photo by Gayatri Malhotra These contributions are my way of making sure that rather than turning away from crisis, I can turn toward it and make an impact as we collectively, in solidarity, work towards creating health care rights for everyone. I realize that it’s a privilege for me to be able to make ten $1000 donations. But truly, I think the amount is besides the point. This is about ensuring that we intentionally and thoughtfully support organizations run by underestimated people, *especially* womxn of color. We can do this through donating time, donating money, using our platform to raise awareness, or a combination of all three. So, I’m focusing this #GivingTuesday on people who benefit the most from being centered. For those of you who are looking for abortion access services to donate to, here’s my list of 10: The Yellowhammer Fund Yellowhammer Fund provides practical, financial, and logistical support for those who need to access reproductive healthcare services in Alabama or Alabamians needing care in other states. They also have women of color in leadership. Indigenous Women Rising Indigenous Women Rising is committed to honoring Native & Indigenous People’s inherent right to equitable and culturally safe health options through accessible health education, resources, and advocacy. This abortion fund is open to all Indigenous and undocumented people in the U.S. and Canada who have the capacity to become pregnant and are seeking an abortion in the United States. National Network of Abortion Funds The National Network of Abortion Funds builds power with members to remove financial and logistical barriers to abortion access by centering people who have abortions and organizing at the intersections of racial, economic, and reproductive justice. SisterSong SisterSong is the largest national multi-ethnic Reproductive Justice collective. Their membership includes and represents Indigenous, African American, Arab and Middle Eastern, Asian and Pacific Islander, Latina women, and LGBTQ people. Membership also includes allies who support women’s human right to lead fully self-determined lives. The Afiya Center The Afiya Center is transforming the lives, health, and overall well-being of Black womxn and girls by providing refuge, education, and resources; they act to ignite the communal voices of Black womxn resulting in their full achievement of reproductive freedom. TAC is unique in that it is the only Reproductive Justice (RJ) organization in North Texas founded and directed by Black womxn. New Voices for Reproductive Justice New Voices for Reproductive Justice is dedicated to transforming society for the holistic health and well-being of Black women, girls, and gender-expansive people, nationally and in Pennsylvania and Ohio. They help dismantle patriarchal anti-Blackness using the tools community organizing, leadership development, and voter engagement. Surge Reproductive Justice Surge Reproductive Justice mobilizes communities to build a world where all people can make powerful, self-determined choices for their bodies and the future of their families and communities. Their work centers Black women, women of color, and queer and trans people of color for a movement that rises from the bottom up. The Brigid Alliance The Brigid Alliance gets people to abortion care, whatever it takes. For many Americans, the costs and logistical challenges of getting to an abortion provider are primary barriers to access, and it’s only getting harder. Wherever someone needs to get to abortion care in the U.S., they find a way to get them there – through direct support and in collaboration with their network of partners. Holler Health Justice Organizing at the intersections of racial, economic, and reproductive justice, Holler Health Justice builds power with Appalachian communities and individuals most disproportionately affected by health inequities, including Black, Indigenous, and people of color, those in rural areas, those with low-income, and LGBTQIA+ folk. Chicago Abortion Fund The mission of the Chicago Abortion Fund is to advance reproductive autonomy and justice for everyone by providing financial, logistical, and emotional support to people seeking abortion services and by building collective power and fostering partnerships for political and cultural change. You can view this list, and the dates when I donated to each organization, on my website. I’d love to hear from you, too! What causes or organizations are you supporting today, or otherwise? Have you looked into their leadership? I’d love to connect with more organizations and causes that center underestimated communities, both, in leadership and service. Click here to subscribe to the weekly Inclusion is Leadership letter.

