Systemic Change...or Insider Amnesia?

Reacting to The 6 Rules Women Must Break in Order to Succeed, my favorite blogger, Paul Smith, stated:

"...their definitions of power were built upon structures of power already in existence...it seemed the very structure they claim is holding them back, is the same one they want to embrace...instead of creating truly new rules, they were suggesting to follow rules already in place...I was hoping it would resemble this quote from Alison Maitland..."We shouldn't be fixing the women but the system"...To me, if you wish to truly create new rules: take charge of yourself, create your own definitions of success and power, and be the captain of your own ship."

For once, I had to disagree with Paul. I agree that systemic change is needed. But I do not believe that it can be driven by those who do not control those systems. I used to believe that, but, after years of trying to impact change from the outside, I don't anymore. At least, I don't believe it can be done at a pace that will create a change I will see in my career. For significant, swift, meaningful, and lasting change, it needs to be driven by insiders, by those who control the systems. So, we need a critical mass of insiders motivated to change the systems under their control. But insiders have no incentive to change the systems that got them to where they are and help them maintain their position and power. And, simply by being an insider, they have not felt the inequity, bias, or discrimination that the current systems sustain.

One possible way to achieve that critical mass is for those who are currently outsiders to masterfully navigate the existing system to attain the leadership roles in larger numbers. I think that's what the 6 Rules are meant to do:

"We want to see women make up at least 30 percent of the leaders at the top levels of corporate America within the next 10 years. We believe that 30 percent will be a tipping point. If (when) that happens, the goals and direction of corporate America will change. The old rules will be shattered, America’s corporations will be better lead, and everyone will benefit."

The trouble is, once people become insiders, my experience is that they forget what it was like to be outsiders (or maybe they were never really outsiders, weren't change champions to start, or don't have enough insider support to change the system).

Can critical mass even be achieved in the next 10 years? And, even if it is achieved (which is a pretty big "if," given the roadblocks inherent in the system -- it's not as if we haven't tried to break the glass ceiling before), will the new insiders suddenly have insider amnesia and lose their passion to change the system?

I think "insider amnesia" – my term for forgetting what you wanted to change in the system when you were an outsider – is human nature. Reminds me of the anecdote in a December 2006 HBR article, "The Curse of Knowledge," by Chip and Dan Heath (also brought to mind by one of Paul's relatively recent posts). They describe a psychology experiment in which a group of people were divided into those who would tap out the rhythm of a well-known song on a table and those who would listen and try to identify the song. Tappers were asked to predict the probability that the listeners would guess correctly, and they guessed 50%. The actual success ratio was 2.5%. The tappers were shocked at the listeners' inability to identify the songs. The disparity was summed up:

"When a tapper taps, it is impossible for her to avoid hearing the tune playing along to her taps. Meanwhile, all the listener can hear is a kind of bizarre Morse code. Yet the tappers were flabbergasted by how hard the listeners had to work to pick up the tune.

The problem is that once we know something—say, the melody of a song—we find it hard to imagine not knowing it. Our knowledge has “cursed” us. We have difficulty sharing it with others, because we can’t readily re-create their state of mind."

Maybe once we begin tapping from the inside, the system seems less broken to us, even though it hasn't changed. Or maybe we just are more invested in protecting the system that is currently rewarding us. It's probably some of both.

I'd still like to see 30% women at top leadership levels in corporate America within a decade, just to see if that is a tipping point. Couldn’t hurt to try that experiment, could it?

What do you think?

• Is it possible for women to achieve a critical mass of corporate leadership roles within 10 years within the existing business infrastructure?
• What are critical success factors?
• What do you think will happen if the goal is achieved?
• How do you feel about all of this?
• What will you do?

I'm Obviously No Girl Scout

I was never a Girl Scout and I wasn’t quite certain that it would be right for my two young daughters, but my husband talked me into letting our girls join Daisy Scouts this year because of his fond memories of boy scouting when he was a child. After reading the literature, it seemed that there could be little harm in allowing our daughters to join such a well-established organization with professed values (Girl Scout promise and law).

We have nothing but praise for the particular troops to which our daughters belong and their dedicated and responsible troop leaders. But, recently, my husband attended a father-daughter dance with our girls and I attended World Friendship Day with them, which are events that pull together a number of troops at various scouting levels throughout the area. I now wonder if exposure to the Girl Scouts, after seeing it beyond the two troops to which our girls belong, will teach our daughters values completely contrary to the organization’s professed values.

