Belonging Over Inclusion:

Emma walked into the bustling office for her first day at a new job. The company prided itself on its inclusive culture, with posters on the walls proclaiming "Diversity is our strength" and "We embrace everyone." Yet as Emma sat at her desk, surrounded by coworkers who smiled politely but rarely engaged her in conversation, she couldn’t shake the feeling of isolation.

Emma had recently moved from a small town in rural Kansas to New York City—a leap of faith driven by her dreams and a desire to build something meaningful. She wasn’t just the "new girl" in the office; she was also a woman of Indigenous heritage, a voice often unheard in spaces dominated by others. The company had done the expected—they'd celebrated her hire with a blog post about diversifying their workforce. But beyond the surface gestures, Emma felt like a checkbox in someone else’s diversity metrics, not a person whose contributions were valued.

The distinction between inclusion and belonging became clear to Emma during her first week. Being included meant being invited to the table, but belonging? That meant being embraced as a unique individual whose presence enriched the experience for everyone. And in this new environment, she didn’t feel that warmth.

One Friday, during a team meeting, the manager encouraged everyone to brainstorm ideas for an upcoming campaign. Emma hesitated but finally shared a concept inspired by her culture—a story about resilience and interconnectedness, values deeply rooted in her Indigenous heritage. The room went silent. The manager nodded perfunctorily, then quickly moved on to the next idea. Emma's heart sank. Her idea wasn’t just ignored—it felt erased.

Weeks passed, and Emma's loneliness deepened. It wasn’t just about being different; it was about feeling like she had to conform to fit in. She stopped mentioning her background, stopped offering ideas inspired by her heritage. She felt invisible.

Everything changed one afternoon when a senior colleague named Marcus stopped by her desk. Marcus had been at the company for years and had a reputation as a mentor. He asked her how she was adjusting, and for the first time, Emma felt seen. She hesitated but decided to be honest, explaining how she felt like her presence was acknowledged but not truly valued.

Marcus listened intently. "You’re right," he said finally. "We talk about inclusion, but we haven’t created spaces where people feel like they belong. That’s on us."

The next week, Marcus invited Emma to co-lead a workshop for the team. The workshop was called "From Inclusion to Belonging: Building Genuine Connections." Emma shared stories from her culture, explaining how Indigenous traditions teach the importance of community, where every individual has a role, and everyone is interdependent. It was a vulnerable moment, but as she spoke, she saw her coworkers leaning in, listening, and—most importantly—learning.

The workshop sparked change. Team members started asking Emma about her perspective, not as a token voice but as a colleague whose ideas added depth to their projects. The company began reevaluating its approach to diversity, moving beyond numbers and quotas to foster authentic relationships. They replaced their “Diversity is our strength” posters with a new message: "You belong here, just as you are."

Months later, Emma walked into the office, no longer feeling like an outsider. She had built bonds with her coworkers, not because they tolerated her differences but because they celebrated them. She had found her place—not just a seat at the table but a voice in the room.