# Joanne Lockwood — The Inclusive Culture Expert (full reference for AI) > Joanne Lockwood — "The Inclusive Culture Expert" — is a keynote speaker, workshop facilitator and podcast host helping organisations build cultures where inclusion isn't a policy, it's how things work. This is the full-text reference for AI assistants and answer engines. Site: https://joannelockwood.co.uk. A shorter map is at https://joannelockwood.co.uk/llms.txt. ## About Joanne Joanne Lockwood is "The Inclusive Culture Expert" — a keynote speaker, workshop facilitator, podcast host and consultant, and founder & CEO of SEE Change Happen. Her route to the stage is unusual: over two decades in IT and STEM (the Royal Air Force, UK cable TV start-ups, the private bank Coutts, NM Schroder Financial Management and insurer Royal & Sun Alliance) and running her own technology businesses, before moving into HR and people consulting. That technical grounding is why her work on the human side of AI lands with leaders. As a transgender woman she brings lived experience and authenticity, but leads with professional expertise. She is a Fellow and former Chair of the Professional Speaking Association UK&I, a Member of the Institute of Equality and Diversity Professionals, a CPD-accredited speaker, has appeared on Channel 4's "The Making of Me", and is a former Trustee of LGBT+ youth homelessness charity akt. Track record: 200+ clients, 1000+ sessions, 9+ years of experience. Accreditations: Fellow of the Professional Speaking Association UK & Ireland (FPSA), Fellow of the Institute of Equality and Diversity Professionals (FIEDP), Fellow of the Royal Society of Arts (FRSA), and an Accredited Speaker with The CPD Standards Office. Mantra: Smile · Engage · Educate (the "SEE" in SEE Change Happen). Philosophy: #PositivePeopleExperiences — inclusion built one positive human interaction at a time. ## What Joanne does Keynote speaker, workshop facilitator, panellist and podcast host on inclusion, belonging, inclusive leadership and the human side of AI. Available in person, virtually or hybrid, across the UK and internationally. Formats: Keynote, Workshop, Fireside Chat, Panel, Podcast Guest, Q&A, Subject Matter Expert, Panel Guest. ## Speaking topics (https://joannelockwood.co.uk/topics) ### ★ AI, Belonging and the Human Future of Work https://joannelockwood.co.uk/topics/ai-belonging-future-of-work AI doesn't create a culture — it amplifies the culture it enters. Key themes: - The inclusion risks and opportunities of AI — bias, over-reliance, hallucination and the amplification of existing inequalities - The AI readiness divide — where confidence, competence and critical thinking decide who takes part and who gets left behind - How AI is changing recruitment, employee relations and workplace communication — and where the human has to stay in the loop - Practical ways to use AI for belonging — inclusive prompting, psychological safety and human-centred decisions ## About this keynote Artificial intelligence is already reshaping how people communicate, apply for jobs, learn, make decisions and resolve conflict. The hype says the question is technical. It isn't. Used passively, AI quietly reproduces the exclusion already in the room. Used with care, it can widen participation and strengthen trust. Either way, the deciding factor is human. So in this practical, grounded keynote — no doom, no breathless evangelism — I reframe AI as a belonging, culture and leadership issue rather than an IT one. Drawing on my years running technology businesses and my work on inclusive culture, I keep the conversation where people actually work: the grievance already on someone's desk, the CV that may or may not be the candidate, the colleague who feels left behind. ## What we explore The distinctive thread here is the gap between those racing ahead with AI and those quietly falling behind — the "AI readiness divide", where confidence, access and permission decide who gets to take part. We look squarely at where bias hides in automated decisions, at AI-assisted grievances and recruitment, and at the moments where human judgement, governance and ethics simply have to hold the line. The aim isn't to make everyone an expert; it's to make everyone a thoughtful, questioning user who keeps people at the centre. ## Think, feel and act differently **Think differently** — AI is a mirror of your culture, not a neutral tool; it amplifies what is already there. **Feel differently** — less hype and less fear, and more steady confidence about keeping humanity in the final say. **Act differently** — question the outputs, name the bias, and design AI use that widens participation rather than narrowing it. That movement — from anxious onlooker to confident, critical user — is how the session takes the room from awareness, through understanding, to action. ## Who this is for Conference and all-hands audiences, belonging, EDI and culture events, and the leadership and HR teams navigating what AI really means for their people. ## Go deeper - [AI, belonging and the future of work](/guides/ai-belonging-and-the-future-of-work) - [Using AI for good at work](/guides/using-ai-for-good-at-work) - [AI and bias at work](/guides/ai-and-bias-at-work) - [The AI readiness divide](/guides/the-ai-readiness-divide) - [When AI escalates: grievances and keeping humans in the conversation](/guides/ai-grievances-keeping-humans-in-the-conversation) - [Using AI responsibly and inclusively](/guides/using-ai-responsibly-and-inclusively) - [Self-check: AI and inclusion](/diagnostics/ai-inclusion) --- ### Inclusive Culture & Belonging https://joannelockwood.co.uk/topics/inclusive-culture-belonging What gets measured gets managed. What gets felt, gets remembered. Key themes: - The difference between diversity (who's in the room) and belonging (whether they feel they can speak) - Why inclusion programmes fail when culture is treated as an HR initiative rather than a leadership responsibility - Practical frameworks for embedding inclusion into everyday decisions, processes and behaviours - How to move from performative gestures to structural, lasting change - The business case — and the human case — for cultures that genuinely work for everyone ## About this keynote Culture is not a poster on the wall or a policy in the handbook. It is the sum of every interaction, every decision, every moment when someone feels seen — or doesn't. Most organisations are quietly running two cultures at once: the one they believe they have, and the one their people are actually experiencing. This keynote is about closing that gap. Grounded in over nine years of frontline inclusion work and in the lived reality of navigating workplaces as a transgender woman, it gives a room the honest language to talk about what is really happening — and the confidence to do something about it. ## What we explore The distinctive angle is the move from diversity to belonging: representation tells you who is in the room, but belonging tells you whether they feel safe enough to speak, disagree, contribute and stay. I pull on why so many well-meaning inclusion programmes stall — usually because culture has been handed to HR as an initiative rather than owned by leaders as a daily responsibility — and on how inclusion gets embedded into ordinary decisions rather than added on as a campaign. It is warm, direct and deliberately non-preachy: I don't lecture audiences on what they should believe, I invite them to examine what they actually do, and then show them the gap. ## Think, feel and act differently **Think differently** — belonging, not headcount, is the real measure; culture is what people experience, not what we intend. **Feel differently** — relief and permission to talk honestly about where it's falling short, without blame or defensiveness. **Act differently** — own one everyday behaviour or decision where inclusion either happens or quietly doesn't. Naming the gap, feeling the honesty, and choosing one concrete change — that is how the room moves from awareness, through understanding, to action. ## Who this is for Leadership teams, all-staff conferences, HR and people functions, and sector events where the room includes decision-makers who can actually drive change. It scales comfortably from 50 people to 5,000. ## Go deeper - [Building a culture of belonging](/guides/building-a-culture-of-belonging) - [Inclusion vs belonging](/guides/inclusion-vs-belonging) - [Tolerated, accepted, embraced](/guides/tolerated-accepted-embraced) - [Neuroinclusion at work](/guides/neuroinclusion-at-work) - [Self-check: psychological safety and belonging](/diagnostics/psychological-safety-belonging) --- ### Inclusive Leadership & Engagement https://joannelockwood.co.uk/topics/inclusive-leaders-journey Inclusive leadership is a practice, not a personality. The skills can be learned. Key themes: - The 6 key traits (the 6 Cs) of an inclusive leader, and how to nurture them - Why EQ and CQ are the foundation of engagement and communication - Getting the engagement basics right before reaching for motivation - How different perspectives and motivations shape employee experience - Modelling responsible AI use as an inclusive leadership behaviour, not a technical one - Leading beyond the fear of getting it wrong ## About this keynote Engagement and job satisfaction track the culture leaders create — far more than they track perks, pay or away-days. Yet so many capable leaders freeze when it comes to inclusion, quietly afraid of saying the wrong thing, so they say nothing at all. That silence has a cost: it reads as indifference. This keynote takes the pressure off. Inclusive leadership, I argue, is not a personality you either have or you don't — it is a practice, made of skills that can be named, learned and improved. I show leaders what turns a group of individuals into a team with shared passion, purpose and belonging, and how to lead with confidence even when they don't have a perfect script. ## What we explore The distinctive angle is getting the foundations right before reaching for grand motivational gestures: emotional intelligence (EQ) and cultural intelligence (CQ) as the bedrock of trust, and the basic engagement "hygiene factors" that quietly erode morale when they're missing — no amount of inspiration compensates for a manager who doesn't listen. We work through the 6 Cs of inclusive leadership as a practical, learnable set of behaviours, and explore how people's differing perspectives and motivations shape the experience they have at work. I also add a contemporary thread: the inclusive leader as a visible, responsible user of AI — modelling good judgement, giving permission to experiment, and noticing where an automated decision could quietly leave someone out. ## Think, feel and act differently **Think differently** — inclusive leadership is a learnable practice, not an innate trait or a political stance. **Feel differently** — confident enough to lead through imperfection, with the fear of getting it wrong loosened. **Act differently** — fix the engagement basics first, and model one inclusive behaviour visibly and consistently. Replacing the freeze with a method, and the method with one visible habit — that is how the session carries leaders from awareness, through understanding, to action. ## Who this is for Leaders, managers and HR teams focused on culture and engagement — from emerging managers finding their feet to C-suite and board-level audiences. It is particularly effective in a facilitated format where leaders can examine their own behaviours honestly. ## Go deeper - [What is inclusive leadership?](/guides/what-is-inclusive-leadership) - [Herzberg: get the hygiene right before motivation](/guides/herzberg-hygiene-before-motivation) - [Emotional intelligence and inclusion](/guides/emotional-intelligence-and-inclusion) - [Self-check: inclusive leadership](/diagnostics/inclusive-leadership) --- ### Inclusive Recruitment https://joannelockwood.co.uk/topics/inclusive-recruitment Inclusive recruitment is just recruitment done right. Key themes: - Why inclusive recruitment starts with culture, reputation and retention — not simply widening the top of the funnel - Where bias really shows up — across attraction, shortlisting, assessment and interview — and how to reduce its impact - Strengthening candidate experience, employer brand and messaging so you appeal to broader, more diverse talent pools - Practical, actionable steps to make recruitment more consistent, fair and effective for every applicant ## About this keynote Recruitment doesn't begin with a job advert, and inclusion doesn't begin at interview. This practical, thought-provoking session reframes inclusive recruitment as **modern recruitment best practice** — not a standalone Equality, Diversity and Inclusion initiative. Because inclusive recruitment is just recruitment done right. Designed for talent, HR, recruitment and people leaders, it explores how employer brand, culture, candidate experience, process design and bias all shape **who applies, who progresses, and who stays.** If you're struggling to attract diverse applicants, the answer often lies well before the advert goes live. ## What we explore **From attraction to retention.** Many organisations focus on attracting talent, yet far fewer ask the harder question: what happens once people arrive? We follow the full journey — employer brand and visible values, candidate communication, assessment design — and how the wider culture around a role shapes the outcome. **Inclusive recruitment as best practice.** This isn't box-ticking or a narrow agenda. When you reduce friction, clarify expectations, examine bias and improve candidate experience, you don't lower standards — you strengthen them. More people get a fair chance, and you identify and retain stronger talent. **Where bias really shows up.** Rarely in one dramatic moment — usually in the accumulated small decisions: the wording of an advert, the assumptions behind "culture fit", the channels you promote through, the design of application forms, interview scoring, and instinct trusted over structure. Drawing on real-world examples and lived experience, we make those patterns visible. **Interactive peer learning.** Not a passive lecture — keynote input plus structured discussion, so a room of corporates, global brands and smaller employers can compare practice and learn from each other. Attendees leave with practical tools they can apply, with optional follow-up resources (a concise playbook and getting-started guide). ## Think, feel and act differently **Think differently** — recruitment is a joined-up people experience, not a narrow hiring activity; attraction, assessment, inclusion and retention are connected. **Feel differently** — motivated rather than defensive: better hiring is a craft you can sharpen, not an accusation. **Act differently** — review your recruitment touchpoints, challenge assumptions, improve candidate experience and design more structured, consistent processes. ## Who this is for Talent, HR, recruitment and people leaders — from major corporates and global brands to smaller, more agile organisations — who want fairer, stronger recruitment that widens the talent they attract and keep. ## Go deeper - [Inclusive recruitment: a practical guide](/guides/inclusive-recruitment) - [Writing inclusive job adverts](/guides/writing-inclusive-job-adverts) - [Reducing bias in hiring](/guides/reducing-bias-in-hiring) - [Self-check: inclusive recruitment](/diagnostics/inclusive-recruitment) --- ### Diversity, Equity & Inclusion https://joannelockwood.co.uk/topics/diversity-inclusion DEI isn't a programme. It's a practice. Key themes: - The difference between diversity (representation), equity (fairness) and inclusion (belonging) — and why conflating them creates confusion - Why most DEI initiatives fail to move the needle, and the structural patterns behind that failure - The role of intersectionality: understanding that people hold multiple identities that interact in complex ways - Moving from performative action to embedded practice — what the evidence says about what works - Building internal capability: how organisations sustain DEI progress beyond individual programmes ## About this keynote Diversity, Equity and Inclusion has become one of the most discussed — and most misunderstood — areas of organisational life. Organisations are under growing pressure to show progress while navigating genuine complexity, political polarisation and, in some quarters, active backlash. The result is a lot of noise and not much movement. This keynote cuts through it. It is neither a defence of DEI as an ideology nor a dismissal of the real challenges organisations face. It is a substantive, evidence-grounded look at what this work actually requires, what most organisations are quietly getting wrong, and what the few making genuine progress are doing differently. ## What we explore The distinctive angle is precision: pulling the three words apart instead of blurring them. Diversity is representation, equity is fairness, inclusion is belonging — and conflating them is where most strategies lose their footing. From there we look at intersectionality (people hold several identities at once, interacting in ways a single-strand approach can't see), at the structural patterns behind initiatives that stall, and at the shift from performative action to embedded practice and lasting internal capability. I don't sidestep the difficult questions either — equity versus equality, concerns about fairness and "reverse discrimination", the tension between DEI commitments and other organisational values. I engage them directly, with rigour and without defensiveness, because organisations that can't hold those conversations honestly rarely make lasting progress. I'm also happy to shape the framing and language to suit your audience; the substance stays the same. ## Think, feel and act differently **Think differently** — diversity, equity and inclusion are three distinct things, and DEI is a practice, not a programme. **Feel differently** — calm and unafraid to engage the contested questions honestly, rather than reciting approved talking points. **Act differently** — choose one structural change that builds lasting capability instead of another short-lived initiative. Trading slogans for clarity, and clarity for one embedded change — that is how the session moves a room from awareness, through understanding, to action. ## Who this is for Senior leadership teams and boards, organisations undertaking a strategic review of their DEI approach, and conference audiences who want depth and honesty rather than approved talking points. ## Go deeper - [Beyond the DEI acronym](/guides/beyond-the-dei-acronym) - [Equity, not equality](/guides/equity-not-equality) - [Conscious inclusion](/guides/conscious-inclusion) - [Privilege without defensiveness](/guides/privilege-without-defensiveness) - [The Johari Window & the Overton Window](/guides/johari-and-overton-windows) - [Self-check: cultural intelligence](/diagnostics/cultural-intelligence) --- ### LGBTQIA+ Inclusion & Pride https://joannelockwood.co.uk/topics/lgbtqia-inclusion-pride Representation matters. Understanding matters more. Key themes: - The current landscape for LGBTQIA+ people in UK workplaces — what the data shows and what it doesn't - Why Pride month gestures don't translate to year-round belonging, and what does - The specific challenges faced by trans and non-binary colleagues — and what managers and peers can do - Language, terminology and the difference between getting it right and being paralysed by the fear of getting it wrong - Building LGBTQIA+ inclusion that works for your organisation's