My husband said that, when he arrived at the father-daughter dance with our two young daughters, there were some tables near the door, presumably staffed by senior scouts, where attendees were to check in and be directed to their tables. He was appalled by the older Girl Scouts’ lack of knowledge, discourteousness, and unhelpfulness. We passed this off as an anomaly.

Then, I attended World Friendship Day with my daughters. I can no longer think that the first signs of trouble that my husband noticed at the father-daughter dance are an anomaly. I found little information on “World Friendship Day” when I tried to look it up online. However, I assume it is somehow connected with “World Thinking Day” as described on the girlscouts.org site, which is purposed to work together to end extreme poverty and hunger, celebrate international friendships, and remind U.S. Girl Scouts that they are part of a global community.

I saw attempts to achieve these purposes—or, at least, not to hinder them—in some of the programs for World Friendship Day. However, the parts that did seem consistent with the purposes were overshadowed by everything ranging from a simple laziness and lack of effort to understand or share even a single relevant bit of information about the culture represented to blatant mockeries of other cultures.

Not bothering to find even a single relevant detail about another culture, taking a “close enough” attitude that confuses two different cultures, or mocking other cultures—and then going onstage to parade this lack of regard—don’t say “world friendship” to me. For example:

• Is it possible that the best way to build community with those of Egyptian heritage is acting out the song “Walk Like an Egyptian,” including Halloween-style mummies playing guitar? It’s a catchy song and the skit was mildly amusing, but if Girl Scouts from Cairo had been in the audience, would they have felt included and proud, or would they have felt that we don’t care enough about them to do any work at all to understand their culture? We must make an effort.
  
  
• Did it celebrate friendship with the people of Tonga to represent their culture by dancing to a song that repeated the word “Hawaii” throughout the lyrics so that there was no denying it had nothing to do with Tonga? Sure, it was beautifully staged, but how would troops of Girl Scouts from Tonga and Hawaii have felt if they were in the audience and realized that their separate, unique cultures were indistinguishable to their U.S. counterparts? I’m certain there was no intent to be disrespectful, but choice of this song was careless. We must be mindful.
  
  
• Can we connect with our friends in Greece by watching a performance in which girls dressed as various Greek gods pushed and insulted each other onstage in mockery of a central part of Greek heritage (i.e., its mythology) and, not to mention, the history of civilization? We must be respectful.
  
  
• How does a bunch of teenagers throwing flour at each other to the tune of “That’s Amore” and trashing the stage, and then a girl dressed as a caricature of an Italian man saying with an exaggerated accent, “Whats-a goin’ on-a here?” show respect for Italians, each other, and school property? An adult (troop leader?) prefaced the performance by announcing that she took no accountability for it. We must be accountable.

I understand that young girls finding their way on the path toward developing good judgment may err on the side of irreverence, may try to skirt responsibility or slack off, may get so caught up in the moment that they lose focus, or may not have enough life experience to have more than a parochial and egocentric view of the world. But, I do not understand how so many adults could rationalize such performances under the umbrella of world friendship, nor do I understand the role of a troop leader if not to guide the girls to express their creativity in ways consistent with the Girl Scout law. I am certain that no one operated with ill intent; but I am very, very disappointed that so many people did not stop to consider the impact of their decisions, words, and actions on the formation of values of the little girls looking up to them.

Fortunately, there were some presentations that were very good (e.g., a wonderfully informative video on Korea in which each troop member had an equal part; an authentic dance from India that clearly showed considerable effort and cultural interest on the part of the troop) and others that were largely innocuous, having at least a small bit of relevance mixed in with what I'm sure were well-intentioned (albeit, sometimes questionable) attempts at fun and humor. It is these upon which I focused with my daughters as I tried to un-teach the disrespectful lessons taught by the other presentations. I also tried to explain the confusing truth that just because a number of adults (like troop leaders) and supposed role models (like the senior scouts) visibly represent an organization, quite a few of them may not understand or demonstrate that organization’s values.

Because teaching our children to appreciate diversity and be inclusive is a priority for my husband and me, I will have to seriously consider whether or not my girls will participate in such an event in the future. I will also have to consider the ethics of supporting an organization like the Girl Scouts that permits such lax interpretations of its professed values to be paraded in front of impressionable 5- and 6-year olds at their first cooperative Girl Scout events; a tougher choice since I think my daughters’ particular troop leaders do, in fact, set the right example.

I shared my opinions and concerns with the regional Girl Scout office in the hope that some action will be taken to ensure that future events and activities of the Girl Scouts in my area are, in fact, consistent with the values professed by the Girl Scout organization. I'm sharing it with you, here, to respectfully ask that if you are involved with Girl Scouts or other organizations where parents like me trust others to reinforce the values we attempt to teach our children at home, that you try to be mindful of the message you send through your decisions, words, and actions. Let's set the bar higher.

