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Tell me if this sounds familiar: “I’m so supportive of what you’re doing. I’d love to have you join a training program we recently launched for [insert women, people of color, women of color]. It meets for six hours a week over Zoom and teaches you [insert some aspect of business].” That familiar statement comes from my colleague (and shero!) S. Mitra Kalita in her TIME column, The Problem with Training Programs Targeting People of Color. She shares her observation that DEI efforts are increasingly targeting people of color, rather than the privileged individuals and power systems that led to being historically underestimated. I’ve noticed this troubling trend, too. And as I shared with her for the article, it stems from the mentality that underestimated individuals “need a handout.” PSA: We don’t. One more time for the people in the back: We don’t need handouts. What we need is for our talents and accomplishments to be fully recognized for what they are. The problem with efforts that focus on “up-leveling” women of color, people of color, or other groups is THIS underlying message: you’re the problem. You need to change to fit into the dominant culture/power structure/expectations that exist and were created by and for white men. No, no, one million times no! The problem is not underestimated people. The problem is the systematic inequalities that leave us out of leadership and opportunities. People of color don’t need to be saved by initiatives, programming, or training workshops. There are better ways to show support for us: Money. Access to networks. Introductions. Transparency, for example, “here’s how this person operates, and here’s how to land this deal.” Opportunities. Money. Did I mention money? There’s a word that describes how to support us, one I’m happy to see more and more often: sponsorship. We need more sponsorship of people of color — particularly by white men. Because the reality is that three-quarters of senior leaders pick protégés who look like them. And since the majority of corporate leaders are white men, well… you do the math. The result? Many women of color don’t get sponsored for career-making opportunities, leading to hostile work environments and cultures and attrition. It’s not a situation that training programs for women of color will solve. As I wrote in Inclusion on Purpose, “Women of color do not need special accommodations to excel (not even close); what we need is the unwavering belief in our potential to succeed and being offered opportunities to prove our capabilities, like our white counterparts.” Now, I want to hear from you: can you relate!? Have you noticed an increase in programming for “improving” people of color? What’s your view of it? Have you been on the receiving end of S. Mitra’s story at the top? Have you been sponsored by someone, or sponsored someone, who looks different from you? If so, what did you learn? Click here to subscribe to the weekly Inclusion is Leadership letter.

I––like so many of you––was overcome with emotion when I heard that Ketanji Brown Jackson’s appointment to the Supreme Court of the United States was confirmed. What an exciting, history-making moment! And at the same time, what a painful process to watch. While there’s nothing new about a woman of color having to reestablish her authority again and again and AGAIN, it didn’t make it any less hard to watch. And while it was beautiful and gratifying to see Justice Jackson triumph, it was also a (re)traumatizing experience for many women of color. The process reaffirmed two big learning opportunities for me: one good and the other….not so much. A model for business leaders: Name who is missing I had the honor of speaking about Justice Jackson’s nomination with reporter Ephrat Livni for the New York Times’ DealBook. What stood out to me is the intentionality President Biden has shown in naming who is missing. He’s been clear since his run for president that he would intentionally nominate a Black woman to the Supreme Court. Organizations and their leaders can learn from that: name who’s not represented. When we aren’t intentional and explicit about increasing representation, we default to our biases. The result? A pledge to “hire for more diversity” becomes hiring a few more white women, and little changes. I appreciate that President Biden didn’t shy away from naming the need for Black women to be represented in the Supreme Court. I urge leaders in other sectors to follow his lead. The “Pet to Threat” Phenomenon But, once you name who is missing and commit to having them represented, you really, really have to show you have their back. I really am excited about Justice Jackson’s confirmation. I and many others hope this will lead to our Supreme Court’s decisions reflecting the true diversity of this country. But amid the celebrations, we can’t forget the way she was treated (particularly when you compare the confirmation hearings of Justice Brett Kavanaugh). Dr. Kecia M. Thomas’ groundbreaking work on the “Pet to Threat” phenomenon comes to mind. As Erika Stallings quotes Dr. Thomas: “I think in every career trajectory there comes an opportunity for a promotion or leadership, where the individual has a level of influence or power to make significant changes and to rethink how business is done. That’s when women are probably most vulnerable to getting recast as threatening, because their colleagues are pushing back on the person legitimately exerting their influence in the workplace” (my emphasis). An overqualified woman of color getting unanimous support for a District Court nomination but becoming a “threat” when she’s an exemplary Supreme Court nominee is a prime example. If you are appalled by the way the confirmation hearings progressed, please do the urgent work of looking around you and reflecting on how often this happens in your workplaces all day, every day, and your role in being a vocal champion and the person who shuts down bias. Now, I want to hear from you! Have you witnessed the “pet to threat” phenomenon unfold in your own career or a colleagues’? Or, have you seen someone intentionally and explicitly identify who’s representation is missing at work or in leadership? Please share your stories! Click here to subscribe to the weekly Inclusion is Leadership letter.