Thursday is Thanksgiving Day here in the United States, which is a complicated holiday. Its origins and mythology are deeply problematic in their treatment of Indigenous and Native communities. And, the sentiment to feel grateful for all we have and count our blessings is a beautiful one––so, please know I’m grateful for you! If you’re celebrating, I hope you’ll consider decolonizing the holiday and honoring Native people every day, but especially this week. When I read that Oprah wrote a daily gratitude journal for decades and saw an immense change for the better in her life, I told myself I would start too. But it’s ironic––despite being a writer––I really can’t seem to build a journaling practice. I bought all the daily gratitude journals and they kept piling up on my nightstand, taunting me, unwritten. I know gratitude is SO important. The research on its positive impact itself is undeniable, but even more, how I FEEL when I’m in a state of gratitude is something special. So..I guess writing (in a journal) isn’t my thing. Instead, every morning after I wake up, I look at the sun rising over the Olympic mountains in the distance from my window (or, on many days, just grey because…Seattle), warm lemon water in hand and reflect on three things that feel worthy of gratitude in that moment. As a working caregiver, that’s all I can manage and that’s ok. (Side note: if you’re seeking unused gratitude journals, holler at me.) I’ve been thinking a lot about how to cultivate gratitude in my six-year-old kid. It’s a practice, not an inborn trait. Like inclusion, but that’s a story for another day. During the pandemic, I lost a lot of perspective on what to be grateful for, and how. We were in collective, worldwide grief. Even so, our family has a lot. But the world is a scary place. It feels much more so thinking about what things will look like in 20 years from now, when my child is an adult. We have a lot, but there’s a lot of uncertainty and unknown. How can we find gratitude for the haves while working towards the have nots (equity, safety, a world without hunger, especially as we pass a food bank near our house every day, where the lines seem to be getting longer while the temperatures drop?) One morning, we grabbed coffee and hot chocolate from a neighborhood café and walked outside my favorite Buddhist temple. I told my son to stop and think about what he was thankful for. We then said thanks out loud to Buddhaji for blessing us with abundance, kindness, love and warmth on these freezing days (I'm glad my son doesn't mind he has to convert the Fahrenheit to Celsius for mama). I also said thanks for the fortitude so many of us have had to develop to keep on in inclusion, equity and belonging work. We now each say out loud, three things we’re thankful for at the dinner table, every evening. There’s good research around the importance of teaching kids how to practice gratitude. I’ve recently learned about a research project called Raising Grateful Children at the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill. They think of gratitude as having four parts: What we NOTICE in our lives for which we can be grateful, How we THINK about why we have been given those things, How we FEEL about the things we have been given, What we DO to express appreciation in turn. With my son, I’m hoping the weekend walks to the temple and daily dinner gratitude conversation fulfills the “NOTICE, THINK and FEEL,” while talking about how important it is to express it (DO) when we notice, think and feel gratitude. This absolutely applies to adults too. In trying to “teach” my son about gratitude, I realize that the person who benefits most from our gratitude conversations is me. It puts my life in perspective when his responses range from sweet (my friend sat next to me at lunch) to small (I got my favorite snack) to profound (you and daddy love me so much and not all kids I know get so much love.) Whew! Ok! Off to gear up for some family time this week, which I’m also excited about. With gratitude for you, today and always, Click here to subscribe to the weekly Inclusion is Leadership letter.

I recently opened up about a time in my career when I was the only woman of color at a previous job. The endless racial gaslighting and exclusionary behaviors that I endured took a serious toll on my mental health, which ultimately led to me to quit that job (and I’m grateful I had the privilege to do so). I go into detail in my last issue of Inclusion is Leadership, Recovering From Being the Only Woman of Color at Work. So many of you responded to it on LinkedIn, and it’s been encouraging and heartbreaking to read your stories. What’s hardest about my experience was that at first, I actually blamed myself for what was happening. I found out later that this is all-too-common. In fact, let me put it plainly: women of color blaming ourselves for systemic bias is a workplace crisis. Photo by Keagan Henman Danielle Jenkins Henry, a licensed marriage family therapist associate (LMFTA), relates to my experience. The mental health challenges she faced after dealing with discrimination and bullying at a toxic workplace led to her become a licensed therapist and set up her own psychotherapy practice. She wanted to ensure that Black women could get the mental health support they need. She quit a lucrative tech job and set up her practice so other Black women would not have to go through the same isolation and lack of support that she did. Jenkins Henry also shared four strategies for women of color to preserve their own mental well-being until they can safely remove themselves from toxic situations rife with systemic bias: Know you can leave. Some women of color feel they need to stay and fight for their “place at the table,” but it’s simply not worth sacrificing your mental health. “There are parts of our spirits that are being damaged, and that is what needs protecting when we experience discrimination in the workplace,” says Jenkins Henry. Even if leaving isn’t a practical option for you or your family right now, you don’t owe a toxic job your loyalty. Find adaptive coping strategies. There are many reasons that can make it difficult to leave a toxic work environment. In those cases, it's imperative to find adaptive coping strategies. Jenkins Henry suggests meditation, exercise, healthy eating, and adequate rest as a way of building internal reserves. Find a support network. Reflect on who your support network is. Once you’ve identified who can support you, tell them about what you’re facing at work so you don’t feel so isolated. Examples of potential support groups are religious organizations, a sorority or fraternity, or employee resource groups. I needed this advice so badly; I remember isolating myself when I was facing bias at a previous job, because I was so ashamed for not being “tough enough” to cope. Plan your exit strategy. Leaving a toxic workplace immediately isn’t always possible, but you can start planning. Looking for job opportunities within and outside the company is great, but if you feel that you can no longer take it, Jenkins Henry advises seeking a clinical diagnosis and filing for medical leave. Even taking a sabbatical can do some good for your well-being. Photo by Jenna Walker Jenkins Henry’s goal with these four strategies is to prevent women from experiencing what she (and I) did: reaching crisis levels of burnout from toxic, biased workplaces. The mental health toll incurred by women of color who deal with constant racist, discriminatory and exclusionary behaviors in the workplace is only starting to be understood. As always, we must look out for ourselves and each other by prioritizing our own mental health. So yes, shore up coping strategies, find support and plan your exit. But most importantly, know that you are never to blame for systemic bias at work. And please share: Have you ever used any of Jenkins Henry’s coping strategies? Have you developed your own that you’re comfortable sharing? Let me know! I love to hear from you. Click here to subscribe to the weekly Inclusion is Leadership letter.