My hope was that my daughters would grow through their involvement with scouting. I’d like to think that’s still possible.

Update:

I received a very prompt and courteous email from the CEO of the regional office of the Girl Scouts. The tone and content were perfect: sincerely apologetic and focused on taking corrective action. The names of those taking accountability for developing corrective measures were listed. The CEO promised that I will be made aware of these proposed measures.

As long as they do what they say, I can't ask for more.

Update to the update:

As I feared, there was no follow through or follow up. Apparently, Girl Scouts is a lot of fine words with little underlying substance. I hope the interest that my girls have in it burns out quickly. I, for one, have wasted enough time with it.

Technorati tags: diversity, inclusion, Girl Scouts, World Friendship Day

Captain Obvious Rides Again

At the risk of being who my dear friend and colleague, Device Guy (Twitter ID = @DeviceGuy; follow him, he’s a genius), calls “Captain Obvious,” I just had to share this “aha!” moment with you.

I was catching up on one of my favorite blogs, Paul Smith’s Welcome to the Occupation. (It’s an HR blog, but I like it anyway ;-) ) In one of Paul’s posts, he linked to a video by workshop facilitator Joe Gerstandt entitled, Fresh Definition for Diversity. I’ve spent the past year or so learning a lot about diversity and inclusion. I thought I had developed a grasp of the fundamental definitions of these words. However, a significant learning for me came as a result of the particular way Joe Gerstandt phrased his definition. I’m sure I heard a similar definition before, but it just didn’t register in the same way for me as it did when I watched the video.

Joe Gerstandt simply says that "diversity means difference." Check. I knew that. But, then he talks about it as "a relational attribute.” Relational. My mental model for "differences" was more focused on the uniqueness of individuals — sets of qualities unique to each person (Joe Gerstandt might say I was muddling "diversity" with "talent") — rather than the simple distance between two points — the relational difference.

Relational differences are momentary, transient, and only real for those directly involved. They require the participation of two entities to exist. Aha!

This sheds a new light on the whole insider/outsider concept for me. Viewing differences as relational between any two individuals on a point-in-time basis, instead of relational between each individual and the norms of the insider group on a more enduring basis, puts the hierarchy off balance and renders it irrelevant. In my new mental model, all of us and none of us are insiders and outsiders. The differences only mean something important to each of us individually, helping us to make sense of our world through mental models, judgments, comparisons, decisions. Yet, in the overall universe they are equally weighted because they are shifting, transient, without benchmarks — in a sense, unreal.

When I say "unreal," I mean it in the sense that we can't rely on differences as absolutes or truths upon which we can build our value and reward systems (although, that's exactly what we've done, with the result that we have hierarchies largely based on privilege rather than merit). But, that isn't to say that differences are without value. Differences are the basis of potential energy, which can be transformed into kinetic energy to accomplish work, if only we can overcome inertia. Herein lies the power of inclusion. Think of how much we can accomplish if we harness the power of all of that potential energy existing between each uniquely talented individual and the uniquely talented individual beside him/her.

That’s the whole point, isn’t it? (“Aha!” or “Duh!” — never quite sure.)



Technorati tags: diversity, inclusion, Paul Smith, Joe Gerstandt

Bethany

In the early 1970s, I was a little girl growing up in a middle-class suburban neighborhood of Cleveland. None of the moms worked outside the home (except maybe to volunteer in the school cafeteria twice a week) and a summer day meant playing outside with the neighborhood kids from late morning until dusk with breaks only for meals. Everyone in my neighborhood was white, Christian, and spoke with a Midwestern accent.

Once or twice, a family with a slight European accent might move in, and after months of covert scrutiny, the neighborhood consensus would be something like, “They’re good neighbors. They have a well-tended yard. They seem very clean.” I’m pretty sure that—given the rampant “people like us” thinking of the time—the earth would have shifted off its axis if a non-white family had ever moved in. Those precious few European accents were about the limit of difference the neighborhood seemed to be able to sustain.

The social climate in Cleveland back then was characterized by intolerance. I still have lots of issues with the belief systems under which I was raised and which surrounded me in all aspects of my childhood universe. I knew that there were people whose skin was different than mine because my parents would make us cross the street and walk faster or lock the car doors whenever we saw them. I was probably a teenager before fully grasping that there were people who weren’t Christian. I had no knowledge of the world outside of the U.S. except that there was something called an Iron Curtain behind which the godless, evil communists in Russia lived; we prayed daily for their conversion (presumably—in my youthful understanding—to our correct way of thinking and worshipping).