I received some disappointing feedback recently. After a presentation I was excited about, I learned that one of my favorite cartoons was alienating to an ally who cared about inclusion. Their anonymous feedback after the event was to do away with the cartoon if I wanted to make the change I was hoping to. The cartoon in question is by Will McPhail, and features a woman of color sitting across the desk from a large group of white men, being asked to “describe what she brings to the company.” It’s just perfect: I love this cartoon because it beautifully illustrates what many women of color (including myself) face, not only in the hiring process but throughout our careers. We’re constantly asked to reestablish our authority, to defend what we bring to the table, and justify how our diversity and differences contribute to the company – in meetings, in pitches and proposals, whether we work for a small organization, a large corporation or even, ourselves. Let me reiterate: this was my REAL experience in a number of interviews in corporations. Many, many women of color face this all the time. I recorded a short video to share what this feedback brings up for me, and I’ve written my thoughts below: Ally is a Verb, not a Noun We need to move away from the idea that an ally is something you “are,” an identity you can put on as easily as a pair of shoes. No. Ally is not an identity, it’s what you do. Acting as an ally means practicing advocacy, co-conspiracy, allyship, or being a “success partner” (as my friend Minda Harts calls it). It goes by many terms, but always it’s focused on action. To practice allyship means asking: How and how often do you amplify women of color? How do you ensure women of color are paid appropriately (which always means equally)? How do you ensure that our thought leadership and expertise get full credit? How do you intervene when someone asks a woman of color to reestablish her authority or defend what she brings to the table? Ally is not someone you are, it's what you do. Defensiveness and Discomfort Look, I get it. Talking about diversity, equity, inclusion, and bias in a meaningful way at work is uncomfortable. In fact, if you're doing it right, it's going to cause discomfort — guaranteed. When you are shown images or you hear stories about bias and discrimination and racism, it’s really important to lay down your defenses. When your friend or colleague tells you about a time that they experienced bias or racism or discrimination, it's really important to lay down your defenses. When you feel defensiveness come up, think deeply. Consider, why are you feeling uncomfortable? What is it telling you? Try viewing your discomfort as a green light, rather than the red light it might feel like at first. Discomfort is a positive sign of your openness to change and your willingness to grow. Even though discomfort is, by definition, uncomfortable, that doesn’t mean it’s bad! Make a commitment to believe what you see or hear about someone experiencing bias or discrimination, even if you don’t totally understand or can’t personally relate. And always, always call upon your empathy. The cartoon above truly is the experience of many women of color and people with other underestimated identities in the workplace. You must embrace that reality before you can effectively make change. If a cartoon makes you uncomfortable, could you perhaps empathize with the discomfort we feel walking into the room as the first or only, and being asked in subtle and overt ways: “describe what you bring to this company?” What do you think? So as you can surely guess, I’m not going to stop using this cartoon in my presentations. If this feedback is constructive for anyone, I believe it’s the person who gave it. Also, I want to say a huge thank you to Will McPhail! Your cartoon is truly one of the best illustrations of this reality. As far as I understand you present as a white man, so I really appreciate you picking up this nuance which is so much part of our lives as women of color in the workplace and in society. So thank you! Now I’d love to hear your thoughts, especially if you’ve worked in the DEI field and received this kind of pushback. Please comment and let me know what you think. What are the ways you’ve dealt with feedback like this? Click here to subscribe to the weekly Inclusion is Leadership letter.