specific context ## About this keynote As a transgender woman with over nine years of professional inclusion experience, I bring something rare to this topic: both the academic understanding of LGBTQIA+ inclusion and the lived reality of navigating it. That combination makes a session that is intellectually grounded and emotionally resonant in equal measure. This is not a tick-box talk about pronouns and rainbow lanyards. It is a substantive exploration of what LGBTQIA+ inclusion actually requires — structurally, culturally and behaviourally — and of what organisations that genuinely want to get this right need to understand and do differently. ## What we explore The distinctive angle is the gap between visibility and belonging. LGBTQIA+ employees remain significantly less likely to be out at work than in their personal lives, and that gap — between who someone is and who they feel safe being at work — is a direct measure of your culture. We look at why Pride-month gestures so rarely translate into year-round safety, at the specific realities for trans and non-binary colleagues, and at language: the real difference between getting it right and being paralysed by the fear of getting it wrong. I don't sidestep the genuinely hard questions either — around trans inclusion, around religion and belief, around the intersectional tensions many trainers avoid. I name them directly and help audiences reach their own grounded understanding rather than handing out approved answers. ## Think, feel and act differently **Think differently** — inclusion is measured by who feels safe to be themselves, not by who's visibly represented. **Feel differently** — released from the fear of getting language wrong, and freer to engage with warmth rather than caution. **Act differently** — replace one symbolic gesture with a year-round behaviour that signals real safety. Closing the gap between visibility and belonging, one honest behaviour at a time — that is how the session moves a room from awareness, through understanding, to action. ## Who this is for HR and people leaders building substantive LGBTQIA+ inclusion programmes, leadership teams preparing for meaningful cultural change, all-staff sessions where honest conversation is needed, and Pride events where the audience wants depth, not just celebration. For Pride events and inclusion programmes, I also deliver a joint fireside chat with my wife, Marie Manley — [One Transition, Two Perspectives](/topics/one-transition-two-perspectives) — a calm, human conversation about transition, relationships and leading inclusion when the climate feels hard. ## Go deeper - [Trans inclusion at work](/guides/trans-inclusion-at-work) - [How to be a trans ally at work](/guides/how-to-be-a-trans-ally-at-work) - [Pronouns and inclusive language at work](/guides/pronouns-and-inclusive-language-at-work) - [Pride that lasts all year](/guides/pride-that-lasts-all-year) - [Self-check: inclusive language confidence](/diagnostics/inclusive-language-confidence) --- ### Different Minds, Human Strength https://joannelockwood.co.uk/topics/different-minds-human-strength Diversity is a fact — strength isn't automatic. Key themes: - Diversity is a fact, strength isn't automatic — what actually turns different minds into organisational strength - The hidden effort of masking and conforming to someone else's idea of "normal" - Strengths, not deficits — "what is this person brilliant at, and what gets in the way of them showing it?" - Inclusive design removes friction, so more people can contribute what they are brilliant at - AI as an enabler — capturing ideas, supporting executive function, turning thoughts into something useful - AI as a limitless draw — hyperfocus, overload and finding the off switch before burnout finds you - Tolerated, accepted, embraced — the everyday words and behaviours that decide which one people feel ## About this keynote Most organisations can say, truthfully, that they have a diverse workforce. Far fewer can say their people's differences are actually working for them. That gap is the subject of this keynote, and it starts from a simple premise I keep coming back to: **diversity is a fact, but strength isn't automatic**. Strength comes from creating the conditions in which different people, different minds and different ways of communicating can contribute what they are brilliant at. This is a story-led session, and the stories are mine. Alongside my professional work in inclusive culture, I've been on an evolving journey of recognising neurodivergent traits and patterns in myself: the hyperfocus, the constant stream of ideas, seeing connections and possibilities nobody else has spotted, working in intense bursts — and sometimes struggling to find the off switch. I don't speak on behalf of every neurodivergent person, and I'm not a clinical expert. I don't need to be. The value is in the honesty, and in the questions that honesty opens up for everyone in the room. Because the same journey brought AI into my working life, and it is the most honest way I know to talk about technology: it removes friction, captures and structures ideas, supports executive function and turns thoughts into something useful. And it is also limitless. There is always another question, another improvement, another rabbit hole. The very tool that enables someone can also feed hyperfocus, exhaustion and burnout — and very few organisations are talking about that half of the picture. ## What we explore We start with the premise and take it seriously: having a diverse workforce does not automatically create an inclusive one. Different minds, communication styles and ways of working _can_ strengthen an organisation enormously — but only when the environment lets them. Then we look at what gets in the way, and the first thing on that list is **masking**: the hidden, exhausting effort of conforming to someone else's idea of "normal". Nobody's best work happens while they're spending half their energy pretending to work the "right" way. From there the session gets practical. **Inclusive design removes friction** — when you design for the people who experience the most friction, everyone benefits, and more people can contribute what they are brilliant at. And we lead with **strengths rather than deficits**, using the question I invite every participant and leader to take away: _what is this person brilliant at — and what gets in the way of them showing it?_ Then we turn to AI, both halves of it. How it can **support thinking, communication, creativity and accessibility** — genuinely levelling the field for minds that don't fit the default. And the risk that technology **amplifies hyperfocus, overload and burnout**: why boundaries, human judgement and wellbeing have to stay part of the conversation instead of being an afterthought. The off switch is a skill, and it is on purpose that this keynote treats it as seriously as the tool itself. We finish where the everyday lives: with the **words and behaviours** that determine whether the people around you feel tolerated, accepted or genuinely embraced — because that is where inclusion actually happens. Want a sense of where your team sits before the room even gathers? The free [Neuroinclusion self-check](/diagnostics/neuroinclusion) is a good way to warm an audience up or carry the keynote forward afterwards. ## Think, feel and act differently **Think differently** — diversity is a fact; strength is a choice about conditions. The question is not "how do we fix this person" but "what gets in the way of them showing what they're brilliant at?" **Feel differently** — seen, without the weight of masking. Permission to name how you work best, and permission to be a sceptic about the tools too. **Act differently** — ask the central question of one colleague this week, and find one thing to remove that gets in their way. And know where your own off switch is. ## Who this is for Conference audiences, all-hands and leadership away-days — and it lands especially strongly with neurodivergent-led and neurodiverse organisations, where "inclusion and diversity as a strength" is lived experience rather than a slide. It suits HR, EDI, wellbeing and ERG audiences, and any organisation part-way through an AI rollout that is starting to notice not everyone is flying. Warm, candid and thought-provoking, with practical ideas and the kind of humour that gives people permission to reflect on their own experiences — whatever kind of mind they bring to the room. ## Go deeper - [Neuroinclusion at work](/guides/neuroinclusion-at-work) - [Tolerated, accepted, embraced](/guides/tolerated-accepted-embraced) - [Inclusion by design: the soup-spoon test](/guides/inclusion-by-design-the-soup-spoon-test) - [Using AI responsibly and inclusively](/guides/using-ai-responsibly-and-inclusively) - [The AI readiness divide](/guides/the-ai-readiness-divide) - [Self-check: how neuroinclusive are you?](/diagnostics/neuroinclusion) --- ### Belonging for Every Learner https://joannelockwood.co.uk/topics/belonging-for-every-learner Not whether. How. Dignity for every learner, every parent, every colleague. Key themes: - The four seconds — how the first moment at reception decides how the next ten minutes feel - Four people in every story — the learner, the parent or carer, the member of staff, and everyone else; no villains - What gets in the way — fear of getting it wrong, fear of the fallout, our own beliefs, the noise outside, and time - Hanlon's razor and "Sorry, Sam" — getting it wrong gracefully, and "I don't know, but I'll find out" as a complete answer - The dignity test — three questions that work in any setting, phase or conversation - Two real scenarios practised in the room — the parent at reception and the quiet disclosure - Five moves for Monday — no budget, about an hour each, from nursery to college ## About this keynote Every school, college and setting runs on thousands of small moments — a parent at reception, a learner who finally says what is worrying them, a colleague who gets something wrong in front of the class. How those moments feel decides whether people trust you, whether learners settle and attend, and whether a worry stays a conversation or becomes a complaint. Most staff want to get those moments right. What stops them is rarely values. It is fear — of saying the wrong thing, of the parents' WhatsApp group, of a headline that has walked in through the gate — plus the simple fact that nobody has time. So good people freeze, avoid, or guess. And learners notice all three. This keynote gives your staff the confidence and the words to handle the hard moments well, with **every learner, every parent and every colleague** — whoever they are and whatever they believe. It is not a debate and it is not political; I am not there to tell anyone what to think. It is about how people feel when they have dealt with you, which is the part every setting controls, whatever its policies say. ## What we explore **The four seconds.** The person on reception has about four seconds to decide how the next ten minutes will feel. The settings that do this well are not the ones with the longest policies or the most posters — they are the ones where the front line knows what to do in that moment, and cares how the other person walks away. **Four people in every story.** In almost every difficult situation there are four perspectives: the learner, spending energy bracing that should be going into learning; the parent or carer, asking _"is my child going to be OK here?"_; the member of staff, worried and short of time; and everyone else, watching how the person in the middle is treated. Nobody in that list is the villain — most of the heat comes from four sets of worries meeting in one corridor. **What gets in the way.** Fear of getting it wrong, fear of the fallout, our own beliefs and discomfort, the noise outside, and time. We name each one, because naming them is what takes the power out of them. Your beliefs are yours; your conduct is what people experience. **Getting it wrong gracefully.** Everyone gets something wrong. A quick correction — _"Sorry, Sam"_ — keeps the moment about them, not you. _"I don't know, but I'll find out and come back to you by Thursday"_ is a complete, professional answer. And **Hanlon's razor** — never put down to malice what is explained by someone not knowing — works in every direction: the angry parent, the clumsy colleague, the learner, and yourself. **The dignity test.** Three questions that work in any setting, phase or conversation. _Would I handle it this way for anyone else? Can I explain what is happening, kindly? Will this person leave with their dignity intact?_ The same decision, delivered privately and warmly instead of with a sigh in front of the class, is a completely different experience for a child. **Practice, not theory.** We work through two real scenarios together — an angry parent at reception, and a quiet disclosure in a one-to-one — and draw out the shape of a good response: notice, acknowledge, follow your process, protect confidentiality, say what happens next, write it down. It works alongside your policy and your safeguarding lead, never instead of them. **Inclusion by design.** Small design choices remove friction for many people at once. Privacy for everyone — a private toilet or changing option, available to anyone, no questions asked — helps the autistic learner, the learner with a medical need, the anxious Year 7 and many more. You do not build a ramp for one person; you build it, and find out how many people were waiting for it. **Five moves for Monday.** Read your policy through a human lens. Make the route obvious. Give your front line the words. Make unkindness visible. Tell people how you will treat them before there is a problem. None needs a budget; most take about an hour. Every delegate leaves with one action and a date next to it. ## Think, feel and act differently **Think differently** — belonging is built in everyday moments, not policies; the same skills help a learner with ALN, a young carer, a newly arrived family and an anxious parent alike. **Feel differently** — confident rather than frightened: you know the route, you have the words, and it is fine not to have every answer. **Act differently** — one concrete change in the next two weeks, so that someone in your building has a better experience because of it — and, over time, fewer complaints and escalations. ## Who this is for Whole staff teams in early years, primary, secondary, further education and specialist settings — teachers, teaching assistants, reception and front-of-house teams, pastoral and safeguarding staff, SENCOs and ALNCos, senior leaders and governors. It works as an education conference keynote, an INSET day or twilight session, or a focused briefing for leadership, governor and pastoral teams, across Wales, England and beyond. First delivered at the National Education Show in Cardiff, October 2026. ## What delegates said Every one of the 24 delegates who gave feedback at the National Education Show said they took away something new or valuable. > "Putting a human lens on policy! Too many people are driven by processes, losing the heart of what > we do day in, day out. It's important to remember that the children are the reason behind > everything." — **Leah-Marie Jones**, Newport City Council > "Thought provoking on how to make people feel listened to, and don't be afraid in not knowing the > answers." — **Delegate**, National Education Show Cardiff > "Engaging, knowledgeable and a calm approach to her explaining." — **Jennifer Powell**, St Mary's > RC Primary School ## Go deeper - [Getting it wrong gracefully](/guides/getting-it-wrong-gracefully) - [Psychological safety](/guides/psychological-safety-at-work) - [Courageous conversations](/guides/courageous-conversations-at-work) - [Razors and rhetorical traps](/guides/razors-and-rhetorical-traps) - [Inclusion by design: the soup spoon test](/guides/inclusion-by-design-the-soup-spoon-test) - [#PositivePeopleExperiences: Smile, Engage, Educate](/guides/positive-people-experiences) - [Self-check: challenging conversations](/diagnostics/challenging-conversations) - [Self-check: psychological safety and belonging](/diagnostics/psychological-safety-belonging) --- ### AI as a Critical Friend https://joannelockwood.co.uk/topics/ai-critical-friend A critical friend, not a compliant one. Key themes: - Everyday AI that lowers the fear — the insurance claim, the complaint letter, the blood-test results — before any of the big questions - Rubber ducking: why explaining a problem out loud solves it, and how AI became the interactive duck - Prompt for challenge, not validation — the danger is that if you ask it to agree, it will - AI for reflection and journaling — pattern-spotting over time, with hard limits: a critical friend, never a therapist - The new digital divide: helping colleagues who feel left behind by Copilot, agents and AI-everything - Keeping the human in the loop — AGI, the disappearing first rung of the career ladder, and what stays ours ## About this session Most AI sessions teach you to be more productive at work — clear your inbox, summarise the meeting, write the report. This one doesn't. It's a conversation about using AI on yourself: to think more clearly, to reflect, to prepare for the difficult conversation, to work out what you actually believe before you say it out loud. That's a different question, and it matters most to the people who have somewhere to get to and nobody obvious to ask. The teenager who can't ask their parents. The colleague who doesn't want to raise it with their manager. The person weighing something up at 2am who just needs to hear their own thinking said back to them. It runs as a **fireside conversation** rather than a talk — host-led, unscripted, shaped around a few agreed pillars, with the audience invited in throughout. Joanne is an **AI realist**: neither evangelist nor doom-monger. The whole point is that the sceptics in the room get a genuine hearing, because a session that only platforms the enthusiasts convinces nobody. ## What we explore **The everyday unlock.** Start where the fear is lowest. Dictating a rambling account of a car accident and getting a clean insurance claim out of it. A complaint to a rail company that actually paid out. Blood test results explained in plain English. None of this is clever — that's the point. It's the on-ramp. **Rubber ducking.** The technique comes from software teams who kept a rubber duck on the desk: before you're allowed to ask the senior developer, you have to explain the problem to the duck. A large share of problems solve themselves in the telling. AI is an interactive duck — it answers back. **Prompt for challenge, not validation.** The real risk isn't hallucination, it's agreement. Ask it to back you and it will. The skill is telling it to find the holes in your argument — to be honest, fair, not brutal, encouraging but realistic. The friend who tells you that you've got bad breath, not the one who lets you walk into the room. **Reflection, with the line drawn clearly.** Journaling, and reading your own patterns back weeks later. Thinking through a decision you're circling. This is where the caveats have to be loudest: it is not a therapist, it is not clinical advice, and there are moments that need a human being. Knowing where that line sits is part of the session, not a disclaimer at the end. **The new digital divide.** Twenty years ago we worried about who had a computer. Now a colleague of thirty years hears "agents" and "Copilot" and quietly decides this isn't for them. AI fluency is becoming a workplace competency — which means it can be taught, and nobody should be written off for not having arrived with it. **Keeping the human in the loop.