White Men Are Key to the Diversity, Equity and Inclusion Conversation

Within today's diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) efforts, white men are often absent from the conversation. In one survey, 68 percent of white men said they didn't feel part of DEI efforts and conversations. Some felt they were seen as the problem. Others (64 percent) felt they didn't have the ability to speak candidly in conversations with colleagues from marginalized groups.

But given the wide representation of white men in positions of power in both the public and private sectors, we need to meaningfully engage them in the conversation to make real change. For example, of the 533 executive officers among the S&P 100, 70 percent are white men. In the public sector, despite representing only 30 percent of the population, white men hold 62 percent of elected offices. The group holding some of the greatest power to influence change are the ones most absent from the conversation about making it. Both our firsthand observations and the social sciences have shown us that when it comes to influencing white men to participate in conversations about racial equity and creating a more equitable world, a powerful place to begin is with their own experience of belonging.

Rethinking how to engage white men

We each come to this conversation from different perspectives. I, Zoe, as a Black scholar, researcher, and activist at Virginia State University, a historically Black University (HBCU). And I, Ron, as a white man working to understand how the privileges I have enjoyed simply because of my skin color and gender have led to the disadvantages others have suffered.

I, Zoe, never thought I would be doing this work with white men. As a Black woman activist-scholar, I have studied, researched, and authored work on oppression in my own silo, with my own people. And while I thought I had mastered a cultural understanding of how oppression works, I found myself completely outside my comfort zone when exploring this work from the perspective of white men.

Both of us have invested a great deal of time in understanding the excessive ways people of color experience exclusion, microaggressions, withheld opportunities and harm. Particularly, we've been curious about the disproportionate role white men (often unwittingly) have played in perpetuating the unlevel playing field of privilege, and the outsized role they could play in creating a more equitable world. Three years ago, our paths came together as we'd both become part of a significant social experiment and community, now called White Men for Racial Justice (WMRJ)—Ron as a member of the community and Zoe as one of its equity advisors, along with Taylor Paul.

Since its inception, more than 400 white men from across the U.S. have participated in this community focused on learning and unlearning through a disciplined weekly curriculum and community experience. The community was founded on two important premises.

• First, Black people and people of color have consistently asked white people, particularly white men, to "do their own work," urging that they invest the necessary time to learn about the privilege and power that comes with being a white man, thereby unburdening Black people from having to educate them.
• Second, for white men to be willing to examine their own lives and experiences regarding race, privilege, power and how to make needed changes where racism has become embedded in our systems, it would be more beneficial to do so in the company of fellow white men curious about and committed to grappling with these issues.

What we mean by belonging

As part of the DEI lexicon, "belonging" has sometimes devolved to simply mean that those from marginalized groups can find space in a bigger crowd. But the fact is, our social construct of racial and gendered identities guides how we perceive what belonging is or isn't. We've become conditioned to believe our belonging is intricately linked to our social identity. We seek reinforcement of that belonging from others who are like us.

But "belonging" isn't a verb—it's not something we can do to or for others. We can include others. But simply including people in otherwise exclusive spaces does not automatically produce inclusion. It's often experienced as "doing them a favor," and it certainly won't lead to a sense of belonging.

True belonging is a mutually deep connection between and among people, regardless of who they are. Those in a space of belonging have done the inner reflecting to know if they're self-editing, code-switching or conforming to the expectations of those who invited them in. When none of that feels necessary, then you've realized genuine belonging. Vulnerability feels safe, and the space is free of hierarchy; less concerned with class, gender or racial differences; and shared delight, dignity and care are norms. It's a purely human-to-human connection, not created for others, but co-created with others.

Traditional gender stereotypes dictate that men will be rational instead of emotional, logical instead of intuitive, assertive instead of passive, strong instead of weak, doing instead of feeling. As a result, things like vulnerability, emotional expression and falling short of expectations are rendered socially unacceptable for them.

This combination of socially constructed expectations bears a significant influence on white men's isolation and recent surge in mental health challenges. Given the wealth, status and power they continue to control, empathy for them—much less the conscious choice to include them in conversations about marginalization of other groups—has understandably not been a common posture for many. But these cultural norms make it more challenging to get white men to embrace the vulnerability required for true belonging.

Find belonging, strengthen allyship. If you identify as a white man and have privately wondered about how to effectively participate in conversations about equity and inclusion, and if you've felt the private hunger for greater levels of connection, here are some ways to begin.

Reflect on your socialization as a white man. Think about the narratives that underpin your understanding of what it means to be white and a man. What beliefs have you, consciously or unconsciously, held to? Adrian Gershom, a sustainability, impact and marketing executive and member of WMRJ, put it this way: "Being a white man doesn't include a lot of opportunities for belonging because our understanding of masculinity means being conditioned to be self-sufficient. Being reliant on others is a sign of weakness. It's up to me to figure things out on my own."