I love hearing from you. I’ve said it before and I’ll keep saying it: getting responses and feedback from readers is more meaningful to me than I can say! It’s always enriching and humbling, and makes me feel deeply connected. As more readers finish Inclusion on Purpose, it’s been a joy hearing their takeaways and insights. I can’t believe it’s been a whole month since launch! And it’s made me reflect on: what are my top takeaways from my book, now that I’ve had space from it? Of course, there are the big ones: center women of color. Actively practice inclusion. Take responsibility for creating an environment where everyone can belong. But there are other, less-obvious ones, and today I wanted to share them with you: Focus on culture add “Culture fit” is exclusionary and biased. It makes sense: If your organization is made up of white men, then you’re consciously or unconsciously going to pattern match for a “culture fit.” Think back to the last time you talked about whether someone is a “culture fit”. What made them — or did not make them — a fit? The more trouble you have articulating this, the more likely your judgment is biased. Instead, seek to hire people you don’t already see represented, by race, gender, educational background, experience, country of origin, languages spoken, and other identities. Build empathy through reading fiction Stanford research shows there’s an inverse relationship between privilege and empathy. That means the more privilege you have, it’s generally harder to empathize with the experiences of others. So, leaders must develop empathy by constantly self-educating and building awareness of what different people are facing. The Greater Good Science Center at Berkeley published phenomenal research on cultivating empathy. One of their research-backed recommendations surprised me: read fiction. Stories change us, and powerful stories often stay in our minds longer than data. Seek out stories from different cultures–written by authors from those backgrounds. Recently, I’ve read three works of fiction that greatly influenced me: Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi, Convenience Store Woman by Sayaka Murata, and Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia. What are yours? Cultivate cultural humility Cultural competency is outdated. What we need is the cultivation of cultural humility. What’s the difference? Cultural competency means learning about other cultures while retaining the idea that your culture is dominant. Cultural humility means recognizing that you do not know everything about another’s culture, and that there may be a lot to learn from it. Cultural humility is particularly useful for leaders working with women of color. One small, but powerful, way to cultivate cultural humility is prioritizing the correct pronunciation of a colleague’s name. Cultural humility reminds us that all names are meaningful to their owner, so stumbling through an unfamiliar name for your own ease or comfort is unacceptable. Cultural competency is broad and fixed, while cultural humility allows for nuance and flexibility. It prompts us to observe visual cues, not just verbal ones. I share more detail about my top takeaways from Inclusion on Purpose here with the Next Big Idea Club if you’d like to read (and hear me read them) further. And now, of course I want to hear from you! If you’ve read Inclusion on Purpose (thank you!), what are your top takeaways? Or more broadly, what’s a favorite insight you’ve learned from a woman of color you admire and follow? Click here to subscribe to the weekly Inclusion is Leadership letter.

I think often about what’s considered “professional” or “authentic” in workplace culture. Certain hairstyles. Certain names. Certain clothes. A certain language, work ethic, body language, emotional expressions. The result? Workplaces that are unwelcoming, uncomfortable, and downright hostile to those who don’t fit. Coincidence? Not really. These markers are exclusionary by design — and if you’re reading this, I know you know who they were designed to alienate, and who they were designed to embrace. Professionalism and authenticity are long overdue for a rebrand. That rebrand must specifically center the experience of women of color to kickstart change that benefits ALL employees across the board. Below are some of my favorite, most impactful resources for understanding why these efforts are essential for the modern workplace: The Bias of ‘Professionalism’ Standards, by Aysa Gray When I read this article, the person in the next room probably thought I was losing my mind: I shouted ‘yes’ and ‘finally!’ pretty much throughout reading it. I still do when I re-read it for the billionth time. It puts into perspective the lesser spoken about (but most people of color know exactly what this refers to) pressures of ‘professionalism’—like perfectionism, punctuality, speech, accent, and dress—that all point to a coded bias towards whiteness and Western-ness. To create an inclusive environment (really), we must recognize and work against only having one acceptable way of doing things. The Myth of Bringing Your Full, Authentic Self to Work, by Jodi-Ann Burey [WATCH] Jodi-Ann Burey is an extraordinary leader and her TED talk so poignantly captures the experience so many people of color have at work. Too many workplaces say they want everyone to bring their authentic selves to the workplace, only to penalize employees from underestimated backgrounds for doing just that. This is a must watch! (P.S.) Jodi-Ann and I co-wrote the viral article Stop Telling Women They Have Imposter Syndrome, one of Harvard Business Review’s most popular articles of all time. What Is White Privilege? by John Amaechi [WATCH] Two minutes and thirty-one seconds that will change your life. Just watch it, seriously, and pass it on. I curated other resources you can read, watch and listen to around redefining professionalism and authenticity for Get Pocket. They’re all worth your time! And I go into much more detail about this in my new book, Inclusion on Purpose. Now, I want to hear from you in the comments. What makes YOU feel authentic and professional (no matter what your boss or workplace would say)? Let’s celebrate and elevate how YOU embody professionalism and authenticity. I’ve shared an example of my own below (and it relates to this picture!), and I’d love to hear yours. Click here to subscribe to the weekly Inclusion is Leadership letter.