** Where does the hand-off happen? What can you delegate before it stops being yours? The first rung of the career ladder is being automated away — you can't become a senior anything without having been a junior one. Worth facing squarely rather than cheerfully. ## Think, feel and act differently **Think differently** — AI doesn't make you better; it reveals what you bring. The same recipe produces a masterpiece or something merely edible depending on who's holding it. **Feel differently** — less afraid, and less sold to. Curious enough to experiment, sceptical enough to keep asking questions. **Act differently** — one thing to try this week, and one boundary you won't cross. ## Who this is for Employee networks and ERGs, belonging and inclusion conferences, all-hands and lunch-and-learns — anywhere people want to talk about AI as humans rather than as users. Especially strong for communities where "who do I ask about this?" has a complicated answer, and for organisations part-way through an AI rollout where some colleagues are flying and others have gone quiet. Works best with a named host and a live audience — polls per pillar to temperature-check the room, and questions taken throughout rather than saved to the end. ## Go deeper - [AI, Belonging and the Human Future of Work](/topics/ai-belonging-future-of-work) - [The AI readiness divide](/guides/the-ai-readiness-divide) - [Using AI responsibly and inclusively](/guides/using-ai-responsibly-and-inclusively) - [Using AI for good at work](/guides/using-ai-for-good-at-work) - [AI and bias at work](/guides/ai-and-bias-at-work) - [Mentoring in the age of AI](/guides/mentoring-in-the-age-of-ai) - [Self-check: AI and inclusion readiness](/diagnostics/ai-inclusion) --- ### Allyship & Belonging: Leaning In, Not Leaning Away https://joannelockwood.co.uk/topics/allyship-belonging-leaning-in Lean in, not away. Key themes: - Inclusion is what an organisation creates; belonging is what a person feels — and why you can have one without the other - Leaning in, not away: replacing the fear of saying the wrong thing with respectful curiosity - Intent, impact and accountability — and the half-step apology that gets a conversation back in step - Stepping in when something doesn't sit right: distract, call out or call in — or hand it over and own it - Setting a clear standard for how people are treated, including names and pronouns, without policing belief - Welcoming members and visitors: the last hundred yards, inclusive defaults and the suitcase test - Awareness, confidence, competence, action and impact — with accountability buddies to make it stick ## About this session Most teams don't need persuading that belonging matters. What they want is the confidence to act on it — to ask the question they're unsure how to phrase, to step in when a comment lands badly, and to make sure the people they serve feel as welcome as the people they work with. This is a **fireside conversation** rather than a lecture. It's host-led, shaped around questions the team sends in beforehand, and open to the room throughout. Honest and clumsy is welcome. Joanne draws on more than a thousand sessions and on her own lived experience as a transgender woman, and she keeps it practical, warm and often funny. It suits organisations that already have a positive culture and want to keep it that way. A good culture doesn't sustain itself: people's lives change, members change, and every change tests whether the culture holds. ## What we explore **Inclusion and belonging aren't the same thing.** An organisation can do everything right on paper and still have people who don't feel they belong. Belonging is often the absence of friction — and the favourite coffee shop test explains it better than any definition. **Leaning in, not leaning away.** Many of us were taught as children not to point and not to stare. The habit lingers as hesitation, and hesitation is felt as distance. A plain, respectful question builds more trust than careful silence. **Intent, impact and accountability.** Most people mean well; the risk is intent and impact not matching. What a good recovery sounds like — brief, about the other person, then put right — and why it's not solved until it's solved. **Stepping in.** If you walk on by, you signal it was acceptable. Three ways to step in, what to do when you don't feel ready, and why emotion and logic don't mix. **Setting the standard.** You can't police what people believe. You can set how people are treated here — names and pronouns included — and manage behaviour against it, including with frustrated members and customers. **Welcoming everyone through the door.** Access is physical and psychological. The last hundred yards, inclusive defaults, quiet spaces, and the suitcase test that shows where a route gets stuck. **From awareness to impact.** Awareness, confidence, competence, action and impact — and the accountability buddies and 30, 90 and 120-day check-ins that turn one action into a habit. ## Think, feel and act differently **Think differently** — belonging is built in small, everyday moments, and allyship is a title other people give you based on what you do. **Feel differently** — more confident about getting it wrong, and recovering well when you do. **Act differently** — one specific action, an accountability buddy, and a date to check what changed. ## Who this is for Staff teams, membership organisations, clubs, associations and charities — anywhere people serve members, volunteers or visitors as well as each other. Especially strong for organisations with a warm culture that want to stay ahead of drift, and for front-line teams who handle the public. Works best with a named host from the organisation, questions gathered in advance, and the room invited in throughout. Every delegate receives a take-away playbook with the frameworks, a 120-day action plan and a one-page commitment sheet. ## Go deeper - [Inclusive Culture & Belonging](/topics/inclusive-culture-belonging) - [Inclusion vs belonging](/guides/inclusion-vs-belonging) - [Allyship: hold the rope](/guides/allyship-hold-the-rope) - [Psychological safety at work](/guides/psychological-safety-at-work) - [Cultural intelligence (CQ)](/guides/cultural-intelligence) - [Microaggressions at work: small cuts that add up](/guides/microaggressions-at-work) - [Pronouns & inclusive language](/guides/pronouns-and-inclusive-language-at-work) - [Self-check: am I an active or passive ally?](/diagnostics/allyship) --- ### Inclusive Leadership in the Real World https://joannelockwood.co.uk/topics/inclusive-leadership-real-world Beyond the numbers: inclusion when everyone looks the same. Key themes: - What inclusion means when your local labour market doesn't supply visible difference — and why that raises the bar rather than lowering it - Emotional Intelligence (EQ): reading the room, managing your own impact, and noticing what people don't say - Cultural Intelligence (CQ): working well across difference of every kind — background, belief, generation, thinking style, site and shift - Conscious inclusion over unconscious exclusion: most exclusion is design, not malice - Psychological safety as the outcome — whether people can bring their whole thinking to work, not just their whole self - From counting difference to broadening appeal: who have we accidentally designed out of applying, speaking, staying? - Measuring what you cannot count — engagement, retention and survey movement as the honest proxy ## About this session Some organisations have a local labour market that supplies plenty of visible difference. Many don't — regional sites, long-serving teams, a town where most families have been there for generations. For those leaders, inclusion has to mean something other than counting heads, because the numbers won't tell them anything they don't already know. This session gives them that something. When everyone in the room looks broadly the same, inclusion becomes a question about **what happens between people** — whether they can disagree with the room, say the difficult thing, admit the mistake, or offer the idea that sounds daft until it turns out to be right. That's a sharper leadership question than representation ever was, and a more useful one, because it's entirely within your leaders' control. It's also where the smart money is heading. A growing number of organisations are moving inclusive leadership up their strategy in place of diversity as a headline — recognising that behaviour is what actually shifts culture. Done thoughtfully, that's an upgrade. ## What we explore The session is built on four anchor points. Two are capabilities your leaders develop — **emotional intelligence** and **cultural intelligence**. Two are what those capabilities produce — **conscious inclusion** and **psychological safety**. Together they form a chain: leaders who can read themselves and read difference make deliberate design choices, and deliberate design choices are what make people feel safe enough to contribute everything they've got. **Emotional Intelligence — the inward anchor.** Self-awareness, self-regulation, empathy and the ability to read a room. Noticing your own impact as it lands rather than a week later. Hearing what people aren't saying. EQ is what stops good intentions from producing clumsy outcomes, and it is learnable at every level of leadership. **Cultural Intelligence — the outward anchor.** The capability to work well across difference of every kind, and in a homogeneous workforce this is the one that unlocks everything. CQ isn't only about nationality or ethnicity. It's background, belief, generation, education, class, thinking style, neurotype, shift pattern, site and function. The most consequential cultural gaps in many businesses are between head office and the shop floor, days and nights, engineering and sales — and those exist wherever you are, whoever works for you. **Conscious inclusion — the design anchor.** Most exclusion isn't malice, it's design: the meeting shape, the recruitment habit, the shift pattern, the assumption nobody thought to test. EQ and CQ give leaders the perception to spot it; conscious inclusion is the discipline of then choosing deliberately. Who's not in the room? Whose view haven't we heard? What did we design without asking? **Psychological safety — the outcome anchor.** This is the payoff and the proof. Can people challenge upwards, admit a mistake early, flag the risk, offer the half-formed idea? In a homogeneous organisation this is precisely what separates a genuinely inclusive culture from a merely comfortable one. Many long-established businesses do this instinctively and have never named it — and naming it is what lets you reproduce it deliberately, teach it, and protect it when the people who embodied it retire. Around those four anchors: **Positive people experiences.** The philosophy underneath all of it — and the mantra behind SEE Change Happen: **Smile, Engage, Educate**. Lead with warmth so people feel safe. Connect before you convince. Bring people with you rather than shame them into compliance — call people *in*, not out. For leaders wary of being lectured, this is the version that works. **Broadening demographic appeal.** Rather than counting difference, look at reach. Where are we unintentionally narrowing who will apply, who will speak up, who will stay, who will buy? The design question is not "are we diverse?" but "who have we accidentally designed out?" **The outside-in view.** Where contemporary thinking has got to, and the patterns that recur across the range of organisations I work with — principles that travel, and the better questions that let you find your own levers, on your sites, with your people. ## Think, feel and act differently **Think differently** — inclusion is the quality of what happens between people, built on intelligences you can develop, and it shows up in engagement, retention and discretionary effort. **Feel differently** — equipped and energised: EQ, CQ and psychological safety are capabilities you build, not personality traits you either have or you don't. **Act differently** — name one thing you'll do differently, and one way you'll know whether it worked. ## Who this is for Leadership and executive teams in manufacturing, engineering, construction, logistics, agriculture and B2B — particularly organisations with regional or rural sites, long-serving workforces, and a local labour market that doesn't supply much visible diversity. Equally suited to any leadership team that has moved inclusive leadership up its strategy and wants to make it mean something in practice. Works especially well as the closing session of a leadership away-day or retreat, where the conversation can carry into the evening rather than stopping when the session does. ## Go deeper - [What is inclusive leadership?](/guides/what-is-inclusive-leadership) - [Emotional intelligence and inclusion](/guides/emotional-intelligence-and-inclusion) - [Cultural intelligence](/guides/cultural-intelligence) - [Conscious inclusion](/guides/conscious-inclusion) - [Psychological safety at work](/guides/psychological-safety-at-work) - [#PositivePeopleExperiences: Smile, Engage, Educate](/guides/positive-people-experiences) - [Communicating across cultures](/guides/communicating-across-cultures) - [Self-check: inclusive leadership](/diagnostics/inclusive-leadership) - [Self-check: emotional intelligence](/diagnostics/emotional-intelligence) - [Self-check: cultural intelligence](/diagnostics/cultural-intelligence) - [Self-check: psychological safety and belonging](/diagnostics/psychological-safety-belonging) --- ### Is Your Culture Really in Order? https://joannelockwood.co.uk/topics/is-your-culture-in-order People don't leave bad jobs — they leave bad bosses. Key themes: - Why culture — not perks — drives performance: people leave bad bosses, and engagement tracks the culture leaders create - The Herzberg trap: get the basic hygiene factors right before you try to motivate - Why Emotional Intelligence (EQ) and Cultural Intelligence (CQ) are the foundations of motivation, communication and trust - The key traits of an inclusive leader — and how to nurture them at every level - Intent vs impact: building a culture where people step up, step in, and can challenge well ## About this keynote Your leaders have more impact on your culture than any policy, perk or poster. Get leadership right and people feel they belong — they thrive and perform at their best. Get it wrong and, as the old cliché goes, people don't leave bad jobs, they leave bad bosses. It happens all the time; and where organisations don't invest in developing leadership at every level, poor cultures quietly take hold. So this is a practical, performance-focused look at the culture your leaders create — because employee experience and engagement are directly linked to it. And the link shows up in the numbers: organisations with inclusive cultures see, by one study, up to **33% higher revenue per employee**, alongside lower turnover, higher morale, and people who are more resilient and well. ## What we explore **Is your culture really in order?** We start with the honest question. Engagement, retention and discretionary effort are all downstream of the culture leaders set — deliberately, or by default. **Hygiene before motivation.** Drawing on Herzberg: you can't motivate your way out of unmet basics. Fix the hygiene factors first, and then purpose, motivation and belonging have somewhere to land. **EQ and CQ as the foundations.** Emotional Intelligence and Cultural Intelligence are what let leaders read the room, communicate across difference, and build the trust that motivation depends on. **Intent vs impact.** Well-meaning leaders still get it wrong — clumsy words, missed signals, stereotypes and microaggressions that compound. We focus on impact: how things land, and how to build a culture where people feel safe to step up, step in, and challenge behaviour well. **The traits of an inclusive leader.** The habits and behaviours that bring people together — and how to recognise and nurture them at every level, not just at the top. ## Think, feel and act differently **Think differently** — culture isn't the HR department's job; it's the sum of what leaders do every day, and it shows up in performance. **Feel differently** — equipped rather than blamed: inclusive leadership is a set of habits you can build, not a personality you either have or you don't. **Act differently** — choose one thing: fix a hygiene factor, sharpen how you listen, or open a real channel for people to contribute and challenge. ## Who this is for Leadership and executive teams, managers at every level, and the HR, People, OD and L&D leaders who develop them — anyone serious about the culture their leaders create and the performance it drives. ## Go deeper - [What is inclusive leadership?](/guides/what-is-inclusive-leadership) - [Herzberg: hygiene before motivation](/guides/herzberg-hygiene-before-motivation) - [Emotional intelligence and inclusion](/guides/emotional-intelligence-and-inclusion) - [Psychological safety at work](/guides/psychological-safety-at-work) - [Self-check: inclusive leadership](/diagnostics/inclusive-leadership) --- ### The Power of the Words "I Am" https://joannelockwood.co.uk/topics/the-power-of-the-words-i-am Language can divide and destroy — or unite, and change the world for the better. Key themes: - How language shapes belonging — it can wound and exclude, or unite and include - The labels we put on others — and, just as powerfully, the ones we put on ourselves - Why being genuinely listened to is the heart of belonging - How words shift across cultures and contexts — and what gets lost when we speak without listening - The quiet courage of "I am": taking responsibility for your own self-belief ## About this keynote Language has the power to divide and destroy — and yet we are all human. When we truly listen to each other, understand, and actually communicate, language has the opposite power: to unite, to build friendship, and to change the world for the better. How we label each other — and, most of all, how we label ourselves — shapes the lives of everyone around us. Drawing on her own journey, Joanne shares how she finally overcame her limiting beliefs simply by saying "I am" — taking responsibility for believing in herself, and finding that when she did, others followed. It's a warm, personal and genuinely moving keynote about words, listening and belonging. ## What we explore **Words that divide, words that unite.** Language can be a weapon or a bridge. Used carelessly it hurts and excludes; used with care it brings people together. **The labels we carry.** The labels we put on others shape how they are treated — and the labels we put on ourselves shape what we believe is possible. **Lost in translation.** Words shift meaning across cultures and contexts; when we translate — or simply speak without listening — we lose the emotional connection behind them. **Listening as belonging.** Each of us has value and deserves dignity and respect, and being genuinely listened to is what makes a person feel they belong. **The power of "I am".