The Road To Inclusion: Why Unheard Stories Matter
‘Inclusion’ has been playing on my mind recently — in fact it’s a topic that’s been keeping me up at night. The idea that you can belong, or not, and the effects that has on a person’s self belief, identity and general place in the world. This short article explores how, by discovering unheard stories, I’ve been able to sleep.
I’d love to know what you, dear reader, think as I believe there’s no more important conversation I could be having at the moment — I find it transcending all I do. So, please do add to the conversation in the comments after you’ve stewed over my words for a while.
Loving the like-minded.
The idea of belonging is a very powerful thing. As Octavius Black discusses in his TEDx talk from 2015 about the science of inclusion (which is what prompted me to start pondering this all in the first place), humans have a ‘built in sense of wanting to connect with people ”like us”’.
We can’t ignore this biological bias. However, as today’s societies find themselves increasingly divided, the reasons (and methods) for connection are far more complex. Whether we look at debates across politics, gender, faith, race or even dietary choices; issues of inclusion, belonging and identity can always be found at the core.
The pain of rejection is real.
One of the stories Black shares in his talk is of a young Latin Amercian banking grad who is embarrassingly mistaken for a waiter by a senior member of staff at a work event (to set the scene, the grad has made a poor choice in formal wear at his mother’s advice and is out of place surrounded by his peers who have dressed casually for the occasion). His fellow colleagues don’t speak up to correct their senior staff member’s mistake and the grad is left feeling excluded from his peers. Throughout his talk Black explores the very real pain these moments of exclusion can cause a person. A response to being left out that is, as he describes, ‘the only psychological effect that has the same neurological impact as physical pain’ (read more about the science behind the brains’ Anterior Cingulate Cortex here — it’s fascinating).
To avoid these painful moments Black explores the pivot. The split second opportunity that grad’s colleagues had to change the fate of his experience. For example, they had the opportunity to change the course of the conversation by introducing the grad as the one responsible for a recent team success and then offering to go and get a drink for everyone themselves in the grad’s place; thereby firmly placing him as a member of the team (not a waiter) and avoiding embarrassing the senior colleague in the process.
Now there are moments like this happening all around us. Think about it for a second or two, think back to a time when you felt left out. It could be in the office, within a friendship group or a childhood memory. I certainly have memories from school that are just as painful and long-lasting (if not more so) than any physical injury I’ve ever had. I can recall many in my adult life as well. These moments are often obvious and devastating to those that directly experience them, however to those onlookers (like the grad’s peers) they can pass by either undetected or not detected fast enough to make any meaningful pivot to correct the dialogue or action. The challenge, as Black puts it, is how to act quickly in the moment ‘to bring people that are different, who might feel rejected, together’.
Sexism in the workplace often operates in a similar manner and has similar challenges. Sexist behaviours and actions can pass so quickly, and be delivered so implicitly over time, that the receiver often doesn’t even have time to process and respond appropriately, let alone an onlooker who is not directly involved. I’ve spoken to multiple people that, although they have instinctively known the moment was not appropriate, have not spoken up as they were only able to explicitly identify the issue after hearing similar experiences from other people who’d been able to clearly articulate the boundary that was crossed. And that can take years after the fact. The ‘Me Too’ movement is an excellent example of this. Where the stories of a few became the catalyst of recognition and identification of similar moments for thousands of other women; some of whom hadn’t even made the connection to the moments being inappropriate in the first place. The movement created a shared experience, a sense of belonging and understanding that had not existed before… because the conversation, the stories, weren’t widely accessible or accepted at the time.
Why unheard stories can matter the most.
So, here’s why I’m being kept up at night.
There is power in a shared experience. It creates a sense of belonging, a shared language and connection. It bonds us. By definition ‘to share’ is to transmit information between parties… and what, if anything, is a more engaging transmission of data than great storytelling?
Reflecting on why inclusion is keeping me up at night I realised that I was coming to terms with, and freaking out over, the weight of responsibility as an author, as a storyteller, as a community leader. And this was especially the case when it came to my own moonlighting efforts at writing a children’s novel, nevermind the pressure of managing and connecting one of the most creative and intelligent communities on the planet. I was drowning myself with the idea that I had to tell stories in a way that included and empowered everyone in the face of the injustices I see around me everyday; in a way that fought toxic subconscious biases, spoke to political divides, stood up against inequality, makes better things for people and the planet. It’s only recently I’ve realised that the best job I can do is the only job I can do; share my own take on the world, tell stories about what I’ve experienced and how I see and want the world to be — what it could be. And yes this could be in a grand storyline around a mythical creature refugee crisis (that’s happening!)… but it could be creating curious characters with open minds that question the world around them. Characters that are open to having their biases challenged, purposefully connect with characters unlike themselves and don’t fit into the stereotypes we’re used to.
Let’s not settle. Let’s contradict.
In my opinion, curiosity — the act of asking great questions — is the most powerful characteristic we have as humans. It drives innovation and growth. But to be curious is also to be contradictory. By contradicting what we know, what we’ve previously accepted to be true and good, and ask if there’s a better way. And that can be uncomfortable. But I believe that to be comfortable is dangerously close to simply settling. And if we settle we can’t change.
Consider these examples for a moment.
- That between 2000–2009 only 134 Chinese books were translated into English… compare to 5,974 English books that were translated into Chinese. In fact, between those years ‘Chinese is the receiving language of barely 5% of all the translations done [in this study]’… just think of the stories knowledge and stories us English-speakers are missing out on. The imbalance, given Chinese is spoken by a quarter of the world’s population, is extraordinary.
(Source: Is That A Fish In Your Ear by David Bellos). - That boys have to be strong. That to share their emotions or cry would be shameful, even though the pain of loss or sorrow or even the shame itself, is overwhelming.
- That in many books female characters don’t have jobs… and on that note, a study showed that less than 20% of children’s books showed women with a job, compared to more than 80% of male characters — read more about this here.
So here’s why I’m restless.
I discovered these specific examples only recently and each demonstrates a reality I will not be complicit in settling for. I want my male friends to feel they can be open with their emotions without risk of judgment. I want to be able to access Chinese stories in my language and have them inspire me and open my mind. And the thought of little girls not seeing their adult lives as ones where they are hired and paid and valued for their talents repulses me.
In my opinion risk of suffering is too great. Suffering because not enough stories are being told by the few, the ones that could reframe our thinking, shed light on new perspectives, provide a sense of belonging that has not existed before — for those that didn’t even know they needed to hear the story in the first place.
Join me on the hunt for the unheard.
There are so many beautiful examples of stories that are countering this. Since watching Black’s video I’ve made it my mission to hunt them down. The positivity and inspiration I’ve found from hearing, reading and listening to these brave, adventurous souls sharing their stories is overwhelming and fuels me to explore, and write, and present, and share in spaces that are uncomfortable and unnatural to me. Why? Because the only thing I can do to fit in in these spaces, to belong, is to ask questions. It forces me to be curious and to be open and to be vulnerable. And what glorious things these are.
But my exploration, and others’ journeys like mine, can only be made in the spaces that exist. We need companies and parents and writers and investors to be brave and cater for and support these few, so that the many can hear their stories.
We must live and love and question and share together. Because as Black puts it so eloquently…
‘I’m not different from you, I’m different like you.’
So, let’s be curious and tell great stories about the incredible answers to our all our questions. Let’s celebrate being different and belong together.
