The People We Haven't Met Yet

Over the past few weeks, I've found myself reflecting on a number of conversations that, at first glance, didn't seem particularly connected.

One conversation centered around speaking opportunities and how difficult it can be for aspiring speakers to identify conferences, understand submission processes, and find pathways into professional education. Another focused on belonging within our profession as a whole and the importance of creating environments where people feel welcomed and valued. While others revolved around leadership, engagement, and participation.

The more I sat with these conversations, the more I realized they were all pointing me toward the same underlying question: How do people ever become known if they are not first allowed to contribute?

This question has stayed with me because it exposes a tension that exists in many organizations, professions, and communities. We often say we want belonging and engagement. We say we want fresh ideas, new perspectives, and broader participation. While at the same time, there can be an unspoken expectation that people must first establish credibility, relationships, and status before their contributions are welcomed.

To be clear, I believe that expertise and experience matter. Standards matter. And I’m not saying that every idea should be accepted simply because it’s new. Just because someone has an idea doesn’t mean that idea is great and surely doesn’t mean that the person with the idea has the appropriate qualifications to realize whatever it is to full fruition. Healthy communities require standards.

However, I think there’s an important distinction between maintaining standards and creating barriers.

Standards help ensure quality while barriers determine who gets access to opportunity.

The challenge arises when barriers become so entrenched that they begin to limit participation before contribution has even had a chance to occur.

I have increasingly noticed that conversations about inclusion often focus on who is already participating rather than who is struggling to find the door. We discuss how to engage current members, current volunteers, current speakers, or current leaders, but we spend less time examining the experience of the person who wants to become, or doesn’t even know that the opportunity is available to them. For children growing up not seeing themselves in a profession, the lack of exposure could remove them from the conversation entirely.

To that end, I’ve been the person who's attended their first meeting, attempted to submit my first speaker proposal, and asked a question in a room where it appeared that everyone else knew each other. I’ve been the person in the room where I’ve had the opportunity to offer an idea despite not yet having whatever appropriate title others may have or a known reputation, or a long list of accomplishments attached to my name. Despite all of this I’ve continued to persist. Maybe because I’m stubborn as all hell. Maybe because I’m built that way? Maybe because I’ve grown up with enough privilege to feel safe enough to do so. But I know that I’m not the only one who’s experienced these things, and while I might not be the only one to experience them, I also know that not everyone is me, and some will retreat, some will not ask the question. I know this because there have been rooms where even I’ve stayed quiet. So, what does it feel like to be them, when I know what it feels like to be me?

These moments matter because they are often where belonging is either reinforced or quietly denied.

Belonging isn’t tested when we welcome people we already know. It’s tested when someone unfamiliar enters the conversation.

When we talk about belonging, I think we sometimes confuse it with acceptance. Acceptance is often granted after someone has demonstrated value. Belonging, however, is what creates the conditions that allow someone to demonstrate value in the first place.

Every expert was once unknown.

Every leader was once inexperienced.

Every speaker gave a first presentation.

Every volunteer attended a first meeting.

No one begins their journey with a reputation.

The people we recognize today were, at one point, the individuals trying to figure out where they fit and whether they were welcome.

This is why language matters.

People pay attention to the subtle signals that cultures send. They notice who is invited into conversations. They notice whose questions are welcomed and whose questions are dismissed. They notice whether curiosity is encouraged or whether participation feels conditional.

Most exclusion isn’t communicated through policy, but through culture and assumptions. It’s communicated through dismissiveness and skepticism that appears before curiosity. When the interaction intentionally, or unintentionally communicates “come back when you’ve proven yourself.” people learn whether they belong here or not. The irony, of course, is that if everyone had been held to that standard, many of the voices we value most would likely never have found their way into the room.

Just the other day I found myself asking a question where I was hoping to help some people and what started as a genuine question ended with me feeling like I maybe should never have had asked the question in the first place. In a group where I should have felt a sense of belonging and been welcomed to ask a question to help our peers, I was met with pushback and was ostracized for appearing to not have the “right credentials.” Behind closed doors, friends were graciously sticking up for me (thank you) when asked “who is this ‘Suzanne? and what does she think she knows about this?’ All because VTS doesn’t sit behind my name. Funny, since for the last four months I’ve been told time and time again that I’m “overqualified” for senior operations roles all because of my MBA, but, I digress…

Look, I don't believe the solution is lowering standards. I believe the solution is becoming more intentional about the pathways that lead to those standards. We should absolutely expect quality, preparation, and competence. And, at the same time, we should be asking ourselves whether people can realistically find the opportunities that allow them to grow into those expectations.

If we genuinely want new voices, we have to create conditions where those voices can emerge. If we genuinely want belonging, we have to make participation possible before recognition occurs. And if we genuinely want the future of our professions, organizations, and communities to be stronger than they are today, we need to spend as much time thinking about the people who have not yet become known as we do the people who already are.

Because belonging is not about what happens after someone earns their place.

It’s about whether they are given the opportunity to find it.

If we care about the future of our profession, truly, then we need to stop being the reason why the future of our profession doesn’t feel comfortable growing, learning, and speaking up. Our intent matters, but the perception of our words and how we make people feel matters just as much. I’d argue, probably more.