The first time a coworker commented on my “unpronounceable” name, they insisted it was a compliment. But I didn’t feel complimented. I felt uncomfortable. This was before the term “microaggression” became widespread. When it did, I knew this term captured the essence of how I felt, describing the everyday putdowns, insults, or offensive “compliments” from well-meaning white peers. It’s powerful to have a commonly understood term to articulate these issues and address the way they impact underestimated people. But. These exclusionary, biased actions are anything but “micro.” The real issue is the cumulative effects of hearing something about your difference called out every day, in seemingly benign ways. That’s why we must stop using the term “microaggressions” to describe them. Why “Microaggressions” Doesn’t Work The term “microaggression” doesn’t truly capture the biased action’s emotional and material effects or how they impact women and people of color’s career progressions. It’s never about just one slight, just one “cut.” It’s death by a thousand cuts, in the form of slights you hear every day, multiple times a day. The use of “micro” in the term minimizes the actions’ harmful effects. It also prioritizes the comfort of those in the majority by centering their intentions instead of their impacts. Instead, I prefer the term “exclusionary or biased behaviors.” Be Curious but Thoughtful I’m not saying never ask questions about each other’s names or heritage or culture. But there’s a time and place for conversations about a person’s identity, especially in the workplace. Going up to someone on their first day of work to ask, “what are you?” is never the right approach. It’s a dehumanizing way to express curiosity about someone’s background. But even if you ask more tactfully, a conversation about identity and background in the middle of a meeting has a very different tenor than at a casual networking event or over a work lunch. The former relates, “I demand answers to my questions that don’t impact the work we’re going to do together.” The latter communicates, “I’m genuinely curious and interested in you and want to take some time to get to know you. I’m also inviting your questions about me.” Recognizing this difference requires cultivating empathy, especially if your experience in the majority wouldn’t make anyone question your background, ability, or competence. If someone tells you that something you said was biased or a microaggression, apologize sincerely, seek to understand why it may have been harmful (sometimes, they may tell you; other times, it’s up to you to do your own homework), and then refrain from doing it again. When we brush off “microaggressions,” we minimize the huge impact they have on underrepresented and marginalized employees. To make change, we must first be able to name, recognize, and acknowledge the harm exclusionary behaviors cause. What do you think of the term “microaggression”? What would be a more accurate alternative for you? Click here to subscribe to the weekly Inclusion is Leadership letter.

Sometime last week, in the midst of all the chaos around promoting Inclusion on Purpose, it dawned on me that I was making a big mistake. I felt like I was sharing so much about my new book online (#authorlife), I didn’t want to overwhelm you with content. So I took a hiatus from emailing you, believing that you would appreciate not being bothered by me. But last week I began to realize: I really miss hearing from you. I always look forward to hearing from you. What I love most about sending these emails that you can just hit reply, and I can hear directly from you. I always look forward to your stories. So, please excuse me for not connecting with you–directly and openly–which is precisely why I set up this newsletter last year in the first place. Thank you for being here with me on this journey. On to what’s on my mind. It’s Equal Pay Day. Sigh. You’re likely being bombarded today with hot takes on this earlier-than-usual date. Does it signify progress? Progress for whom? And when is “Equal Pay Day” for Black women? Indigenous women? Asian women who are not in high-earning jobs? Latinx women? (And even among those groups, how might colorism impact pay?) Whew! It’s a lot, I know. I encourage you to read the journalism and reporting (particularly by women of color) about this day and what it means for our world. As for me, I’ll offer two insights that I suspect may not be covered widely in the larger discussion about pay equity today: 1. Saying No to Unpaid Labor Recently, I received an invitation to speak for free at an event. I responded with these words: "Unfortunately, I'm unable to accommodate unpaid requests as a matter of principle, to stand against the unpaid labor women of color are too often expected to complete." When I shared this on LinkedIn last week, I was astonished by the response! So many thoughtful people chimed in with their scripts for responding