Inclusion Isn’t a Trend—It’s a Commitment by Shane Windmeyer

When I first began my journey as an advocate for LGBTQ+ equality, I believed inclusion was simply about being seen—being welcomed in the room, allowed to be who I am without shame or fear. Over time, and through decades of listening, leading, and learning, I’ve come to understand that inclusion is not just about being invited. It’s about being valued. It’s about knowing that your voice matters, that your differences are not only respected but also understood as essential to the success of the collective.

Inclusion in the workplace is not a checkbox. It’s not a line on a corporate report or a poster in the breakroom during Pride Month. It is, at its core, a daily commitment to justice, empathy, and cultural transformation.

The Difference Between Diversity and Inclusion

Let’s start with clarity: diversity is the presence of difference. Inclusion is what you do with it.

You can have the most diverse team in your industry—people of different racial backgrounds, gender identities, ages, sexual orientations, physical abilities—but if only a narrow group of individuals are heard, mentored, or promoted, that’s not inclusion. That’s optics.

Inclusion asks harder questions. It asks: Who gets to speak? Who feels safe? Who’s in the pipeline for leadership? Who’s always organizing the potluck, and who’s always making the final decisions?

True inclusion means we dismantle systems of gatekeeping. It requires that we actively examine how our workplaces reward sameness, and challenge the unspoken hierarchies that keep people on the margins.

The Power of Listening

Early in my career, I often felt the burden of having to speak up—not because I wanted to, but because silence would have meant erasure. I would walk into meetings where the culture wasn’t hostile, but it wasn’t exactly welcoming either. I’d feel the hesitation in the air—the quiet assumption that I didn’t quite belong.

I’ve since realized that inclusion begins with listening. Not performative listening, where someone nods politely and continues with business as usual. I mean the kind of listening that leads to change—the kind that acknowledges harm, asks deeper questions, and takes feedback seriously.

If you're a leader, listen more than you speak. If you're a team member, listen not just to reply, but to understand. Too often, marginalized employees are forced to repeat themselves, to relive trauma, or to educate others simply to be heard. We can and must do better.

Why Pronouns and Language Matter

Let me say it plainly: inclusive language isn’t political correctness—it’s respect.

The first time someone asked me what pronouns I used, I felt an unexpected warmth. It told me they cared about getting it right. It told me they saw me not as an assumption, but as a human being worthy of dignity.

Whether it’s using gender-neutral greetings, respecting someone’s name change, or challenging ableist language in meetings, words matter. They shape workplace culture. They shape belonging.

Don’t underestimate the power of these small acts. They are foundational to inclusion. And yes, you will make mistakes—we all do. But learning, correcting, and doing better is what this work is about.

The Hidden Cost of “Fitting In”

Let me share something that doesn’t always make it into HR reports: the emotional toll of code-switching, of editing oneself daily to fit into workplace norms that were never built with us in mind.

For LGBTQ+ professionals, especially queer people of color or trans individuals, the pressure to conform can be crushing. You think carefully about what to wear, how to speak, whether to mention your partner at lunch. You become an expert in risk assessment before you’ve even logged into your computer.

This kind of hypervigilance isn’t just exhausting—it’s demoralizing. It stifles creativity. It erodes trust. And it makes retention nearly impossible.

Workplaces must shift from expecting people to “fit in” to creating spaces where people can “belong.” Fitting in demands assimilation. Belonging celebrates authenticity.

Accountability Over Optics

We’ve all seen the performative side of corporate inclusion—rainbow logos in June, diversity training with no follow-up, statements of solidarity that ring hollow when real decisions are made.

Symbolism matters, but it’s not enough.

True inclusion means accountability. Who is on your board? Who gets promoted? What are you doing to close racial pay gaps? How accessible is your office space? When someone files a complaint, do they feel safe and supported, or silenced?

Inclusion must be baked into the structure—not sprinkled on top. That means measurable goals, transparent policies, and a willingness to admit when you’ve fallen short.

And when you do fall short—and you will—own it. Apologize. Learn. Make it right. That’s not failure; that’s leadership.

Intersectionality Is Not Optional

You cannot talk about inclusion without talking about race. Or gender. Or disability. Or class.

People are not one-dimensional. I am not just gay. I’m also white. I’m cisgender. I’m male. Those aspects come with privilege that I must always acknowledge and interrogate.

Too often, inclusion efforts focus on one identity at a time, creating silos that ignore the complex realities of people’s lives. A Black trans woman does not experience the workplace the same way as a white gay man. A disabled Latinx employee has entirely different barriers than an able-bodied Asian American team member.

If your inclusion work isn’t intersectional, it’s incomplete.

Creating a Culture of Belonging

So, how do we build a workplace where everyone belongs?

It starts with leadership modeling vulnerability. With hiring managers expanding their networks. With teammates calling each other in—not out—when something harmful is said or done.

It’s in the mentorship programs that prioritize underrepresented employees. In the paid internships for first-generation students. In the bathrooms that reflect the dignity of all gender identities. In the parental leave policies that include adoptive, nonbinary, and queer parents.

Belonging isn’t a policy. It’s a feeling. And people don’t forget how a workplace made them feel.

A Personal Call to Action

Inclusion is not someone else’s job. It’s yours. It’s mine. It belongs to all of us.

Whether you’re a CEO, an intern, a teacher, or a frontline worker, you have the power to shift culture. You have the ability to ask a colleague how they’re doing, to advocate for change, to say, “That’s not okay,” when something harmful happens.

I’ve spent my life trying to make spaces safer for those who come after me. And I still believe, even on the hard days, that change is possible.

Because I’ve seen it happen.

I’ve seen once-hostile environments turn into spaces of growth. I’ve seen conservative leaders learn the power of listening. I’ve seen closeted employees bloom when they are finally able to live openly.

The work isn’t easy. But it is worth it.

Let’s stop treating inclusion like a side dish—and start seeing it as the main course. Our workplaces, our communities, and our futures depend on it.

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Shane Windmeyer is a nationally recognized LGBTQ+ advocate, diversity educator, and inclusion strategist based in North Carolina.