Three Summertime Steps For DEI

I hesitate to say it’s a “quiet time” at work. For a lot of organizations, especially under-resourced non-profits, there’s no room for downtime in a system already over capacity. If that’s you…maybe skip this post.

But many of us do work at places with seasonal cycles. Sometimes the dog days of summer are not as packed with client-led business. We may not exactly relax, but perhaps we delete a few old emails, sort a drawer or two, or schedule some self-guided trainings.

This time is also a great opportunity to invest in important DEI work. Here are some suggestions for managers and leaders to consider during the “quiet time” of summer—or whenever you may find yourself without urgent deadlines or back-to-back meetings.

1. Reflect and assess. Think about your team. What dynamics have you observed this past year? When have you functioned really well, and when were there tensions? Then consider each member of your team individually. Make a table and write each person’s name, and make notes on these questions:

2. Engagement - How are they feeling about work? Who seems connected with others at the organization, and who might be isolated? 

3. Opportunity - How have they been able to contribute? Who speaks up at meetings? What projects and assignments have they been assigned? Who has gotten stretch assignments? Who has mentors and who doesn’t?

Together, these answers may give you an idea of the different levels of inclusion among your employees. If you see disparities, it doesn’t mean you’ve failed as a manager. It means you have found an opportunity to improve a relationship.

1. Check in. With all the vacations people take over the summer, it may not be feasible to do a group team-builder or retreat. So schedule one-on-ones when each person is working and available. Ask how they’re doing, how they feel about the workplace. What do they need to do their best work? What professional development would they like to see? This is a chance to engage more holistically and more informally than in their annual reviews. You can even add a social aspect if you are both in the same location: end with lunch or coffee, or go for a walk in the park. Make a personal connection to build on in the year ahead.
   

2. Plan. Reread your reflections, and add in what you heard in the one-on-ones. Are there themes that more than one person mentioned? Where did people want different things—requiring differentiated support from you? List concrete actions you can take to provide more of what they told you they need. And don’t do it all on your own. When your team is back together, plan for a learning or social opportunity you’ll do together, and let them know what you are going to focus on as a manager (based on what you heard from them) and ask for their feedback. 

When the clients start calling and emailing hard and fast in the fall, you’ll be glad you took advantage of the quieter times to step back and look at your team’s inclusion needs. You’ll want everyone to feel supported, mentored, and appreciated when the work is at its hardest. 

Covering Autism

“You can't always see disability from the outside.”

My daughter reminded me of this after I reacted with surprise to her recent diagnosis of autism as an adult. 

I had a stereotype in my mind of what autistic people looked like. I’ve been on a great learning journey with her ever since.

“People see my outward accomplishments, but they don't see how much extra effort I'm putting in as a neurodivergent person trying to live in a neurotypical world,” she explained.

This is a feeling I know well. As a Black woman, I’m an expert at code switching and masking—coping mechanisms that people use, consciously or subconsciously, to fit in at school, work, and in social situations when they don’t fit the norms of the dominant group. 

Race and gender can be covered to an extent. Women and people of color modify their voices, gestures, dress, and behaviors to avoid racist and misogynist judgements about strength and leadership, emotional stability, and professionalism. 

Kenji Yoshino’s book Covering shows how this plays out for people who are gay. When someone can cover so thoroughly that their full self is truly secret, they pay a psychological price. People who are trans or non-binary must experience this at a profound level as well, especially if they have not come out or transitioned.

Not all identities are visible, as my daughter’s story proves. “Depending on where you are on the spectrum, you may have more ability to mask and appear as an allistic, neurotypical person,” my daughter said. “But that doesn't mean that you don't need accommodations or support to function, in a world that's disabling for anybody who doesn't fit the mold.”

Some people have told her that it’s a good thing she was able to cover so well and be high-functioning. But it’s exhausting. 

Excessive masking can lead to burnout, further disabling the person. It takes energy to fit in to what others consider the norm. 

Why does this matter in professional workspaces? Well, when an employee’s energy is directed into the struggle to fit in, there is less left for the job. The organization doesn’t benefit from everything that employee could be contributing. And they aren’t on a level playing field with peers who don’t need to compensate for bias. 

This is more than an interpersonal or training issue. Organizations should address their systems and culture, to ensure that every employee has the tools and understanding to do their best work. 

Inclusion doesn’t just benefit the one group you’re thinking of. It's for everybody who doesn't fit in a box—which, in a way, is all of us. Everyone's unique. Treat people that way.

Learning From My Autistic Daughter

As I shared a couple of weeks ago, when my adult daughter was diagnosed with Level 1 autism, I had to face an uncomfortable realization: I had held implicit biases around what an autistic person looks like. I’ve been talking with my daughter about it ever since. 

“Many assume that autistic people present in a certain way,” she said. “People who know me are surprised—like, ‘You're autistic? Really?’ The spectrum is wide and people often think in stereotypes. Autistic people and their needs vary as much as anyone else.” 

She told me a saying: “If you meet one autistic person, you've met one autistic person.” 

“You may or may not already have interacted with different autistic people throughout your life,” she reminded me. “You could be meeting autistic people all the time who you just think are quirky or slightly different than you. You could be autistic and not know that about yourself.”

I told her I was sorry I had failed to recognize this diagnosis in her needs as a child.

“Even some professional psychologists diagnose autism based on a narrow set of characteristics,” she  continued. “Although the diagnostic criteria is based on deficits from an allistic perspective”—allistic is a term for people who are not autistic—”we have a lot of strengths as well.”

She said that, even though it would have been nice to have gotten diagnosed earlier, she was grateful for her upbringing.

“You didn't realize your daughter was autistic, but you recognized, validated, and accommodated my unique needs. You didn't have further knowledge about autism, but you respected me as a whole person, even as a child. Many autistic people realize that they are autistic from being made to feel different and less than, by their peers, their parents, or both. Even though I was diagnosed later on, I'm glad I had a family that loved me just the way I am."

She also told me about the “social model of disability,” a term coined by academic and disability rights activist Mike Oliver. She explained that we call autism and ADHD “disabilities” mostly to acknowledge that the world makes those neurological differences “disabling.” 

“In a different context,” she said, “people who have those conditions wouldn't face the same challenges or be considered ‘lesser.’ In a different culture, they might thrive, and a neurotypical person might struggle.” 

Maya summed up: “The only reason why I am being diagnosed at the ripe old age of 28, practically 29, is because the world is not as validating and accommodating as my family.” 

Whatever stereotypes I may have picked up over the years, my maternal instinct was right: Maya is unique and perfect. I learn what she needs as an individual, it feels natural to accommodate what makes her special. 

Then it doesn’t even feel like accommodation. It just feels like love. 

In professional spaces, that means less judging—based on how we think the majority behaves—and more accepting and valuing the strengths of each person.