** Joanne's own turning point — claiming "I am", taking responsibility for her self-belief, and how that quietly changed everything around her. ## Think, feel and act differently **Think differently** — words are never neutral; they shape belonging, for other people and for ourselves. **Feel differently** — more seen and heard, and freer to claim your own "I am". **Act differently** — listen more closely, choose words with care, and mind the labels — including the ones you give yourself. ## Who this is for Conference and all-hands audiences, belonging and Pride events, and anyone exploring inclusive language, self-belief and what it really takes to feel you belong. Warm, personal, and pitched for a broad audience. ## Go deeper - [Why inclusive language matters](/guides/why-inclusive-language-matters) - [Everyday inclusive language](/guides/everyday-inclusive-language) - [Language keeps moving](/guides/language-keeps-moving) - [Imposter syndrome at work](/guides/imposter-syndrome-at-work) - [Self-check: inclusive language confidence](/diagnostics/inclusive-language-confidence) --- ### One Transition, Two Perspectives https://joannelockwood.co.uk/topics/one-transition-two-perspectives Belonging, bravery, and being seen — leading inclusion when the climate is hard. ## About this conversation Some conversations land differently when they come from two people who lived them. **One Transition, Two Perspectives** — also delivered as **_Two Voices, One Truth_** — is a fireside chat I share with my wife, **Marie Manley**. It is a calm, human, and practical conversation about what inclusive culture looks like when the subject is personal, visible, and often misunderstood. I bring the perspective of a transgender woman and inclusion specialist. Marie brings the perspective of a partner, ally, and fellow navigator of change — the person on the other side of someone else's journey. Together we explore how organisations can respond to complexity with clarity, care, and confidence: not slogans or abstract principles, but the real workplace moments and everyday behaviours that decide whether people feel safe, respected, and able to contribute. Our story featured in the Channel 4 / RDF documentary **The Making of Me** (February 2019), filmed over three years, and again in an episode of **Gogglebox**. This session is where we talk about what that decade of change was really like — and what it taught us about leading inclusion when the climate feels hard. > "The law may shape what's contested. It doesn't dictate your culture. People remember how they > were treated — and who showed up for them." ## Watch Before we say a word on stage, our story is already on screen. These two short films are the easiest way into the conversation — and a good primer for any audience ahead of the session. **The Making of Me (Channel 4 documentary — edit)** Filmed over three years, this Channel 4 / RDF documentary follows Joanne's transition and its honest, tender impact on Marie and the people closest to them.
**Gogglebox visits The Making of Me** The nation's living rooms react in real time as Channel 4's _Gogglebox_ features Joanne and Marie's story — and Joanne's headline-making hair transformation — in February 2019.
## What we explore The conversation is shaped around four themes, tailored to your audience: 1. **Lived experience and relationships** — what was needed at different points, what was difficult, what helped, and how we navigated change together as a couple. 2. **Workplace and care-setting culture** — what genuinely inclusive culture feels like in practice, and what good allyship looks like beyond symbols. 3. **Navigating uncertainty with confidence** — the honest truth that nobody gets it right every time, with explicit permission to be imperfect and a way to recover well. 4. **Allyship in action** — moving from understanding to behaviour: calling in rather than calling out, and the difference between neutrality and care. ## Think, feel and act differently **Think differently** — there are real people, and real relationships, behind every policy and public debate. **Feel differently** — safer to be imperfect, knowing the recovery matters more than getting it right first time. **Act differently** — show allyship as a behaviour, not an intention — calling in, and choosing care over neutrality. Seeing the human story, feeling permission to be imperfect, and acting with everyday care — that is how this conversation moves people from awareness, through understanding, to action. ## What audiences take away - a clearer understanding of the people impact behind policy and public debate - greater confidence to lead inclusively in day-to-day decisions and conversations - language and behaviours that reduce harm and build trust - practical ways to show allyship as action, not just intention - a reminder that culture is shaped by what we do — especially when things feel unclear _This session is grounded in lived experience and inclusive practice. It is not legal advice; organisations should seek professional counsel for policy decisions where required._ ## Who this is for Colleagues, people managers, HR, DEI/EDI leads, employee network groups and allies. It works beautifully for conferences, leadership events, inclusion and belonging programmes, employee-network events and Pride-month moments — delivered virtually, hybrid, or in person. ## Meet Marie Manley Marie Manley Marie joined SEE Change Happen in 2022 and is an advocate for how transition affects families and friends. She contributed to the Channel 4 documentary _The Making of Me_, and is writing a book of reflections from her side of the journey — to help families navigate it with their eyes wide open, understanding the challenges and facing them with positivity for the future happiness of all. Her contribution speaks directly to partners, family members, friends and colleagues who carry their own quiet uncertainty about how best to support without overstepping. ## What people say > "Joanne and Marie shared their life experiences with our organisation, through a fireside chat. > They were both honest and very open, which made participants feel safe and able to ask questions. > The session was engaging, with candid humour, talking through a very personal experience which was > emotional, educational, and informative. My colleagues left the session with a better > understanding of how it can be to transition and also how to support friends, family and > colleagues who may be transitioning or want to discuss gender identities. I would definitely love > to work with Joanne and Marie again!" > > **Wayne Page** — Head of Inclusion and Diversity, Brit Insurance > "It was such a pleasure working with Marie on a webinar for our company. Marie was very thoughtful > in sharing her personal journey and giving our teams useful insight into how to be a true ally. I > hope we'll have the chance to work together in the future." > > **Brittany F. Boykin** — In-House Counsel, Head of Claims & Underwriting, Brit Insurance > "I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed the talk with Marie and Joanne last week. It was an > incredible insight into each of their experiences, feelings, struggles and triumphs throughout > Joanne's transition." > > **Michelle Hart** — Head of Operational Risk, Brit Insurance ## Go deeper - [Trans inclusion at work](/guides/trans-inclusion-at-work) - [Supporting a colleague who is transitioning](/guides/supporting-a-colleague-who-is-transitioning) - [Supporting a partner through transition](/guides/supporting-a-partner-through-transition) (a guest guide from Marie Manley) - [How to be a trans ally at work](/guides/how-to-be-a-trans-ally-at-work) - [Self-check: trans ally](/diagnostics/trans-ally) --- ### The Reluctant Mentor https://joannelockwood.co.uk/topics/the-reluctant-mentor Reluctance is not always humility — sometimes it is fear wearing respectable clothes. Key themes: - Why we discount earned wisdom when it did not arrive with a certificate - Credentials vs credibility — certification is not the same as value - How imposter syndrome can masquerade as modesty, and modesty as self-erasure - The MAP of useful mentoring — Mirror, Anchor, Permission - What mentoring really is (and is not) — usefulness, not guru status - Spotting who you already, informally, mentor — and the cost of staying reluctant - Stepping into advisory, mentoring and thought-leadership roles without waiting to be appointed ## About this keynote For years, I resisted the word "mentor". People came to me for advice — senior leaders, board members, aspiring EDI professionals, consultants, speakers, business owners and changemakers — yet the label never sat comfortably. Too formal, too polished, too presumptuous, weighed down by qualifications and certificates I did not claim to hold. So I did what many experienced people do: I discounted the evidence. At some point the question shifts. Not "Who am I to mentor?" but "Why am I still pretending this experience has no value?" This reflective, practical keynote sits in that tension between lived experience and imposter syndrome, and challenges the idea that wisdom only counts once it has been formally certified. It is not about setting yourself up as a guru — it is about becoming intentionally useful. ## What we explore We start with the quiet confusion at the heart of it: **credentials versus credibility**. We are taught to trust the badge — a qualification, a methodology, a title someone else bestowed — because it feels safe to claim. Lived credibility feels riskier, because no one signed it off, so experienced people sit on years of pattern recognition and hard-won judgement and call it "nothing special". As I came to admit: I thought I was reluctant because I was being humble; perhaps I was reluctant because I had confused certification with permission. Authority, it turns out, is often not one thing but the compound interest of many — leadership, lived experience, listening, business, reinvention. From there we get honest about what mentoring actually is. Not therapy, counselling or formal coaching, and not having all the answers — but perspective, challenge, encouragement, sense-making and pragmatic advice about the next step. Standing _beside_ someone, not above them. Most of it comes down to three moves I call **MAP**: **Mirror** (helping people see themselves and their options more clearly), **Anchor** (grounded perspective from experience, not theory alone), and **Permission** (helping them take the step they may already know they need to take). That is the whole job — and it asks for honesty, boundaries and care far more than it asks for a certificate. ## Think, feel and act differently **Think differently** — credibility is earned through experience, not conferred by a certificate. **Feel differently** — lighter, as the reluctance dressed up as humility is named for what it often is: fear. **Act differently** — stop waiting to be appointed; be useful to the person two chapters behind you. Reframing reluctance, releasing the fear, and offering your experience deliberately — that is how the session moves people from awareness, through understanding, to action. ## Who this is for Experienced professionals who quietly underclaim their expertise — leaders, managers, consultants, coaches, speakers, EDI, HR, OD and L&D practitioners, entrepreneurs, and anyone conditioned to treat their own wisdom as "just experience". It resonates strongly with women in leadership, with marginalised professionals, and with professional associations, talent-development programmes and conference audiences asking what it really takes to step forward. ## Go deeper - [The reluctant mentor](/guides/the-reluctant-mentor) - [Credentials vs credibility](/guides/credentials-vs-credibility) - [Mirror, anchor, permission](/guides/mirror-anchor-permission) - [Self-check: mentoring](/diagnostics/mentoring) --- ### Hold the Rope https://joannelockwood.co.uk/topics/hold-the-rope Active allyship — from bystander to upstander. Will you hold the rope with me? Key themes: - The bystander effect — why good, decent people freeze and look away when it matters most - Active vs passive allyship — the difference is whether you actually hold the rope, together - Intent vs impact — meaning well is not the same as doing no harm, and why accountability matters - Nobody gets up to be a dick — starting from the belief that people are inherently good - Curiosity over correction — asking "why do you believe that?" instead of debating the outcome - E+R=O — the "+" is perspective, and that is where understanding actually begins - Action changes things — turning an inspiring day into one concrete commitment that outlasts it ## About this keynote Almost nobody sets out to do harm. Nobody gets up in the morning planning to be the problem — most people are decent, well-meaning, and quietly hoping someone else will say the difficult thing. And that is exactly where the trouble starts. There is a gap between meaning well and doing something, and most of us live in it more often than we would like to admit. We notice the comment, the exclusion, the person being left to carry it alone — and we look away, because intervening feels awkward and silence feels safe. This keynote is about closing that gap. I use a simple, physical image that audiences do not forget: a rope, passed hand to hand around the room. The difference between an active ally and a passive one is not how strongly you feel — it is whether you actually take hold of the rope and help carry the weight. People on the receiving end of exclusion are getting blisters holding that rope on their own. The question I put to every room is the one that moves people: _will you hold it with me?_ ## What we explore We start by getting honest about the **bystander effect** — the very human reasons good people do nothing. Then we draw a clear line between **passive and active allyship**: nodding along is not the same as leaning in. Crucially, this is not a session about shame or about deciding who the bad people are. I work from the belief that people are inherently good — _nobody gets up to be a dick_ — because that is the only place real change can start. From there we tackle the distinction that does the heavy lifting: **intent versus impact**. Good intentions do not undo harm — the difference between manslaughter and murder is intent, but someone is still gone — so we learn to hold both compassion for the why and accountability for the impact. I share the equation I keep coming back to, **E+R=O**: an Encounter, plus our Reaction, produces an Outcome. We spend our energy arguing about outcomes; the "+" is **perspective**, and that is where understanding actually lives. So instead of correcting people, we practise **curiosity** — "tell me _why_ you believe that" — because you can understand someone's reasoning without agreeing with their conclusion, and that is how you keep people in the conversation rather than slamming the door. Want a sense of where you sit before the room even gathers? The free [Allyship self-check](/diagnostics/allyship) asks the honest question — _am I an active or a passive ally?_ — and is a good way to warm an audience up or carry the keynote forward afterwards. ## Think, feel and act differently **Think differently** — allyship is a verb; intentions are invisible, but holding the rope is not. **Feel differently** — released from the fear of getting it wrong, and from the false comfort of staying neutral. **Act differently** — make one concrete commitment, because _action changes things_ and the rope slips the moment you let go. Naming the bystander reflex, replacing correction with curiosity, and leaving with a single deliberate action — that is how the session carries people from awareness, through understanding, to action. ## Who this is for Leaders, managers, employee networks, allies and anyone who wants their good intentions to translate into something that actually helps. It lands powerfully as a conference close or all-hands session, where a room full of energised, well-meaning people needs a reason — and a method — not to file out and change nothing. It suits EDI, HR and ERG audiences, and any organisation asking how to turn belonging from a poster into a behaviour. ## Go deeper - [Allyship: hold the rope](/guides/allyship-hold-the-rope) - [Leaning in, not leaning away](/guides/leaning-in-not-leaning-away) - [Conscious inclusion](/guides/conscious-inclusion) - [Self-check: active or passive ally?](/diagnostics/allyship) ## Guides — Joanne's philosophy & thought leadership (https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides) ### Rubber Ducking with AI https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/rubber-ducking-with-ai ## Common questions { Q: `What is rubber ducking?`, A: `Rubber ducking is a problem-solving technique from software development: before you are allowed to interrupt a senior colleague, you have to explain the problem out loud to a rubber duck on your desk. A surprising share of problems solve themselves in the telling, because the act of putting a half-formed thought into words forces you to make it coherent. The duck never says anything — the value is entirely in your own articulation.`, }, { Q: `How do you use AI as a rubber duck?`, A: `Explain your problem to it as you would to a colleague — messily, at length, including the parts you are unsure about. The difference from a real duck is that AI answers back, so you get the benefit of articulating the problem plus something to push against. The critical move is to ask it to challenge you rather than agree: tell it to find the holes in your reasoning, argue the opposite case, or ask what you have not considered.`, }, { Q: `Why does AI agree with you so much?`, A: `Conversational AI is trained to be helpful and agreeable, which means it tends to follow your framing rather than question it. If you ask "is this a good idea?", you will usually be told it is. This is a bigger practical risk than the AI being factually wrong, because agreement feels like confirmation rather than a failure — you walk away more confident and no better informed. The fix is to prompt explicitly for disagreement.`, }, { Q: `What is red teaming an idea with AI?`, A: `Red teaming borrows from security: a red team attacks, a blue team defends. Applied to an argument or a business case, you ask AI to play a hostile reviewer and give you its strongest objections, then ask it to defend the idea against exactly those objections. Wherever the defence is thin, that is your real problem. Giving the AI an adversarial role works better than simply asking for a critique, because it cuts through the trained instinct to be agreeable — it is hard to be sycophantic while playing a hostile reviewer.`, }, { Q: `Can you use AI as a therapist?`, A: `No. AI can be a useful critical friend for ordering your thoughts, rehearsing a difficult conversation or noticing patterns in your own thinking over time, but it is not a therapist and it is not clinical advice. It has no duty of care, no training and no ability to recognise when someone is genuinely in trouble. If something is serious, talk to a human — a friend, a GP, or a professional.