to such requests, and many asked to borrow mine. Please do! It makes a difference to have a response prepared. It cuts back on any anxiety or uncertainty you may feel about your response, and eliminates decision-making about how to respond. These small “short cuts” add up over time; not only in protecting ourselves but in delivering a consistent message to the world about what we stand for–and paying it forward so that it becomes even more normalized to not ask women of color to work for free. 2. Equal Credit Equal Pay is not only a matter of dollars and cents. Compensation takes many forms, and credit is one of them. Women and women of color in particular are often denied the opportunity to do the work that is recognized and celebrated in an organization (yes, I’m referencing “office housework!”) Meanwhile white men largely get the advancement opportunities and credit. While a gap exists even in the recognition that white women receive compared with white men, white women are still more likely to be in high-visibility positions compared with women of color. This is why I center the experiences of women of color in my work and in my book Inclusion on Purpose. As I write in the book: “The intersection between gender and race/ethnicity uniquely impacts women. While women all over the world are at a disadvantage in society and workplaces compared with men, the intersection between gender and race is a key differentiator between women’s experiences. Taking an intersectional lens to equality becomes paramount because racism deeply compounds the bias women of color experience.” If you’re a woman, woman of color, or person with other underestimated identities, you’ve almost certainly experienced a lack of “equal credit.” I’m talking about your ideas being ignored in meetings until a white man repeats them; your raised hand being overlooked in an audience; your name listed last––if at all––on a group project. I share 5 ways that people with privilege can take action to give credit where due, here. So now, my favorite part. I would love to hear from you. What does Equal Pay Day mean to you, if anything? Do you think it’s useful? What’s your experience with saying “no” to unpaid labor, or getting “equal credit”? And if you’ve read the book, thank you!! Please consider leaving a review on Amazon. Click here to subscribe to the weekly Inclusion is Leadership letter.

Get married and become a mother. When I was a little girl, that was the message I got from all around me, even my own family members: My greatest purpose in life was to get married and become a mother. The messages were so loud and pervasive that I rarely sat down to dream about what I really wanted. What was my purpose? Why was I on this earth? What would help me come fully alive? I couldn’t even fathom a world where someone who looked like me would be able to create the type of life that centered around my heartfelt purpose. I just wasn’t shown a path where people like me could. And did. So, I did a lot of things that good Indian girls do: I got a stellar education, married a (wonderful, parent-approved) man and became a mother. I was even able to pursue a lesser-trodden path as a journalist–as long as my ambitions didn’t disrupt my family life. But in my heart, I knew there was something missing. I played small for many years because that’s all I thought was possible for me. I was told to be grateful because already, as the first woman in my family to do paid work outside the home, I had access to much more than my female ancestors did. I never thought that the day would come where I would have a big-name-publisher published book with my name on its cover. That people would ask me to share what I think, and to share the dreams I have for the world? I still pinch myself every day. But it’s here! And I’ll never be able to fully articulate what it means to me. But my hope and dream is that when anyone reads Inclusion on Purpose, they know for sure that they don’t have to play small. Especially not because of anything to do with their race, gender, sexual orientation, body size, disability…or any other horrible way we divide and categorize and assign value and worth to people. That is why I wrote Inclusion on Purpose. This book is a culmination of the hard work of SO many. I built upon the foundations laid by brave activists such as Audre Lorde, Savitrabai Phule and Dolores Huerta, who risked everything to create a world where women of color would be at the center of all power and agency. My inspiration ran deep from contemporary trailblazers who bravely surface issues of injustice today, whose shoulders I stand on. Then there is the actual team that worked on making this book come alive. And then, of course, there is you, championing it and sharing it. I am grateful and humbled by your support. The book may have my name on its cover, but it’s by and for all of us. Thank you. Click here to subscribe to the weekly Inclusion is Leadership letter.

