WFED 884 Blog 8
Inclusion “Don’t talk about me without me” Marge Schiller.
This quote at 9:17 struck me. It immediately lifted me out of my chair and brought me to the conference room where I sat last week with a group of colleagues listening to a consultant speak to us and question us on what diversity means.
I was in a room with all of the people in my unit who exhibit a trait of diversity other than white-haired white males (skin color, sexual orientation, gender) the other day. Some people were there because they have an interest in the conversation (the only white male in a room of twenty). We were there because we’ve had a change in leadership. Our Sr. VP. is a woman. She’s been in the role for two months. We were there to begin to discuss the importance of diversity in the workplace, to share our stories, good and bad, and our hope for the future.
The facilitator asked us to take a moment and talk to the person next to us about the meaning of our name. It was so interesting! The man I spoke with has a Portuguese last name, but because his grandparents lived in a predominantly Irish area, they took on any and all Irish traits that they could. The basically tried to erase their Portuguese heritage because the Portuguese were treated worse than the Irish. He said that they celebrated St. Patrick’s day, ate brisket and potatoes – all of the stereotypical Irish things! I told him that the heritage of my name is Norwegian, that I was named after my great, great Aunt Sara. I told him that my great grandfather was a Norwegian sea captain who landed on the shore of New Brunswick. But that I identify more with my Irish side.
When did I say that I stopped and asked why I identify with my Irish side? And realized that maybe it’s because my last name growing up was Irish, and perhaps it was to stand out from all of the Johnsons, Swensons, Sorensons, etc. at my Minneapolis school where just about everyone is of Scandinavian descent. Or, maybe it’s because I have brown hair and blue eyes- again another trait that made me different from all of the blond hair, blue-eyed people I was surrounded by at school.
Now, there’s the issue of my maiden name – it’s German. If you see it written, Schumann, it’s german, if someone says it and doesn’t see it, it’s assumed to be Jewish. So, I never know what bucket someone is going to put me in these days – German, Jewish, Midwest…
I’ve never given any thought to my name and how much people rely on it to put me in a bucket. I’m guilty of the same thing. But it wasn’t until we had that conversation at work, that I realized how quickly we all rush to assumptions. But it’s through the unraveling of these assumptions that fascinating stories unfold, stories of similar experiences. For example, people assume that he’s Irish – in fact, it’s what his grandparents, who were Portuguese in an Irish Boston neighborhood wanted people to think. So they molded their original last name into something more Irish. They attended the Irish Catholic Church and St. Patrick’s Day was their most celebrated holiday.
But, over the years the neighborhood has changed around his parents. It has become a predominantly Portuguese neighborhood.
For example – I was speaking with someone who’s last name is Morran. He has blue eyes and brown hair. I
It was a fascinating discovery and unraveling of the titles and labels that we so easily and freely give out so that it’s easier for us (those giving the titles) to lump people together.
The conversation continued on about the ways in which the organization has made us feel like outsiders. Whether it’s through the policies, dress code, exclusion from the decision-making process, which at the end of the day will have a direct impact on us as individuals. This is what brings me back to the Marge Schiller quote, “don’t talk about me without me”. So many of the decisions made are done without thought to the people they affect.
For example, after my daughter was born, my boss said about his boss, “he doesn’t like babies and dogs so don’t bring them to the office.” I stopped talking about my daughter for five years. I didn’t have photos of her at my desk, I didn’t tell anyone why I was always busy at 10 am and 2 pm when I returned from maternity leave (I was pumping). It wasn’t until my daughter was five that I finally put an image of her on my screen saver. And no one said anything. Then I brought in a few more images to put on my desk, again, nothing. Then I started to tell stories about her and I slowly wove her into my identity.
When I started to share that part of my identity, of being a mom, I felt that I performed my job better, that I smiled more often, that finally, I felt closer to who I am.
“Don’t talk about me without me”