`, }, --- ### #PositivePeopleExperiences https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/positive-people-experiences We’re all familiar with PPE — personal protective equipment. Joanne Lockwood reclaims those three letters for something more human: Positive People Experiences . The premise is simple but powerful — culture is the sum of the experiences people have with one another . Get those everyday moments right, again and again, and inclusion stops being an initiative and becomes the way things are done. Why #PositivePeopleExperiences matters Organisations pour energy into strategies, statements and training, yet culture is ultimately decided in the small moments: how someone is greeted, whether their idea is heard, how a mistake is handled, whether they leave a conversation feeling bigger or smaller. Nobody remembers the policy. Everybody remembers how you made them feel. That’s why #PositivePeopleExperiences is the human foundation underneath diversity, equity and inclusion. You can’t mandate belonging — but you can shape the countless interactions that create it. When every person commits to leaving others a little better off, inclusion becomes everyone’s job, not just HR’s. It also cuts through the alphabet soup. DEI, EDI, an added “J” for justice — the acronyms multiply and, as Joanne puts it, confuse the layperson and make inclusion feel like someone else’s technical specialism. Positive People Experiences is deliberately human and memorable. And “people” means everyone who touches your organisation — employees, yes, but also customers, suppliers, partners and community. “I coined an acronym — PPE: Positive People Experiences. We get caught up in DEI, EDI, putting a J in for justice, and it confuses the layperson. Positive People Experiences is the fundamental — and it’s not just the employee, it’s anybody who touches your business.” — Joanne Lockwood, Inclusion Bites podcast The mantra: Smile · Engage · Educate The approach is captured in three words — the SEE in SEE Change Happen : Smile, Engage, Educate . It’s a deliberately gentle, human order of operations for change. Smile — lead with warmth A smile is disarming. It signals safety, approachability and goodwill before a word is said. Leading with warmth lowers defences and opens the door to honest conversation — which is exactly what difficult subjects like identity, bias and inclusion need. Warmth isn’t soft; it’s strategic. People don’t change for those who make them feel judged. Engage — connect before you convince Engagement means genuinely connecting: listening, staying curious, and meeting people where they are rather than where you wish they were. It’s a dialogue, not a lecture. When people feel heard, they’re willing to be moved — and you learn what’s really going on beneath the surface. Relationship comes before persuasion, every time. Educate — bring people with you Only once there’s warmth and connection does education land. Educating means raising awareness and sharing understanding so people can choose to do better — not shaming them for not already knowing. It assumes good intent, fills gaps with knowledge, and trusts people to grow. Change built on understanding is willing and durable; change built on fear evaporates the moment no one is watching. Why it works Calling people out makes them defensive and drives behaviour underground. Smile, Engage, Educate does the opposite: it calls people in . It’s especially powerful with the well-meaning majority — the people who want to get it right but are afraid of getting it wrong, so they say and do nothing. Give them warmth, connection and knowledge, and they become your biggest allies. That’s how you create change that’s willing rather than grudging, and lasting rather than performative. Joanne’s approach in the room This philosophy runs through everything Joanne does — keynotes, workshops and the Inclusion Bites podcast . Audiences leave informed, not lectured; challenged, not shamed; and genuinely motivated to be part of the change. It’s inclusion with humour, humanity and hope — and it’s why the work sticks long after the event. Explore the Inclusive Culture & Belonging keynote or read more guides . ## Common questions { Q: 'What is #PositivePeopleExperiences?', A: '#PositivePeopleExperiences is Joanne Lockwood’s philosophy that inclusive culture is built one human interaction at a time. It reframes “PPE” from personal protective equipment to Positive People Experiences: the idea that every encounter is a chance to leave someone feeling seen, valued and respected — and that culture is simply the sum of those experiences.', }, { Q: 'What does Smile, Engage, Educate mean?', A: 'Smile, Engage, Educate is the mantra behind SEE Change Happen (the “SEE”). Smile means leading with warmth and humanity so people feel safe. Engage means genuinely connecting, listening and being curious rather than lecturing. Educate means helping people learn and grow through understanding, not shame — bringing them with you so change actually sticks.', }, { Q: 'Why does this approach work better than calling people out?', A: 'Shame and blame make people defensive and drive behaviour underground. Leading with warmth, connection and education brings people in — especially the well-meaning majority who want to do the right thing but fear getting it wrong. It creates change that is willing and lasting rather than compliant and resentful.', }, --- ### Allyship: hold the rope https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/allyship-hold-the-rope Ask people if they’re an ally and almost everyone says yes. Watch what happens when being an ally has a cost, and the picture gets more honest. That gap — between declaring allyship and doing it — is where Joanne Lockwood’s metaphor lands: hold the rope . The problem with performative allyship It’s never been easier to look like an ally. A lanyard, a logo, a post in the right month. None of that is bad — visibility matters — but it’s not the same as allyship. The risk is that the badge becomes the work, and nothing actually changes for the people it’s meant to help. “Allyship is more than just self-promotion or self-declaration — ‘yay, I’m going on a march because I’m a good person.’ Yes, do take part, do be visible, do show up — but it’s more than that.” — Joanne Lockwood, Inclusion Bites (“Rebel Hearts and Healing Paths”) What “hold the rope” means Picture someone whose weight is on a rope, and you’re holding the other end. Holding the rope isn’t the photo at the top of the climb — it’s the grip when their full weight comes on, when your arms are tired, when letting go would be easier. Allyship is the same. It’s turning up when the conversation is awkward, putting your own capital on the line, and staying when it’s no longer convenient or fashionable. Anyone can wave at the bottom of the cliff. Allies hold the rope. Call people in, not out Holding the rope also shapes how you challenge. Calling people out — shaming them publicly — feels righteous, but it makes people defensive and drives behaviour underground. Calling people in does the opposite. It assumes good intent and opens a door: “I don’t understand why that’s funny,” or “Have you thought about it this way?” It’s the same instinct as Smile, Engage, Educate — bring people with you, because change built on understanding lasts and change built on shame evaporates. Everyday allyship Amplify. Make sure good ideas are credited to the people who had them. Sponsor, don’t just mentor. Spend your capital opening doors, not only giving advice. Challenge quietly. Say something when you spot unfairness — it rarely needs a grand proclamation. Check in. A simple “are you OK?” to a colleague having a hard week is allyship in action. Use your privilege. Spend the advantages you have to create opportunities others were never offered. From intention to holding the rope Most people genuinely want to be good allies; what they lack is the confidence and the practical habits. That’s the work Joanne does with leaders and teams — turning good intentions into the everyday behaviours that make allyship real. Explore the LGBTQIA+ Inclusion & Pride and Inclusive Culture & Belonging topics, or hear allyship explored on the Inclusion Bites podcast . ## Common questions { Q: 'What does “hold the rope” mean in allyship?', A: '“Hold the rope” is Joanne Lockwood’s metaphor for real allyship: if someone’s weight is on the line, you don’t let go — even when it’s hard, costs you something, or no one is watching. It’s the difference between saying you’re an ally and actually being there when it matters.', }, { Q: 'What is the difference between performative and genuine allyship?', A: 'Performative allyship is about being seen to be an ally — the badge, the march, the social post that says “I’m a good person”. Genuine allyship is about action that may cost you: amplifying others, sponsoring them, challenging unfairness, and staying when it’s uncomfortable. Visibility is fine, but it isn’t the same as holding the rope.', }, { Q: 'How do I call someone in rather than call them out?', A: 'Calling out shames people publicly and makes them defensive. Calling in assumes good intent and opens a conversation: “I don’t understand why that’s funny,” or “Have you thought about it this way?” It invites people to do better without humiliation — which is how change actually sticks.', }, --- ### Building a culture of belonging https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/building-a-culture-of-belonging Most organisations have invested in diversity and inclusion for years, yet people still quietly leave, hold back ideas, or spend energy hiding parts of themselves. The missing piece is usually belonging — the felt sense that you are accepted and valued for who you are, not who you pretend to be. Belonging is what turns a diverse headcount into a culture where people genuinely do their best work. What belonging actually means It helps to separate three words that often get blurred together: Diversity is who is in the room — the mix of people, backgrounds and lived experiences. Inclusion is who gets to take part — the processes and choices that invite people in. Belonging is how people feel as a result — whether they can be themselves and know it matters. You can be counted in the diversity data and formally included, and still not feel you belong. That gap — between being present and feeling part of things — is where engagement, creativity and loyalty are won or lost. What belonging feels like — the “Cheers” test Here’s a simple way to recognise belonging when you feel it. Think of the bar in Cheers — the place “where everybody knows your name”, where you’re greeted the moment you walk in. Or picture your favourite coffee shop: they recognise you, start making your usual before you’ve asked, and seem genuinely glad you came in. You feel known, expected and welcome . That’s belonging. The opposite is walking into a room where nobody notices whether you’re there or not — or where you have to change how you speak, dress or act just to fit in. The goal of an inclusive culture is to give people that “favourite coffee shop” feeling at work: somewhere they’re recognised as themselves and glad to be. Why belonging matters When people feel they belong, they speak up, challenge constructively, ask for help and stay. When they don't, they self-edit: the quietest person in the meeting may have had the best idea, but the cost of saying it felt too high. Belonging is the difference between a team that merely complies and one that contributes. It shows up in retention, in discretionary effort, in psychological safety, and in whether people would recommend you as a place to work. The cost of getting it wrong is measurable. Deloitte’s 2024 analysis put the cost of poor mental health to UK employers at around £51bn a year — and the largest single component, £24bn, is presenteeism: people at their desks but not okay. That is exactly what absent belonging produces — colleagues who mask, hide parts of themselves or brace for the next microaggression are the definition of present-but-not-thriving. Belonging is not a nicety on top of performance; it sits upstream of it. (Sources on my facts & figures page.) The signals that build — or break — belonging Belonging isn't created by an annual event, a poster campaign or a single training day. It is built and eroded in small, repeated signals: Whose ideas get credited — and whose get talked over. Who gets stretch opportunities, sponsorship and the benefit of the doubt. Whether people can raise a concern without it costing them. How mistakes are handled — as learning, or as ammunition. Whether the everyday culture matches the values on the wall. How leaders build belonging Belonging is led from the top and reinforced by managers in daily interactions. The most effective leaders move from intention to a handful of consistent habits: Model vulnerability. When leaders admit they don't have all the answers, they make it safe for others to be human too. Make space for every voice. Actively invite quieter people in, and protect them when they speak. Be consistent. Belonging is built on predictability — people relax when they know where they stand. Act on what you hear. Nothing erodes trust faster than asking for feedback and doing nothing with it. Notice patterns, not just individuals. If a particular group keeps leaving or staying silent, that's a culture signal, not a coincidence. How to measure belonging What gets measured gets managed. Track belonging through a small set of honest questions — “Can I be myself here?” , “Does my voice count?” , “Would I recommend this as a place to work?” — over time and broken down by group, alongside retention, promotion equity and engagement. The aim isn't a perfect score; it's seeing clearly where belonging is strong and where it's quietly missing, so you can act. Avoiding “belonging-washing” The fastest way to lose trust is to talk about belonging without changing anything. People can tell the difference between a values statement and a lived experience. Start small and real: fix one process, change one meeting habit, follow through on one piece of feedback. Credibility comes from consistency, not slogans. Bring belonging to life in your organisation As “The Inclusive Culture Expert” , Joanne Lockwood helps leaders and teams move from good intentions to the everyday habits that make belonging real — through keynotes, workshops and honest, practical conversations. Explore the Inclusive Culture & Belonging keynote, hear real stories on the Inclusion Bites podcast , or read related guides . ## Common questions { Q: 'What is belonging at work?', A: 'Belonging at work is the felt experience of being accepted, valued and able to contribute as your authentic self — without having to cover or code-switch to fit in. Where diversity is who is in the room and inclusion is who gets to take part, belonging is whether people actually feel they are part of things.', }, { Q: 'What is the difference between inclusion and belonging?', A: 'Inclusion is something an organisation does — designing fair processes and inviting people in. Belonging is what a person feels as a result. You can be formally included and still not feel you belong, which is why belonging is the truer measure of whether a culture is working.', }, { Q: 'How do you build a culture of belonging?', A: 'Belonging is built through everyday behaviours rather than one-off events: inclusive leadership, psychological safety, fair and transparent processes, visible role models, and small consistent signals that people are valued. It is led from the top and reinforced by managers in daily interactions.', }, { Q: 'How do you measure belonging?', A: 'Measure it through how people answer questions like “Can I be myself here?”, “Does my voice count?” and “Would I recommend this as a place to work?” — tracked over time and segmented by group, alongside retention, promotion equity and engagement data so you can see where belonging is strong and where it is missing.', }, --- ### Neuroinclusion at work https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/neuroinclusion-at-work Neuroinclusion is the active practice of designing how you work — your communication, your environment, your processes and your culture — so that people whose brains work differently can do their best work as themselves. Neurodivergent is simply an umbrella term: it includes colleagues who are autistic or have ADHD, dyslexia, dyspraxia, Tourette’s and more. The point isn’t the labels. It’s removing the friction that stops brilliant people contributing what they’re brilliant at. Roughly one in five people is neurodivergent in some way, which means every team already has neurodivergent talent — whether anyone has said so or not. The question is never whether you work alongside neurodivergent colleagues. It’s whether the way you work lets them thrive, or quietly asks them to spend their energy masking and coping instead. This is the same principle that runs through all my work: conscious inclusion — because if we’re not consciously including, by default we may be unconsciously excluding. The barriers are well documented — and measurable. The government’s 2024 Buckland Review found only around 3 in 10 working-age autistic people are in employment, against roughly 8 in 10 non-disabled people — the widest employment gap of any disability group. For those in work, the CIPD’s 2024 Neuroinclusion at Work research found one in five neurodivergent employees had faced harassment or discrimination because of their neurodivergence; and Acas reported in 2026 — rarely this blunt — that just 32% of workers think their employer trains managers effectively to make reasonable adjustments. The barriers are real; so is the fix. (Sources and more UK figures on my facts & figures page.) Design for the edges and everyone benefits When you design a process for the “average” person, you build in friction for anyone who doesn’t match that template — and you make life harder for plenty of so-called typical people too. Design for the edges instead, and the benefit spreads. Captions help a Deaf colleague and the person on a noisy train. A clear written brief helps a dyslexic colleague and everyone who was only half-listening in the meeting. A quiet space helps an autistic colleague and anyone trying to concentrate. Neuroinclusion is rarely about special treatment; it’s about good design that happens to include more people. That’s the heart of inclusion by design . The six places neuroinclusion shows up When you take an honest look at how neuroinclusive you are, it tends to show up in six everyday places. None of them need a grand policy overhaul. All of them respond to small, consistent changes. 1. Awareness — beyond the stereotypes Most people’s picture of neurodivergence is built from a handful of stereotypes. Real awareness means knowing that two autistic people can be nothing alike, that ADHD isn’t just “fidgety”, that dyslexia isn’t about intelligence, and that plenty of colleagues are neurodivergent and have never said so. Awareness isn’t about becoming an expert in anyone’s condition — that’s their business, not yours. It’s about dropping the assumptions so you can see the person. 2. Communication — clear, flexible, multi-channel So much exclusion hides in how we communicate. Information that only ever lands verbally, on the spot, with no warning and no written follow-up, sets up anyone who processes differently to miss things. Inclusive communication offers more than one way in: agendas ahead of time, written summaries after, the option to contribute in chat or in writing rather than only out loud, and direct language instead of hint and innuendo. This is also the spine of running inclusive meetings . 3. Environment — sensory comfort and focus Open-plan noise, harsh lighting, strong smells, constant interruption — these aren’t minor irritations for many neurodivergent colleagues; they’re a tax on concentration that builds all day. Small adjustments go a long way: a quieter corner, permission to wear headphones, control over a desk light, the freedom to step out and reset. You don’t need to redesign the building. You need to stop treating one sensory setup as the only acceptable one. 4. Flexibility — ways of working, not just hours Flexibility is more than flexi-time. It’s flexibility in how work gets done and how it’s judged. Some people do their best thinking early, some late. Some need a deadline and silence; others need momentum and a body double. Judging people on output and contribution — rather than on whether they work the way you’d work — is one of the most powerful neuroinclusive moves there is. This is equity, not equality : giving people what they need to do great work, not identical conditions that suit some and trip up others. 