Why I Thrived in Zoom Classes
For the past year, I’ve harbored a secret: I actually enjoyed my graduate-school classes on Zoom. Don’t get me wrong; I miss the energy in a classroom as much as anyone else. But I’ve always felt invisible in groups, and Zoom created a more inclusive environment for me. As we return to the classroom this summer, I hope we can extend it to post-pandemic life.
A five-foot Asian woman with a soft voice and quiet demeanor, I don’t command attention when I walk into a room. The most common feedback I got at work was that I needed to show more gravitas in meetings. A manager once told me: “It’s great that you have a calm presence, but you just don’t seem that excited to be here.”
When I talk to my tall friends, they have to bend forward and tilt their heads, like giraffes sipping water. What’s more, I dread small talk. I often drank more than I planned because sips from a red solo cup was my coping mechanism during yet another conversation about a group trip or party I didn’t go to. This problem isn’t unique to me — studies have shown that women and other minorities often struggle with speaking up in groups.
That’s why I was full of trepidation when I began a course called “Interpersonal Dynamics” (nicknamed “Touchy Feely”) at Stanford Business School. In this class, students form 12-person groups and spend almost 50 hours giving each other feedback on how they come across.
But on Zoom I excelled. Everyone was the same size and spoke at the same volume. No more inherent power differentials. Unable to express emotions physically with gestures or touch, I became comfortable verbalizing feelings. I thrived in the absence of small talk, which was awkward on Zoom. I used thoughtful questions to create deep conversations.
My teammates knew that I cared. In an exercise where we had to rank each other by the amount of influence, I was ranked first — recognition I’d never earned. During the weekend retreat that capped our class, we shared tears and laughter. We had formed connections that transcended the limitations of virtual learning. It’s impossible to know how my experience would’ve been in-person. What I know is that Zoom made me forget that I took up less space than others, and helped me be seen more easily.
As we move back to in-person learning and work, I find myself searching for similar inclusive spaces in the physical world. Let’s ask ourselves: what can we do to make everyone feel heard and welcome?
A good place to start is to notice whether people have equal airtime in meetings. Are there a few loud voices dominating? Consider soliciting input from everyone beforehand and inviting those with good ideas to speak. Are people often interrupted? Try pausing longer before moving on to the next topic so everyone gets an opportunity to jump in. Simple tactics can make a big difference.
Another factor is creating inclusive conversations. One tactic is to draw upon the broadest shared experience of a group. Instead of talking among friends about a ski trip to Japan or an exclusive house party, invite the whole group in by discussing the all-hands meeting, or simply by giving everyone a chance to share how they’re doing. Inclusivity can also take the form of deep inquiry and empathetic listening. We can all commit to engaging in deeper conversations with an open mind to connect with each other.
Zoom suppressed many unconscious biases we hold that make it hard for people to engage and feel seen in groups. It’s time that we learn from this experience and do better.