The Establishment was a women-funded-and-run media startup where I worked in 2015. In many ways, The Establishment was well ahead of its time–we published on trans, sex worker and reproductive rights at a time when most mainstream media were still writing about why women needed to lean in. (I know, some still do.) The startup–like 90% of startups–failed, but through it, I got to work with Ijeoma Oluo, one of the most inspiring and courageous leaders on this planet. Ijeoma’s deep understanding of, and ability to explain intersectionality and how race and racism impact our professional lives opened my eyes in a profound way. I’m now deeply embarrassed to look back on how naive I was to ever talk about gender equality in the workplace without centering race. In the seven years since we first spoke to each other, Ijeoma’s star has shone brighter than ever and I’m beyond proud (and glad) that more of the world gets to experience her brilliance. Her ability to speak hard truths is unparalleled. Go buy her books, (NYT-bestsellers) So You Want To Talk About Race and Mediocre. You’ll be a changed person. It’s not an overstatement to say that I would not have written my book, Inclusion on Purpose if my path didn’t cross Ijeoma’s–if I didn’t get to see her live her values not only on public stages, but in editorial meetings for The Establishment, where she advocated tirelessly to publish women of color, queer, disabled, trans writers. She modeled this not only when she came out to a beautiful resort to speak about racism and neocolonialism to a group of my (mostly white) clients at a private retreat, but in how she drove back 3 hours at the crack of dawn to take her elderly neighbor to the doctor, rather than enjoy the pool, spa and free breakfast. That’s the Ijeoma Oluo I’ve been lucky to know, and I was incredibly honored that she wrote the foreword to Inclusion on Purpose. I’m also delighted that Ijeoma is spending the evening of March 1 at Town Hall with me to launch my book. The event is in-person and virtual, and I would be thrilled to have you join me and Ijeoma for our conversation. Ijeoma’s time is so valuable and yet, she uses every ounce of it to amplify other women of color. I’ve seen her stand for hours after events, talking to every individual who comes up to her. May we all learn from not only her brilliant words, but how she lives them in every way. Inclusion on Purpose is on shelves now. Thank you so much for being part of this experience with me! Click here to subscribe to the weekly Inclusion is Leadership letter.

One way to practice inclusion every day is by being intentional about who owns the stores you buy from. Below is a list of bookstores owned by women of color that have my book, Inclusion on Purpose, available for pre-order now. Thank you, Laura Clise of Intentionalist for curating this amazing list and always reminding us to #SpendLikeItMatters: ➡️ Estelita’s Library: Black-owned, woman-owned, family-owned (Seattle, WA) ➡️ Yu and Me Books: Asian-owned, woman-owned (NYC, NY) ➡️ Epilogue Books Chocolate Brews: Latino-owned, woman-owned (Chapel Hill, NC) ➡️ The Tiny Bookstore: Black-owned, woman-owned, family-owned (Pittsburgh, PA) ➡️ ​Duende District Bookstore: Latino-owned, women-owned (Washington, DC) ➡️ Palabras Bookstore: Latino owned, woman-owned (Phoenix, AZ) ➡️ Cafe Con Libros: Black-owned, Latina-owned, Woman-owned (Brooklyn, NY) ➡️ Loyalty Bookstore: Black-owned, Queer-owned, woman-owned (Washington, DC and Silver Spring, MD) Many of you have been asking where to buy my book, and I’m happy to share that these bookstores all have it! Do you have a recommendation for a local bookstore owned by women of color? If so, please share it with me to build on this resource! Thanks. Click here to subscribe to the weekly Inclusion is Leadership letter.

My book Inclusion on Purpose was supposed to come out on February 8th. I spent most of last year with this date planted firmly in my mind. It was going to be The Day when years of hard work, hope and excitement would culminate, and my book would be in the hands of extraordinary people like you! And then, well… thanks to an ongoing global pandemic and supply chain issues, my book is coming out on March 1st and February 8th is just a strangely ordinary Tuesday. Not if I have anything to say about it! I’m excited to share that I’ve launched a campaign so I can still express my gratitude for your early support of Inclusion on Purpose. Everyone who pre-orders my book will get an exclusive look at my favorite chapter from the book, plus access to a private, live event with me on February 28th! This live, virtual event is an opportunity for you to “ask me anything” — what sparked the idea for this book, who I decided to interview and why, my writing process, or anything else. It’s my way of saying thank you for your ongoing support. I can’t wait to hang out with you! All you need to do to receive the sneak-peek chapter and access the private event is preorder Inclusion on Purpose, and sign up on my website. (If you’ve already pre-ordered the book, amazing and thank you! Sign up on my website to get these rewards.) Thank you so much for being here, for reading this, and for your ongoing support. I can’t wait to share my favorite chapter with you. Click here to subscribe to the weekly Inclusion is Leadership letter.