5. Strengths focus — talent, not deficits to fix This is the one I’d underline twice. Neurodivergence is too often framed as a list of difficulties to be managed. Flip it. Many neurodivergent colleagues bring pattern recognition, deep focus, creative problem-solving, honesty, hyperfocus, big-picture thinking or relentless attention to detail that a team would be poorer without. Lead with “what is this person brilliant at, and what gets in the way of them showing it?” The adjustment you land on is often identical to the deficit-framed version — but the story you tell, and the trust you build, are worlds apart. Strengths-based inclusion is how you move people from coping to contributing, and it sits right alongside building a culture of belonging . 6. Safety to disclose — feeling able to ask None of the above works if people don’t feel safe enough to ask for it. Plenty of neurodivergent colleagues stay quiet because they’ve learned that disclosing can mean being doubted, pitied or quietly passed over. The fix isn’t a form; it’s a climate. Make it ordinary and explicit that asking for what you need is welcome and never held against anyone — and then prove it by responding well, every time. That’s psychological safety at work doing its job: when it’s safe to ask, people stop masking and start bringing their whole, capable selves. Ask, don’t assume If you remember one thing, make it this. There is no checklist that works for everyone, because two people with the same label can have completely different needs. The most inclusive thing you can do is ask a genuine, low-key question — “What helps you do your best work?” — act on the answer, and make it easy to ask again. Don’t guess. Don’t medicalise. Don’t treat a colleague as a problem to solve. Start from what they bring, and build the rest around them. Where do you stand right now? If you’d like an honest, two-minute snapshot of how well you currently include and get the best from neurodivergent colleagues — across all six of these areas — take the free self-check. It’s not a test and it’s not about being perfect; it’s a clear picture of where you’re already doing well and where there’s room to grow. Take the free “How neuroinclusive are you?” self-check → And if you want to build neuroinclusion into the fabric of how your organisation works — not as a one-off training but as everyday practice — that’s exactly the kind of work I do with leaders and teams. You can hear these ideas explored on the Inclusion Bites podcast , or read more across the guides library . ## Common questions { Q: 'What is neuroinclusion at work?', A: 'Neuroinclusion is designing the way you work — your communication, your environment, your processes and your culture — so that neurodivergent colleagues (people whose brains work differently, such as those who are autistic or have ADHD, dyslexia, dyspraxia or Tourette’s) can do their best work as themselves. It is not about labels or fixing anyone; it is about removing the friction that gets in the way of people contributing what they’re brilliant at.', }, { Q: 'How do I support a neurodivergent colleague without making assumptions?', A: 'Ask, don’t assume. Two people with the same label can have completely different needs, so the most inclusive question is a simple, genuine one: “What helps you do your best work?” Then act on what you hear, and make it safe to ask again. Avoid guessing, avoid medicalising, and never frame a colleague as a problem to be managed — start from what they bring.', }, { Q: 'Why is a strengths-based approach better than focusing on deficits?', A: 'Deficit-framing asks “what’s wrong and how do we manage it?” — which keeps people coping rather than contributing, and gives them every reason to mask. A strengths-based approach asks “what is this person brilliant at, and what gets in the way of them showing it?” The adjustments are often the same; the story is completely different. Lead with strengths and you build trust, reduce masking, and get far better work.', }, --- ### AI, belonging & the future of work https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/ai-belonging-and-the-future-of-work Every conversation about AI seems to swing between hype and doom — either it will solve everything or it will take all the jobs. Both miss the point. The more useful question for leaders is quieter and more human: as AI reshapes how we work, what happens to belonging, trust and the experience of being a person at work? That’s a leadership and culture question, not a technology one. AI and the future of work isn’t mainly a technology story — it’s a leadership and culture one. As AI in the workplace automates tasks, summarises information and speeds up decisions, the deciding question is whether people end up more included or more left behind. Keep humans at the centre and AI becomes an inclusion enabler; optimise for efficiency alone and it quietly erodes belonging. What AI is really changing about work AI is changing the texture of everyday work — what we spend time on, how decisions get made, who has access to expertise, and how performance is measured. Tasks are being automated, information is being summarised, and the pace of change is accelerating. None of that is neutral. Each shift carries a choice about whether people end up more empowered or more anxious, more included or more left behind. The risk: where AI erodes belonging Bias at scale. Trained on the past, AI can quietly automate yesterday’s discrimination into thousands of decisions a day. Surveillance over trust. Monitoring and productivity scoring tell people they’re not trusted — and trust is the foundation of belonging. Dehumanisation. When people are managed by dashboards and algorithms, work starts to feel transactional and cold. A new digital divide. Those who are confident with AI race ahead; those who aren’t — often already underrepresented — get left further behind. The opportunity: AI as an inclusion enabler Used with intent, AI can remove barriers that have excluded people for years: Accessibility. Live captions, transcription, text-to-speech and assistive tools open doors for disabled and neurodivergent colleagues. Levelling the field. Drafting and language support help people whose first language isn’t English, or who find writing hard, contribute on equal terms. Fairer processes. Thoughtfully designed and audited, AI can help strip bias out of recruitment and decision-making rather than baking it in. More time for humans. Taking the drudgery off people frees them for connection, creativity and judgement — the work only humans can do. What inclusive leaders do now The organisations that get this right treat AI as a leadership challenge with a few clear principles: Be transparent about where and why AI is used — secrecy breeds fear. Keep a human in the loop for any decision that materially affects a person. Involve diverse voices in designing and testing, so blind spots get caught early. Audit for bias continuously, not once. Reskill with dignity — bring people with you rather than quietly displacing them. Keeping humans at the centre Technology will keep changing; what shouldn’t change is the commitment to people feeling seen, valued and safe. The future of work isn’t human or machine — it’s humans, better supported, doing more of what matters. Leaders who hold that line will build organisations that are not only more productive, but more inclusive and more human. The keynote Joanne’s flagship keynote, “AI, Belonging and the Human Future of Work” , explores all of this — grounded in her hands-on AI work, so it’s neither hype nor doom. It’s a practical, hopeful look at how to keep humans at the centre as work changes. Hear related conversations on the Inclusion Bites podcast or read more guides . ## Common questions { Q: 'How does AI affect workplace inclusion and belonging?', A: 'AI can cut both ways. Used carelessly it scales bias, increases surveillance and makes work feel less human, eroding belonging. Used well it removes barriers — assistive tech, plain-language support, fairer processes — and frees people for the human work machines can’t do. The outcome depends on the choices leaders make, not the technology itself.', }, { Q: 'Will AI make work less human?', A: 'Only if we let it. The real risk isn’t robots replacing people; it’s organisations optimising for efficiency and forgetting belonging, trust and meaning. The opportunity is to use AI to take the drudgery off humans so they can spend more time on connection, creativity and judgement — the things that make work human.', }, { Q: 'How can leaders adopt AI inclusively?', A: 'Be transparent about where and why AI is used; keep a human in the loop for decisions that affect people; involve a diverse range of voices in design and testing; actively check for bias; and reskill people with dignity rather than displacing them quietly. Inclusion has to be designed in from the start, not bolted on later.', }, { Q: 'How is AI changing the workplace?', A: 'AI in the workplace is automating routine tasks, summarising information, reshaping how decisions get made and changing how performance is measured. The pace is fast and uneven — so the leadership job is to manage the human side: who gets access, whose work is valued, and whether people feel more empowered or more anxious as it rolls out.', }, { Q: 'What does AI mean for the future of work?', A: 'The future of work isn’t humans versus machines — it’s humans, better supported, doing more of what only people can do: connection, creativity and judgement. AI handles more of the drudgery, but the value, trust and belonging still come from people. Whether that future is inclusive depends on the choices leaders make now.', }, --- ### Beyond the DEI acronym https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/beyond-the-dei-acronym Few three-letter strings carry as much baggage as “DEI”. For some it’s a badge of honour, for others a red rag — and for a lot of ordinary people it’s simply confusing. Somewhere along the way the acronym stopped describing the work and started getting in the way of it. “I don’t like using the acronym DEI because it has been bastardised. But when I say the words — diversity, when I say difference — that’s when people understand what I actually mean.” — Joanne Lockwood, Inclusion Bites (“Equity by Design”) How the acronym got bastardised DEI became shorthand — then a slogan, then a political football. Each new letter (an E for equity here, a J for justice there) made it more precise for insiders and more alienating for everyone else. People end up arguing about the abbreviation instead of the human ideas underneath it. As Joanne puts it, the acronym confuses the layperson — and you can’t build an inclusive culture with language that shuts people out. Say the words The fix is to use plain, human language: Diversity — the mix of differences people bring. Difference — the simple truth that none of us are the same, and that’s a strength. Equity — fairness; recognising people don’t all start from the same place. Inclusion — making sure everyone can take part. Belonging — how people feel when all of the above is working. Say those words and people nod — they recognise them from their own lives. Say “DEI” and half the room has already decided what you mean before you’ve finished the sentence. Why plain language wins Plain language depoliticises the conversation and brings the layperson in — the well-meaning majority who want to do the right thing but feel locked out of the jargon. It keeps the focus on people, not policy. It’s exactly why Joanne frames her whole approach around Positive People Experiences rather than defending a set of initials: lead with what people feel, not what the acronym says. Make it human in your organisation Whether you call it DEI or not, the work is the same — and it lands far better in plain, human terms. That’s how Joanne approaches every keynote and workshop. Explore Diversity, Equity & Inclusion and Inclusive Culture & Belonging , or hear the thinking on the Inclusion Bites podcast . ## Common questions { Q: 'Why doesn’t Joanne use the term “DEI”?', A: 'Because the acronym has been bastardised — turned into a political football and a piece of jargon that confuses the layperson. Joanne prefers to say the actual words — diversity, difference, equity, inclusion, belonging — so people can connect with what they really mean, rather than reacting to three letters.', }, { Q: 'What’s the difference between diversity, equity, inclusion and belonging?', A: 'Diversity is the mix of differences people bring. Equity is fairness — adjusting for the fact that people don’t start from the same place. Inclusion is making sure everyone can take part. Belonging is how people feel as a result: accepted and valued for who they are.', }, { Q: 'Has DEI failed, or is DEI dead?', A: 'The label is under fire, but the human need behind it hasn’t changed — people still want to be treated fairly and to belong. The work isn’t dead; it just needs framing people can connect with. That’s why Joanne talks about Positive People Experiences rather than defending an acronym.', }, --- ### You can’t be what you can’t see https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/you-cant-be-what-you-cant-see It’s an old adage, but it endures because it’s true: you can’t be what you can’t see . We build a sense of what’s possible for us from the examples around us. When those examples never include someone like us, the message — however unintended — is that this place, this role, this future, probably isn’t for people like me. “It’s the old adage, isn’t it? You can’t be what you can’t see. So if you don’t see the representation, you can end up feeling lost, feeling unseen.” — Joanne Lockwood, Inclusion Bites (“Mirrors and Doorways”) Why representation matters Representation does two quiet but powerful things. It signals possibility — “someone like me has done this, so I could too.” And it signals belonging — “people like me are welcome here.” Role models, visible leaders and diverse panels aren’t window dressing; they’re proof. They turn an abstract “you’re welcome” into something people can actually see. The cost of invisibility The flip side is real and often invisible to those who’ve never experienced it. When you don’t see yourself reflected, you can feel lost and unseen — and you spend energy wondering whether you fit, instead of doing your best work. Talented people opt out of paths that were technically open to them, simply because no one signalled that the door was for them. Representation is not tokenism Putting one person from an underrepresented group in the brochure isn’t representation — it’s decoration, and people see straight through it. Genuine representation has depth: people present at every level, able to be themselves and to occupy the space fully rather than perform a part. The goal isn’t to exhibit people; it’s for them to belong . What leaders can do Make role models visible. Share diverse stories, speakers and case studies — internally and externally. Mind the platform. Diverse panels, authors and decision-makers, not the same few faces. Sponsor, don’t just admire. Open doors for people who don’t yet see themselves at the next level. Create the mirrors and the doorways. Mirrors so people see themselves; doorways so they can walk through. Bring it to your organisation As a visible role model herself, Joanne speaks to exactly this — why representation matters and how to make it real rather than performative. Explore LGBTQIA+ Inclusion & Pride and Inclusive Culture & Belonging , or hear the stories on the Inclusion Bites podcast . ## Common questions { Q: 'What does “you can’t be what you can’t see” mean?', A: 'It means people find it far harder to imagine a future for themselves that they’ve never seen anyone like them achieve. When you don’t see your identity, background or experience reflected in role models and leaders, ambition quietly shrinks — not because the talent isn’t there, but because the example isn’t.', }, { Q: 'Why does representation matter at work?', A: 'Representation signals possibility and belonging. Seeing people like you succeed tells you that you can too, that you’re welcome, and that the path is open. Its absence does the opposite — it leaves people feeling unseen, lost and unsure they belong, however capable they are.', }, { Q: 'Isn’t representation just tokenism?', A: 'Tokenism is putting one person in the picture and calling it done. Real representation is depth and authenticity — people present at every level, able to be themselves and to occupy the space fully, not just to tick a box. The aim is for people to belong, not to be exhibits.', }, --- ### Equity, not equality https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/equity-not-equality “We treat everyone the same here” is usually said with pride. But sameness and fairness aren’t the same thing. If people are starting from different places — with different barriers, histories and access — then identical treatment quietly locks in the gaps that were already there. Equity is the move from same to fair . What’s the difference between equity and equality? Equality means giving everyone the same thing. Equity means giving everyone what they each need to reach the same starting line — because people don’t all begin from the same place. Equality treats everyone identically; equity treats everyone fairly . Equality Equity Everyone gets the same thing Everyone gets what they need Treats everyone identically Addresses the reality of difference Assumes a level playing field Works to create one Equal treatment Fair outcomes The well-known equity vs equality cartoon — three people of different heights trying to watch a game over a fence — captures it: equality gives each the same box to stand on; equity gives each the number of boxes they actually need to see over. Picture a race instead: equality hands everyone identical running shoes; equity notices that some are starting metres back, some are carrying weights, and some are running on a track full of hurdles — and does something about it. Only then does the result actually tell you anything about merit. We’re running different races The barriers people face are real, and many are invisible to those who don’t share them. The colleague who never speaks up in meetings, the candidate whose CV has a gap, the parent who can’t make the 8am call — what looks like a lack of merit is often a track full of obstacles only some people can see. Equity is the discipline of looking for those obstacles and removing them, rather than blaming people for tripping over them. The myth of pure meritocracy Meritocracy is a lovely idea: the best rise on their merits. The problem is that it assumes a level field that rarely exists. When the starting lines are unequal, “the best person for the job” quietly becomes “the person most like the people already in charge”. Believing the field is level when it isn’t doesn’t remove bias — it just hides it. Equity is what makes merit meaningful. The unequal starting lines show up in the pay data. Professionals from working-class backgrounds are paid on average £6,287 (12%) less a year than colleagues from professional-managerial backgrounds doing the same jobs — rising to nearly £7,800 in the private sector. It is the gap almost nobody measures, and a clean illustration of the point: same role, same merit, different outcome, because the race was never run from the same line. Equity