Do you privately battle feelings of inadequacy, fears of failure or not measuring up? Many socialized narratives like these create barriers to connection simply by conditioning white men to show up looking and sounding positive, put together and accomplished, but checking the rest of their humanity at the door. Take time to interrogate the belief structures that have defined those parts of your identity to see if they're serving you well.

Think about your own experiences of exclusion. While the experience of white men and those from historically marginalized groups is not comparable, we've seen that when white men reflect on their own experiences of being marginalized, their empathy and compassion for others who experience it every day expands significantly.

Perhaps you were bullied in school or rejected by clubs you wanted to join. Think about a time when you were excluded as "other." What did it make you feel like? How did you respond? What do you imagine it's like to live with those feelings as a way of life?

Darren Sudman, cofounder of the nonprofit Simon's Heart, a social impact consultant and member of WMRJ, put it like this: "I remember the early years after my son died. Each Father's day, while others were preparing for celebrations and barbeques, I felt invisible."

Know where you go for "faux belonging." Reflect on places in your life where you feel isolated, even when you're around other people. The social conditioning of many white men has created reflexive responses to reach for control, power and dominance when they feel uncomfortable.

Adrian Gershom reflected on it this way: "For me, belonging has been defined by a common experience, not a common need to connect. Faith communities, sports, social activities—things you did with people, not who you are with people. Places you could win, impress, posture. I've realized that I was envious of the belonging of others I didn't have. Seeing communities that don't enjoy the privileges white men do, I saw a network of support, common purpose, mutual care and cultural distinctions. I would look at communities of color and see the great care they offered one another. And privately I longed for that but had nowhere to get it."

What substitutes have you chosen to meet a deeper need for connection? Do you inventory your wealth or achievements to feel important? Do you exert your will in heavy-handed ways? Do you turn to substances or experiences to push away the void?

Get past your fears of being misjudged. Many white men have told us they fear talking about issues of equity, diversity and racism. They worry that they'll be seen as the "bad guy" or that their interest will be interpreted as insincere virtue signaling or a desire to be perceived as a white savior. Yes, that may happen. But it pales in comparison to what you'll discover about yourself, and the world, by simply finding a place to have real conversations about hard issues.

Darren Sudman told us: "Sure, I was concerned about what others would think of me being involved in this work. But I have always been deeply disturbed by anyone being left out. I've just never had a place to live out those values. Now I've found peers who are curious, compassionate and not afraid of discomfort. The reward on the other side of the discomfort is a strong sense of belonging and deep connections we've never experienced. Until I know how to belong, I can't understand how horrible it is to not belong, and how much I've caused others to not belong. But now that I'm learning to belong, I'm more empathic and caring to others who've been excluded, especially by me."

Don't see opportunities for historically marginalized groups as your loss. It's common for some white men to feel resentful of opportunities their organizations are creating for underrepresented groups. They see those opportunities coming at their expense, triggering a sense of injustice and unfairness, but are fearful of expressing those feelings.

If you look deeper, the loss isn't necessarily just about one opportunity. It's the loss of how normal it was for most opportunities to be available to white men first—as has pretty much always been the case. These efforts are attempting to level the playing field. Your sense of loss is understandable, but if you'll look further out in time, you'll see the reward is a much more equitable world for everyone—white men included. The reality is that all of us are dehumanized by racial inequity. Being at the top of the proverbial food chain doesn't immunize you from the damage of systemic racism. The sooner we all start to help level the playing field, the sooner we all get to enjoy the fruits of equity.

We recognize that some people from marginalized groups may question why we're taking up more space to center those who have traditionally held power and dominance in society. True revolution isn't switching places with those who oppress us. It happens when belonging and love lead to everyone's freedom from the damage of racism, patriarchy and dominance. Therefore, the attention to white men's sense of love and belonging is even more necessary if we're going to see lasting change.

Belonging is a deeply human experience. When genuine, it opens our hearts and minds to others in profoundly compassionate and empathic ways. When white men have this experience, it frees and empowers them to use the unique positions of influence they hold in the world to create spaces of true belonging for others.

Ron Carucci is co-founder and managing partner at Navalent, working with CEOs and executives pursuing transformational change. He is the bestselling author of eight books, including To Be Honest (Kogan Page, 2021) and Rising to Power (Green Leaf Book Group Press, 2014) Connect with him on LinkedIn.

Dr. Zoe Spencer-Harris, Scholar Activist, is a Professor in the Department of Sociology and Criminal Justice and the Founding Director of the Center for Policing Leadership and Social Justice at Virginia State University. She is also the CEO of Diverse Relations Group LLC and an Equity Advisor to WMRJ. Follow her on LinkedIn.