Growing up in Asia and living in the UK and a number of British ex-colonies, one of the core tenets I learned for how to operate in society is to be the opposite of boastful. As a child, when an Auntie bragged to my mum about how amazing her children were, or how her husband was God’s reincarnation, we’d go back home and agree that this behavior was offensive and abnormal. “Above all, be humble,” says my mother to this day. I’ve spent most of my life operating in this mindset: talk about yourself only when absolutely necessary. Be self-deprecating when you do. Better still, turn the conversation to the other. (It felt natural to become a journalist.) So it was a huge culture shock for me to move to the United States ten years ago this month and find that what constitutes healthy self-confidence and self-promotion here would be downright boastful anywhere else I’ve lived. This cultural expectation has a material impact on many immigrants, like myself. We either learn to assimilate and incorporate this behavior (call it confidence/self-promotion in the positive or boastful/always selling in the negative) or we lose out on promotions, advancement, and recognition for our efforts. Add in other marginalized identities into the mix and we may as well pass out resumes to everyone we meet or risk being rendered invisible. But this is not an “immigrant issue.” During a call with another author (an American woman of Indian immigrant heritage) she shared her list of upcoming podcast appearances and media reach-outs, and I thought, she sounds so excited. But I’d rather eat glass than do what she’s doing. Even with our shared identities, our comfort level with self-promotion differs. It’s also not a self-confidence, self-doubt or (heaven forbid) imposter syndrome issue. I deeply believe that the work I put out is meaningful and valuable. When I’m asked to create anything for public consumption, I put 110% into it. I do not need validation. If I am invited to be heard I will gladly take the opportunity. But to ask to be invited to be heard? No thank you! It leaves me with some questions: How much of my discomfort with self-promotion is nature or nurture? I can trace the influence of nurture from my family and culture of origin, but it doesn’t apply across the board. There must be a component of nature. Perhaps some people (especially introverted or shy people or those who like to process internally, but even the ambiverts like me) are more at ease being reserved about their accomplishments. It’s simply what feels right and authentic to us. What are the systemic implications? In the United States at least, people who are comfortable promoting themselves are rewarded. The Internet and books are abound with advice to improve your self-advocacy; make sure your boss knows how you’re earning that promotion; proactively communicate your success. And it’s worth noting that much of this advice is aimed at women (even synonyms for “humble” like modest or demure are more traditionally associated with and expected of women.) But it’s oversimplified to conclude, “self-promotion is good and humility is bad.” Self-promotion is rewarded not because it’s “better,” but because it’s expected. (The same is true with negotiation. You've probably seen the recent recruiter post about a low offer to a female candidate — I responded here.) Which brings up this point: How can we be inclusive of those who aren’t inclined to self-promote? Can we create an inclusive workplace that equally rewards self-promoters and those who don’t? Imagine a culture in which the onus was on managers to ask their employees about their wins. That’s just a small example, but I hope it sparks your imagination to consider how we could practice this kind of inclusion. My discomfort with self-promotion leaves me in a strange conundrum: As a soon-to-be traditionally published author, self-promotion is pretty much the second reason any publisher takes a chance on you (after the fact that they think you have a good idea for a book.) Their belief in your marketability is literally why some first-time authors get six or even seven figure advances and others get almost nothing (that, and racism.) I came into the book proposal stage essentially writing out exactly how (and how often) I would tell everyone I know to buy my book when it was published, two years later. Well two years later is (almost) here. And my comfort with self-promotion has grown by…exactly zero. Every time I have to do it, I need to lie down afterwards. If anything, the advice I’m getting now that my book release date is round the corner —send people you know multiple emails on how they can support your book, be on 300+ podcasts, hound journalists and influencers to cover your book, drop that you’re an upcoming author in every conversation — honestly makes my stomach churn. I’d rather have my work speak for itself. So here I am, with my book coming out next month (!) Do I follow the author's self-promotion playbook? Do I market myself like it’s a full-time job? Do I say yes to every podcast, blog, Instagram Live etc that comes my way? Or is there a way to balance my authentic self, my genuine aversion to self-promotion, with being a successful author? I don’t have the answer — and that’s why I’m asking you! I would love to hear your perspective in the comments. Have you struggled with this? Have you seen examples of humility being rewarded? What are ways we can be as inclusive to and celebratory of non-self-promoters? 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