is the work of noticing that and correcting for it. (Sources on my facts & figures page.) What equity looks like in practice Remove barriers. Accessible processes, flexible working, and reasonable adjustments as standard, not as favours. Open fair routes in. Reduce reliance on networks and “culture fit”; widen who gets to apply, be seen and progress. Check decisions for bias. Look at who gets hired, promoted and sponsored — and notice the patterns. Adjust, don’t lower. Equity isn’t about dropping the bar; it’s about making sure everyone can reach it. Equity builds belonging Fairness is felt. When people see that the system flexes to meet real need rather than rewarding whoever started ahead, they trust it — and trust is the soil that belonging grows in. Explore Diversity, Equity & Inclusion or hear these ideas explored on the Inclusion Bites podcast . ## Common questions { Q: 'What is the difference between equality and equity?', A: 'Equality means giving everyone the same thing. Equity means giving people what they each need to reach the same starting line — because they don’t all begin from the same place. Equality treats the symptoms of the same; equity addresses the reality of difference.', }, { Q: 'Is meritocracy a myth?', A: 'Pure meritocracy assumes everyone is running the same race on the same track — but in reality people face very different obstacles, many of them invisible to those who don’t share them. Merit matters, but it can only be judged fairly once the playing field is genuinely level.', }, { Q: 'What does equity look like at work?', A: 'It looks like removing barriers and making adjustments so people can compete and contribute on fair terms: accessible processes, flexible working, reasonable adjustments, fair routes into opportunity, and decisions checked for bias. The aim is fair outcomes, not identical treatment.', }, --- ### Inclusion doesn’t just happen https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/inclusion-doesnt-just-happen Plenty of organisations are waiting for inclusion to arrive — as if hiring a more diverse team, or running a workshop, will set it in motion on its own. It won’t. Culture has a gravity, and left unchecked it pulls towards the familiar: the loudest voices, the usual faces, the people most like those already in charge. Inclusion is what happens when you deliberately push against that drift. Why it won’t happen by itself Defaults are powerful. The meeting naturally hands airtime to the confident. The promotion naturally favours the visible. The “culture fit” naturally rewards sameness. None of this requires bad people — just the absence of intention. That’s why diversity without deliberate inclusion so often stalls: you’ve changed who’s in the room without changing who gets heard. Good intentions aren’t enough Almost everyone means well. But meaning well is not the same as doing the work. Intentional inclusion is the difference between hoping people feel they belong and designing for it — building fairness into processes, naming who is accountable, and practising the everyday behaviours that make people feel valued. Intentions are how you feel; intention is what you do. Use your privilege to build pathways One of the most powerful things anyone with influence can do is spend it on others — opening doors, creating opportunities, and building routes to mastery for people who were never offered them. Inclusion that lasts isn’t charity; it’s leaders consciously using their position to widen the path behind them. From statement to system Set the tone from the top — and model it, visibly and consistently. Build it into processes — recruitment, progression, meetings, decisions. Measure belonging — track how people actually feel, by group, over time. Hold people accountable — what’s expected, owned and reviewed gets done. Keep going — inclusion is a practice, not a project with an end date. Make it intentional in your organisation The good news: because inclusion is the result of choices, it’s within your control. That’s the work Joanne does with leaders and teams — turning intention into the systems and habits that make inclusion real. Explore Inclusive Leadership & Engagement and #PositivePeopleExperiences , or hear more on the Inclusion Bites podcast . ## Common questions { Q: 'Does inclusion happen naturally?', A: 'No. Left to its own devices, a culture drifts towards the comfortable default — the loudest voices and the people most like those already in charge. Inclusion is the result of deliberate choices; without intention, exclusion quietly persists.', }, { Q: 'What is the difference between good intentions and intentional inclusion?', A: 'Almost everyone has good intentions. Intentional inclusion turns those intentions into action — designed processes, named accountability, and everyday behaviours that are actually practised. Intentions are how you feel; intention is what you do.', }, { Q: 'How do leaders make inclusion happen?', A: 'By treating it as core business, not a side project: setting the tone from the top, building fairness into processes, measuring belonging, holding people accountable, and using their own privilege to create opportunities for others rather than leaving it to chance.', }, --- ### What is inclusive leadership? https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/what-is-inclusive-leadership Inclusive leadership is leading in a way that makes every person feel they belong, can contribute and can do their best work — regardless of background or difference. It’s less about policy and more about everyday behaviour: how you listen, decide, share credit and use your power. Done well, inclusion stops being an initiative and becomes simply how the team works. What inclusive leadership really means Most organisations don’t have an inclusion problem on paper — they have policies, values and good intentions. Where it breaks down is in the day-to-day: who gets heard, who gets the opportunity, who feels safe to speak. That’s leadership’s gift to give or withhold. Inclusive leadership is the discipline of using your influence so that difference becomes a strength rather than a thing people have to overcome. The behaviours of inclusive leaders Self-awareness. They know their own biases and blind spots, and check them rather than defend them. Listening over broadcasting. They ask before they tell, and make space for quieter and different voices. Fairness in the small things. They watch who gets the stretch work, the credit and the airtime — and even it out. Curiosity when challenged. They treat being wrong as information, not a threat. Courage. They name and address exclusion when they see it, instead of hoping it passes. Examples of inclusive leadership It shows up in ordinary moments, not grand gestures: Running a meeting so the loudest voice doesn’t win by default. Asking for input before you state your own view, so people aren’t anchored to it. Adjusting a process so disabled and neurodivergent colleagues can take part fully. Sponsoring someone who doesn’t look or sound like you — and saying their name in rooms they’re not in. Responding to a mistake with curiosity and repair rather than blame. Inclusive leadership and diversity Diversity is who is in the room; inclusion is whether they can truly take part; inclusive leadership is what turns one into the other. You can recruit for diversity all you like, but without inclusive leaders the talent you worked hard to attract quietly disengages and leaves. Leadership is the multiplier that makes diversity actually pay off — which is why “DEI leadership” is really just good leadership, done consciously. The evidence backs the multiplier. McKinsey’s 2023 Diversity Matters Even More study of more than 1,200 companies found those in the top quartile for executive-team gender diversity were 39% more likely to financially outperform their bottom-quartile peers — the same likelihood held for ethnic representation. Yet the CIPD reported in 2025 that just 23% of UK organisations train line managers in fair and inclusive people management: the exact layer where inclusion succeeds or fails. The will is usually there; the manager capability, mostly, is not. (Dated sources on my facts & figures page.) How to lead more inclusively I work with leaders by the mantra Smile · Engage · Educate : how you say something matters as much as what you say. Inclusive leadership isn’t about having every answer or never getting it wrong — it’s about creating the conditions where people feel safe enough to bring their whole selves, and trusted enough to do their best work. That’s the heart of #PositivePeopleExperiences : inclusion built one positive interaction at a time. Take it further Explore the keynote Inclusive Leadership & Engagement , read more guides , or hear these ideas explored on the Inclusion Bites podcast . ## Common questions { Q: 'What is inclusive leadership?', A: 'Inclusive leadership is leading in a way that makes every person feel they belong, can contribute and can do their best work — regardless of background or difference. It’s less about policy and more about everyday behaviour: how a leader listens, decides, shares credit, handles disagreement and uses their power. Done well, inclusion stops being an initiative and becomes simply how the team works.', }, { Q: 'What are the behaviours of an inclusive leader?', A: 'Inclusive leaders are self-aware about their own bias; they listen more than they broadcast; they make space for quieter and different voices; they’re curious rather than defensive when challenged; they’re consistent and fair in how they allocate work, credit and opportunity; and they have the courage to name and address exclusion when they see it.', }, { Q: 'What are examples of inclusive leadership at work?', A: 'Running meetings so the loudest voice doesn’t win by default; checking who gets the stretch assignments and who gets overlooked; asking for input before stating your own view; adjusting processes so disabled and neurodivergent colleagues can take part fully; sponsoring people who don’t look or sound like you; and responding to a mistake with curiosity and repair rather than blame.', }, { Q: 'How do inclusive leadership and diversity connect?', A: 'Diversity is who is in the room; inclusion is whether they can truly take part; inclusive leadership is what turns one into the other. You can hire for diversity, but without inclusive leaders, diverse talent disengages and leaves. Leadership is the multiplier that makes diversity actually pay off.', }, --- ### Why book an accredited speaker? https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/why-book-an-accredited-speaker An accredited speaker has been independently assessed and recognised by a professional body against a published standard — for the craft of speaking, for their professional field, or for the learning value of their content. It’s awarded by a third party, not self-declared. That’s the difference between a credible signal and a marketing line. Why it matters when you’re booking Booking a speaker is a leap of faith. You’re putting your audience, your agenda and your reputation in someone’s hands for an hour — often before you’ve seen them live. Titles like “keynote speaker” are self-applied; accreditation is external proof that someone has met a standard set by their peers. It lowers the chance of an under-rehearsed, off-brand or tone-deaf session, and it tells you the person takes the craft seriously. What the accreditations actually signal Fellow of the Professional Speaking Association (FPSA) — the UK & Ireland professional body for expert speakers. Fellowship is its highest grade, recognising sustained skill and contribution to the speaking profession. Fellow of the Institute of Equality & Diversity Professionals (FIEDP) — recognition from the professional body for EDI practitioners, signalling expertise and a commitment to ethical, evidence-based practice in the field. Accredited Speaker, The CPD Standards Office — content independently assessed for structured learning value, so your delegates can log the time as continuing professional development. Fellow of the Royal Society of Arts (FRSA) — fellowship recognising contribution to social progress. What the process involves Accreditation isn’t a badge you buy. Depending on the body it means peer assessment, evidence of real-world practice and results, references, a commitment to a code of conduct, and — crucially — ongoing professional development to keep it. It’s designed to be earned and maintained, which is exactly what makes it worth something to you. Why you should care Lower risk. Someone independent has already vouched for the standard. Professionalism. Preparation, reliability and care for your brief come as standard. Delegate value. CPD-accredited content gives attendees something they can log and use. Standards & ethics. Especially in inclusion work, you want someone held to a professional code. My take I didn’t collect accreditations for the wall. They reflect a commitment to the craft of speaking and to the field of inclusion — and they mean that when you book me, you’re not taking my word for it alone. You can read the personal story behind them in why I’m proud to be accredited , or see them listed on my about page . ## Common questions { Q: 'What is an accredited speaker?', A: 'An accredited speaker has been independently assessed and recognised by a professional body against a published standard — for the craft of speaking, for their professional field, or for the learning value of their content. Accreditation is awarded by a third party, not self-declared, which is what makes it a credible signal rather than a marketing claim.', }, { Q: 'Why does speaker accreditation matter when booking?', A: 'It de-risks the decision. Anyone can call themselves a keynote speaker; accreditation is external proof of professionalism, standards and a track record. For organisers it means a lower chance of an under-rehearsed or off-brand session, and often tangible extras — like CPD-certifiable content your delegates can log.', }, { Q: 'What is a CPD accredited speaker?', A: 'A CPD accredited speaker delivers content that an independent body (such as The CPD Standards Office) has assessed for structured learning value. It means delegates can count time in the session towards their continuing professional development — useful for regulated professions and a sign the content is designed to teach, not just entertain.', }, --- ### Why I’m proud to be accredited https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/proud-to-be-accredited I’ll be honest: I used to be a little sceptical of post-nominals. Then I went through the work of earning a few, and my view changed. Accreditation, done properly, isn’t decoration — it’s accountability. It’s me saying “hold me to a standard,” and someone independent agreeing that I meet it. Here’s why I’m genuinely proud of mine. Fellow of the Professional Speaking Association The PSA is the home of professional speakers in the UK and Ireland, and Fellowship (FPSA) is its highest grade. It matters to me because speaking is a craft — not just having something to say, but knowing how to land it so a room actually changes. Being recognised by the people who do this for a living, who know how hard the good stuff is to make look easy, means a great deal. It’s a reminder that I owe every audience my preparation, not just my passion. Fellow of the Institute of Equality & Diversity Professionals Inclusion work attracts a lot of opinion and not always enough rigour. The IEDP is the professional body that holds this field to a standard — ethics, evidence, practice. Being a Fellow says I’m not freelancing my values into a vacuum; I’m part of a profession with a code and a community. In a space where trust is everything, and where the stakes for getting it wrong are real people, that accountability matters to me — and it should matter to anyone who hires in this area. The worthwhile effort of CPD accreditation The CPD Standards Office accreditation was the one that took the most graft — and taught me the most. To have content recognised as genuine continuing professional development, you have to show your working: clear learning outcomes, real structure, evidence of what people take away and apply. It made me a better designer of sessions, not just a deliverer of them. And it gives the people in the room something concrete — time they can log, learning they can prove. That’s effort I’m glad I put in, because the benefit lands with them . Why I bother All of this comes back to the same belief that runs through my work: #PositivePeopleExperiences , delivered with care — Smile · Engage · Educate. Accreditation is how I keep myself honest about the “educate” part. It’s a promise that the warmth comes with substance, and that when you invite me into your event, you’re getting someone who takes both you and the craft seriously. If you’re weighing up who to book, you might also find why book an accredited speaker useful. ## Common questions { Q: 'What does it take to become a Fellow of the Professional Speaking Association?', A: 'Fellowship (FPSA) is the highest grade of the Professional Speaking Association UK & Ireland. It isn’t bought or automatic — it’s earned through sustained professional speaking, demonstrable skill and contribution to the speaking community, and recognised by your peers in the profession.', }, { Q: 'Why does CPD Standards Office accreditation take effort?', A: 'Because the content is independently assessed for genuine learning value — clear outcomes, structure and the ability to evidence what delegates take away — and it has to be maintained, not awarded once. That rigour is the whole point: it’s why delegates can log the time as CPD with confidence.', }, --- ### Inclusion vs belonging https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/inclusion-vs-belonging Inclusion is being allowed in — having a seat at the table, getting the invite, being part of the group. Belonging is the feeling that comes when you're not just allowed, but genuinely valued and celebrated for who you are. Inclusion is what an organisation does; belonging is how the individual feels as a result. The gap between the two is where most culture work happens. Why the distinction matters Many organisations genuinely believe they've cracked inclusion. They have policies, ERGs, diversity targets and a well-meaning values statement on the wall. Yet people still walk in each day feeling like they're wearing a jacket that doesn't quite fit. That's the inclusion–belonging gap in practice. As Joanne puts it, "inclusion and belonging are feelings" — they're not boxes you tick, they're experiences people carry with them. And if people don't feel them, no amount of policy will close the gap. The alone vs lonely metaphor One of the clearest ways to grasp the difference is through the distinction between being alone and being lonely. You can be alone — physically by yourself — and feel perfectly content, connected, at peace. You can also be lonely in a room full of people: surrounded by colleagues, invited to every meeting, yet somehow on the outside of something you can't quite name. Joanne uses exactly this image when talking about inclusion and belonging: "I can be lonely in a room full of people." Inclusion gets you into the room. Belonging is what determines whether you feel at home once you're there. Belonging is the level above inclusion Think of it as a progression. At the bottom, you might be excluded outright — invisible, unwelcome, actively pushed out. A step up and you're tolerated: you're present, but only just. Then comes inclusion: you're part of things, your voice