But race, religion, or ethnic origin weren’t the only focal points of intolerance in my neighborhood. There were also whisperings about families who had—or were suspected of having—lives that didn’t quite resemble that of the Cleaver family. (The Brady Bunch and Partridge Family would have been considered way too progressive to live in my neighborhood, despite their squeaky-clean images by today’s standards.) There were meaningful looks exchanged by the adults about the young people in the neighborhood who were suspected of using drugs (despite no real evidence, I’m sure), became pregnant before marriage, got into trouble at school or with the police, looked too much like hippies (no shoes and long hair = lay-about drug addict), or in any other way didn’t fit the model of approved behavior.

Our parents never gave us information other than orders to stay away from so-and-so, as if whatever perceived imperfection—too shameful to talk about—might infect us. These were the days when children didn’t ask questions if not invited to do so, and we weren’t ever invited. And, being kids, we blindly accepted everything, sometimes drawing crazy conclusions from the snippets we overheard, while trying to emulate our parents’ behavior.

There was one particular neighborhood girl, a few years older than I was, who was different. The neighborhood line was that Bethany was “slow.” As a kid, I thought that had to do with speed in the literal sense. Bethany walked slowly, sort of dragging her legs from the hip with her toes pointing inward. She talked slowly, with a kind of slurred drawl. She stared a lot. She came uncomfortably close to you when she talked. She seemed to have an endless amount of time and no expectations on what she should be doing. Even as a very young girl, I found dealing with her to be trying.

She seemed to have a lot of freedom that the rest of us didn’t have. She never seemed to have to go home for lunch or dinner; she’d sit on one of our porches and eat something from her pocket. She was out on her bike hours earlier than the rest of us were allowed to go out in the morning and hours later than the rest of us were allowed to stay out in the evening. I always assumed that the hours she kept were allowed because she was older than I was.

Bethany never seemed to mind waiting. She would often wait on someone’s porch or in the yard until the child who lived there came out to play. This irked the neighborhood moms. After watching for a while through the kitchen window and realizing that Bethany had no intention of leaving, my mother would firmly tell her that she couldn’t hang out on our back porch while I ate lunch or all through the early morning until I was allowed out to play. Bethany would argue a bit (which was shocking in our neighborhood, where talking back to a parent was a capital offense), but would eventually say, “Okay,” pick up her bike, and cycle off to someone else’s porch. I suspect she just went from porch to porch, biding her time, day in and day out.

Bethany always seemed to have an extraordinary number of scrapes and bumps that she attributed to falls from her bike. I believed her—she always had her bike with her and I saw her wipe out on it now and then. She’d often ask for band-aids. I remember thinking it was strange that she never went home to get one like the rest of us would have done.

Bethany sometimes joined in our games, though she’d lose interest quickly and try to distract us. Sometimes she’d watch us play, which always felt kind of creepy. She had endless questions and often I couldn’t figure out what she meant. I tried to be polite, but my stomach clenched whenever I saw her coming. Sometimes my best friend and I just wanted to be left alone to our own secrets and games, so we’d pretend our mothers were calling us and hide inside until she went away. As it became harder to cope with Bethany's constant presence, we developed increasingly elaborate schemes to ditch her. Sometimes she’d catch on to what we were doing to exclude her and start berating us. One of our moms would overhear her angry shouts and tell her to go home. All of the moms would shake their heads and whisper.

I don’t know what ever happened to Bethany. Eventually, she stopped hanging around. Maybe her family moved away. I don’t remember. Nobody missed her when she’d gone. We forgot all about her—easily.

Looking back, I wish my parents had known how to teach me to be more compassionate toward Bethany. I wish they had explained why she behaved the way she did and helped me to develop appropriate skills for helping her to feel included while not feeling confused and irritated by her myself. Although I did try to play with her more than some of the children in my neighborhood, I wish I had tried to understand her rather than merely endure her. I wish an adult had tried to help her. I guess those were the times.

My kids recently told me about a child they know. Based on their description, I suspect the child has developmental challenges. Their irritation was apparent, and I heard echoes of my childhood in the intolerant things they told me they and the other children were starting to say and do. From my deeply buried memories came the recollection of Bethany.

We had a serious talk that day on the drive home. We’ve had a few follow-up discussions since. I hope I advised my children well. I hope they will be more inclusive than I was. I hope that the child they described won’t be easily forgotten the way I forgot Bethany...until now.


Technorati tags: tolerance, diversity, inclusion, parenting