When It’s Close To Us

Not long ago, my daughter told me she was getting tested for autism. 

“Honey, you’re 28!” I said. “Why do you want to get tested? Wouldn’t we know by now if you were autistic?”

She said her therapist had recommended it. “I think it might explain some things,” she said.

My first reaction to my daughter wanting to get tested was surprise. My brain brought forward a picture of what “autistic” looks like (all based on stereotypes), none of which matched my view of my daughter. 

The tests confirmed that she is on the Autism Spectrum —what they used to call Asperger's Syndrome. 

Once she received a diagnosis, I realized that I need to deepen my understanding of autism. Although I talk about neurodiversity as part of my DEI work, my knowledge is neither deep nor wide. 

Then I wondered: why hadn’t I deepened my awareness before now? 

For many of us, it takes being proximate to a situation to make us care enough to want to learn more and to attend to any biases we might hold. 

Rob Portman, the Republican senator from Ohio, comes to mind. He was one of the most vocal opponents of marriage equality a decade ago—until his son came out. 

Senator Portman had been advocating for policies that restricted and endangered people. Only when he learned that one of the people harmed was his own child did he see that clearly.

Our biases remain in place—shaping our choices—until we have a personal experience that overturns them. 

A friend of mine told me about a colleague who was frustrating him—missing emotional cues, provoking awkward interactions, failing to respond to feedback. My friend had started to avoid him, leaving him out of projects and even gossiping about how “difficult” he was.

Then someone suggested that the colleague was demonstrating characteristics of some forms of autism. 

My friend was mortified that he had assumed his colleague was unprofessional and scatter-brained. But the new knowledge helped him set aside his own feelings of awkwardness and see his colleague’s many strengths and skills more clearly. 

My friend also found more effective ways to interact with his colleague. He focused on changing his own behaviors, rather than expecting his colleague to adapt.

That positive shift is paying dividends. I think this is the right approach as we work to create inclusive spaces. We don’t need to do everything in the same way. We need to find ways to collaborate and interact effectively so that we have the benefit of all our strengths.

I’m proud of my daughter for getting tested and embracing this diagnosis. And I’m learning so much from her and from the books she’s recommended. 

I have no doubt that what I learn will improve my professional and social interactions. As Maya Angelou said, “Do the best you can until you know better. Then, when you know better, do better.”

Thank You, Beth Chandler

Beth Chandler has made an indelible mark on our city.

I’ve had the honor of serving on the Board of YW Boston since 2018. That was the year that Beth began her leadership as President & CEO of this crucial Boston organization. In 2020, I became the Board Chair, which gave me the opportunity to work more closely with Beth.

Beth is stepping down this summer, after 12 years with YW Boston and six as its head.

With her guidance and advocacy, YW Boston has made Boston a more equitable place for the benefit of all residents, in particular women of color. Beth stewarded the non-profit through historic challenges, from a complex strategic planning process to navigating the pandemic to selling the landmark Back Bay building. She also seeded the growth of diversity and inclusion throughout our institutions.  

I’ve learned a lot from Beth over the years. 

From her strength—she’s very direct, and stands up for what she believes to be right. 

From her willingness to listen to different opinions and perspectives, and change her mind. 

And I particularly appreciate the combination of vision and strategy that Beth demonstrated. Anyone who wants to make transformative change in their organizations can learn lessons from her tenure. 

When she led us in a deep probe into the meaning of our mission, she helped us focus on who our beneficiaries really are: not just the clients we consulted or the participants in the program, but the colleagues and clients of those people. She saw how YW Boston was a catalyst, inspiring and supporting people to be change agents in their own organizations. 

I vividly remember when the Board was discussing a tough decision. We’d been losing money on a volunteer-facilitated service. She wanted to hire staff to deliver it more effectively and charge a fee. We were anxious about the risk of hiring people with a budget deficit. 

Beth presented the alternatives clearly: we could gradually bleed out over time, or we could take this risk and build toward a sustainable model. 

She recognized it was the time for bold moves. We agreed. 

And when the demand for DEI services exploded, we had the people we needed and we were well positioned to provide the services. 

She also knew that boldness isn’t always about expansion. When I joined the board, YW Boston had 10 or 12 programs—we were spread a little thin. Beth and the leadership team honed the portfolio basically to three: Inclusion Boston, LeadBoston, and FYRE. These, along with advocacy campaigns like parity on boards and United Against Racism, share a theory of change: they build a group of people who have a real deep understanding of equity and inclusion, so that they can go back to their organizations and create change. 

That vision has helped create a better climate for everyone. 

I give Beth my gratitude and my personal admiration, for all that she’s done—for YW Boston, for so many organizations that have worked with us, and for the City of Boston. 

Thank you, Beth.

Belonging Is An Outcome

“Belonging” is that sense a person gets when they feel welcomed in a space. They are treated with respect. They can be themselves without feeling judged. They have access to the full range of experiences and opportunities. 

The whole world feels that way to some people, but not to others. 

Many of our cultural institutions and spaces were designed, consciously or not, to welcome those who belonged to one class, race, gender, age range, or other social category.

Now, fortunately, many of them seek to widen their access. They see that attracting a broad range of visitors, including young people, will help them stay relevant and survive into the future. 

But you can’t just declare “We’re welcoming!” Belonging is an outcome. It doesn’t happen without intentional effort. 

This is why I appreciate “BPS Sundays,” the pilot program launched in February by Boston Mayor Michelle Wu. Through the program, every Boston Public Schools student and up to three guests can attend six of the city’s major museums free of charge on the first two Sundays of every month until August.

The program feels like a win for the children, their families, and the cultural institutions: the Museum of Fine Arts, the Institute of Contemporary Art, the New England Aquarium, the Museum of Science, the Boston Children’s Museum, and the Franklin Park Zoo. 

We have worked with several of these organizations. We’ve also worked with Mount Auburn Cemetery, a gorgeous, sweeping public space that has had only one entrance in recent years. You could live next door and it would take you 20 minutes to get in. So they recently opened up five new entrances to show that all are welcome.

What better way to let the neighborhood in than to open more doors? 

Creating a sense of belonging requires more than opening the door, though. The institutions we’ve worked with have also invested in their people, training all employees on increasing their awareness of their own biases. They have provided front-line staff with skills for interacting with first-time visitors and those who don’t share the demographics of patrons from previous generations, so that they can respond to any issues that may arise, including microaggressions. 

But most of the people in a museum aren’t staff.

They are visitors. 

Visitors can make other visitors feel very unwelcome. Sometimes, without realizing it, we do things that signal to others—for example, young kids or teenagers who are dressed differently or more talkative—that they are out of place. 

Do we clutch our purses? Look down our nose? Complain about them making noise?

The museum can’t send us, the visitors, to a workshop on unconscious bias. That’s on each of us individually. 

So if you are comfortable in a space, remember the role you play in making others feel the same way. Give them a smile and some room to discover what you love about it. Maybe they’re visiting as part of the BPS Sundays pilot.

Let’s do our part to get them hooked on the cultural treasures of our city.