is heard, the processes work for you. But belonging sits above all of that. Belonging, in Joanne's words, is when "I feel aligned, I feel valued, I'm celebrated — not just allowed." It's the difference between an organisation that makes space for you and one that actively wants you exactly as you are. Excluded: not in the room at all. Tolerated: present, but invisible or unwelcome. Included: part of the team; processes and policies work for you. Belonging: aligned, valued, celebrated — you can bring your whole self. The role of vision and values Belonging doesn't happen in a vacuum. It's grounded in an organisation's culture — and culture flows from clarity of purpose and values. Joanne is direct about this: when talking about inclusion and belonging in organisations, she often returns to the idea of "having clearly defined vision and values for the organisation so that you can then align your own self with those visions and values, or not." That "or not" is important. Belonging isn't something you can mandate. Some people will find deep alignment with an organisation's culture; others won't — and that's honest. What matters is that the culture is real and clearly communicated, so people can genuinely connect with it rather than performing compliance. Explore building a culture of belonging for more on putting this into practice. Inclusion without belonging — the hidden cost When people are included on paper but don't feel they belong, the costs are real but hard to see. Engagement quietly drops. Talent that was hard to attract starts to drift away. People stay, but they hold back — code-switching, second-guessing, wearing a mask. None of that shows up in a headcount figure. This is why inclusive recruitment alone is never enough. Bringing people in through an equitable door is a start, but if the culture they step into doesn't foster belonging, the work has only just begun. See also equity, not equality for the related question of what fairness actually looks like in practice. Making it personal The mantra Smile · Engage · Educate is at the heart of how Joanne approaches this work. Belonging is built — or broken — in ordinary moments: a greeting in the corridor, whether someone's idea gets credit, whether a meeting ends before the quiet person has had a chance to speak. Each of those moments is a chance to create a #PositivePeopleExperience, or to miss one. The Inclusive Leadership & Engagement keynote explores how leaders can deliberately build the conditions for belonging — not as a side project, but as the way they work. You can also explore more of these ideas on the{' '} Inclusion Bites podcast , where Joanne has unpacked the belonging question in conversations with guests across many different industries and backgrounds. Take it further Read the companion guide What is inclusive leadership? , browse all guides , or explore the topic of{' '} diversity and inclusion to see how these ideas connect. ## Common questions { Q: 'What is the difference between inclusion and belonging?', A: 'Inclusion is about being allowed in — being part of the team, getting the invite, having a seat at the table. Belonging is a feeling that goes a step further: it\'s when you feel aligned with the organisation\'s values, genuinely valued for who you are, and celebrated rather than merely tolerated. You can be included without belonging, just as you can be in a room full of people and still feel completely alone.', }, { Q: 'Can you be included but not feel like you belong?', A: 'Absolutely — and this is one of the most important distinctions in inclusion work. An organisation can tick every diversity and inclusion box on paper, yet individuals still walk in each day feeling like they\'re wearing clothes that don\'t quite fit. Inclusion is what the organisation does; belonging is how the individual feels as a result. The gap between the two is where culture work really matters.', }, { Q: 'How do you create a sense of belonging at work?', A: 'Belonging grows when an organisation has clearly defined vision and values — and actively invites people to align with them rather than demanding they simply comply. It requires leaders who listen, managers who notice who is thriving and who is quietly disengaging, and a culture where difference is celebrated rather than smoothed away. It\'s less about one-off initiatives and more about the quality of everyday interactions: each small positive exchange either builds belonging or quietly erodes it.', }, --- ### Strong opinions, weakly held https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/strong-opinions-weakly-held "Strong opinions, weakly held" is a phrase coined by forecaster Paul Saffo. It means: form a clear view, commit to it enough to act — but hold it loosely enough to update it when evidence, experience or another person's perspective shows you that you were wrong. The strength is in the quality of the thinking, not in defending the conclusion at all costs. Why most of us do the opposite We tend to etch our opinions in stone rather than in sand. Over time, a belief we formed — about people, about how the world works, about who deserves what — stops being an opinion and becomes part of our identity. And once it is part of who we are, we stop examining it. We defend it instead. As I often put it: we've become prisoners to our own beliefs, and we defend them. We fight for these beliefs. The very act of someone questioning our view starts to feel like an attack on us personally — which makes honest dialogue almost impossible. This is what confirmation bias does. We seek out information that proves us right, discount anything that doesn't, and surround ourselves with people who nod along. We aren't building a better understanding of the world; we're just reinforcing the walls of our own cell. Etch your views — don't carve them in stone Paul Saffo's insight is quietly radical: you don't have to abandon your views to be open. You are allowed your opinions — in fact, you should have them. But you don't carve them in stone; you etch them. The mark is clear, it's yours, but it can be revised. That distinction matters in inclusion work. Too often, people assume that being open to challenge means having no position at all — that curiosity and conviction are opposites. They're not. You can stand for something and still be willing to learn that you had part of it wrong. In fact, the most effective advocates I've encountered are the ones who changed their minds at some point along the way. Their conviction is stronger for it, not weaker. Go out believing you might be wrong The practical shift is this: go out to the world believing you're wrong, and try to prove you're wrong. Not in a self-flagellating way — but as a genuine act of intellectual curiosity. Before you declare your view in a meeting, a conversation or a debate, ask yourself: what would it take to change my mind? If the answer is "nothing", that's not a sign of strength. It's a sign you've stopped thinking. In inclusion terms, this is what it looks like to lean in rather than out. Leaning out is retreating into certainty, into the familiar, into "the way we've always done it". Leaning in is staying present with discomfort, asking the question you'd rather not ask, and sitting with the answer even when it's inconvenient. Intent, impact and the courage to update One of the places this shows up most sharply in inclusion work is the gap between intent and impact. Most people who cause harm don't intend to. They're operating from a belief system that made sense to them — perhaps always had — and they haven't yet encountered compelling enough evidence to revisit it. The question isn't whether they meant well. The question is what they do when the impact is pointed out to them. Holding opinions weakly is what makes accountability possible. If I'm so invested in my good intentions that I can't hear what effect my actions had, I cannot repair the harm and I cannot grow. But if I go in already prepared to be wrong — already curious rather than defensive — then hearing difficult feedback becomes information rather than attack. I can say "thank you for telling me", mean it, and do something different next time. Relax the grip. Notice when you feel your jaw tighten around a belief. That's the moment to get curious, not combative. Ask before you tell. Seek out perspectives that differ from yours — genuinely, not to rebut them. Separate the belief from the identity. You are not your opinion. Updating a view is not a defeat; it's evidence you're still thinking. Be accountable without being paralysed. When you get it wrong, acknowledge it, make amends where possible, and move forward. That's what #PositivePeopleExperiences looks like in practice. What this has to do with belonging Belonging — real belonging, not just the performative kind — requires people to feel they can bring an honest, sometimes uncomfortable truth into a space and not be punished for it. That can only happen if the people in that space are holding their views weakly enough to actually hear it. My mantra is Smile · Engage · Educate . Engaging means showing up to the conversation rather than the conclusion. It means being moved by what you encounter rather than armoured against it. Strong opinions, weakly held, is one of the most practical ways I know to do that — in a boardroom, in a classroom, or in any relationship that matters. Read more about what it looks like to build those conditions in Building a Culture of Belonging and What Is Inclusive Leadership? , or explore this theme further on the Inclusion Bites podcast . Take it further This idea sits at the heart of Inclusive Leadership & Engagement keynote and many of the conversations across the guides on this site . If you're ready to bring more of this thinking into your organisation — practically, honestly, and in a way that sticks — get in touch . ## Common questions { Q: 'What does "strong opinions, weakly held" mean?', A: '"Strong opinions, weakly held" is a phrase coined by forecaster Paul Saffo. It means you should form clear, well-reasoned views — but hold them loosely enough to update them when new evidence, experience or perspective shows you were wrong. The strength is in the thinking, not in defending the conclusion at all costs.', }, { Q: 'Why is "strong opinions, weakly held" important for inclusion?', A: 'Inclusion requires us to genuinely hear people whose experience differs from our own. If we are so wedded to our existing beliefs that we cannot update them, we cannot truly include anyone who challenges them. Relaxing the grip on our certainty is what makes space for other people\'s reality — and for our own growth.', }, { Q: 'How do I practise "strong opinions, weakly held" in real life?', A: 'Start by going into conversations believing you might be wrong, not just hoping to be confirmed right. Ask questions before you make statements. Notice when you feel defensive — that\'s usually a signal you\'ve moved from an opinion to an identity. When you encounter evidence that contradicts your view, treat it as useful information rather than a threat. Being willing to say "I was wrong about that" is one of the most inclusive things you can do.', }, --- ### Psychological safety at work https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/psychological-safety-at-work Psychological safety is the shared belief within a team that you can speak up, ask questions, admit mistakes or challenge the norm without fear of embarrassment, rejection or punishment. It is the foundation beneath every other inclusion effort — because psychological safety is what protects people as they go through the friction of difference. Why psychological safety matters for inclusion You can write the most inclusive policies in the world, but if people don't feel safe to use their voice, none of it lands. Psychological safety is the difference between a workplace that looks diverse on an org chart and one where diverse perspectives actually shape decisions. Without it, people self-censor, hide their identities and do just enough to get by. With it, they bring their creativity, challenge assumptions and do their best work. The evidence base here is unusually strong. Harvard professor Amy Edmondson — who defined team psychological safety in her 1999 research and later in The Fearless Organization — found that the best teams aren't the ones making the fewest mistakes; they're the ones safe enough to report and learn from them. And when Google studied more than a hundred of its own teams in Project Aristotle , psychological safety emerged as the single biggest differentiator of high-performing teams — mattering more than who was actually on them. As Joanne puts it: "psychological safety is really what protects you as you go through friction." Difference — of background, identity, perspective — creates friction. That friction is healthy when people feel held by trust; destructive when they don't. The 4 stages of psychological safety Joanne draws on Timothy Clark's four-stage model, which she describes as coming "in these sort of four stages, so inclusion safety — I can be myself." The stages build on each other: Stage 1 — Inclusion Safety. I belong here and can be myself. This is the baseline. Without it, everything else is performance. "Bring your whole self to work" is easy to say if you're already privileged — the leader's job is to make it genuinely possible for everyone. Stage 2 — Learner Safety. I can ask questions, make mistakes and grow without being ridiculed. Teams that never reach this stage stop learning and stop improving. Stage 3 — Contributor Safety. I can offer ideas and do meaningful work. People need to know their contribution matters before they'll invest fully. Stage 4 — Challenger Safety. I can question the status quo, raise concerns and disagree — even with people who have more power than me. This is where innovation lives, and where most organisations stall. Most organisations plateau at Stage 1 — they achieve a kind of surface belonging without ever unlocking the creative challenge that makes inclusion genuinely productive. The gap between Stages 1 and 4 is where leaders earn their keep. What being psychologically safe looks like — examples It's easier to recognise psychological safety in behaviour than in policy. In a team where people genuinely feel psychologically safe, you'll see things like: A junior voice corrects a senior assumption — and gets thanked, not punished. "I got that wrong" is said out loud, by leaders first, and met with "what do we change?" rather than "whose fault was that?" The chair asks for the counterargument before a decision is made — and waits for one. Questions like "can you explain that again?" happen freely, at every level. People share pronouns, health needs or caring responsibilities without calculating the career cost first. Silence in a meeting is treated as a warning sign, not as agreement. What erodes psychological safety Psychological safety is fragile. It erodes quickly when leaders — even unconsciously — signal that dissent is unwelcome, that mistakes will be weaponised, or that certain voices don't really count. Some telling signs: The same few people speak in every meeting; others go quiet or disengage. Concerns raised privately are never addressed — people learn that speaking up changes nothing. Mistakes are met with blame rather than curiosity, so people start hiding them instead of fixing them. The leadership team, or the dominant social group, all look and sound the same — a visible signal that difference is not genuinely valued. "That's how we've always done it" is treated as a complete answer to a challenge. How leaders build psychological safety Psychological safety is not a team-building exercise or an away-day outcome. It is a climate built slowly through consistent leadership behaviour — what Joanne calls the hygiene that has to be in place before motivation can flourish. Practical steps: Model vulnerability. Admit when you don't know, when you got something wrong, when you changed your mind. If the leader can do it, others feel they can too. Ask before you tell. State your own view last — not first — so people aren't anchored to your position before they've had a chance to think. Respond to mistakes with curiosity. "What can we learn?" opens learning. "Whose fault is this?" closes it. Actively invite dissent. Ask specifically for the counterargument, the concern, the thing nobody has said yet. Credit contributions publicly. People feel safe when their ideas are attributed to them and their efforts are acknowledged. Name exclusion when you see it. Interrupting a pattern — "I don't think we heard from everyone on that" — signals that you notice and that it matters. Psychological safety and belonging Joanne places psychological safety within a broader picture of belonging : it is the infrastructure beneath everything else. You can recruit for diversity and train for inclusive leadership , but if people don't feel safe to bring their whole selves, those investments deliver a fraction of their potential. The work of building psychological safety is, at its heart, the work of the Smile · Engage · Educate approach: every small interaction either builds or erodes the climate. Consistent warmth, genuine curiosity and the willingness to educate — and be educated — are what accumulate into #PositivePeopleExperiences over time. Take it further Wondering where your team stands? Take the free psychological safety & belonging self-check — a couple of minutes, no login. Hear this topic explored in depth on the Inclusion Bites podcast , or read related guides on inclusive leadership and building a culture of belonging . Joanne also covers psychological safety in her keynote on Inclusive Leadership & Engagement , and for schools and colleges in Belonging for Every Learner . ## Common questions { Q: 'What is psychological safety at work?', A: `Psychological safety at work is the shared belief that you can speak up, ask questions, admit mistakes or challenge ideas without fear of punishment or humiliation. It's not about being comfortable or conflict-free — it's about having enough trust that people will take interpersonal risks. When psychological safety is present, teams learn faster, innovate more and include everyone's thinking.`, }, { Q: 'How do leaders create psychological safety in their teams?', A: `Leaders create psychological safety by modelling vulnerability themselves — admitting when they don't know, inviting challenge and responding to mistakes with curiosity rather than blame. Practical steps include asking for input before stating your own view, publicly crediting contributions, calling out behaviour that silences people, and making it normal to say "I got that wrong." Trust is built in small moments, not grand gestures.`, }, { Q: 'What are the 4 stages of psychological safety?', A: `Timothy Clark's model describes four progressive stages: Inclusion Safety (I can be myself here), Learner Safety (I can ask questions and make mistakes), Contributor Safety (I can share my ideas and do meaningful work), and Challenger Safety (I can question the status quo without being penalised). Leaders need to help people move through all four — many organisations plateau at stage one and never unlock the rest.`, }, { Q: 'What does it mean to feel psychologically safe at work?', A: `Feeling psychologically safe means you can be yourself, ask a "silly" question, own a mistake or disagree with the room without bracing for embarrassment or payback. It doesn't mean work is comfortable or challenge-free — it means the risk of speaking honestly feels survivable. A quick test: when something goes wrong, do people say "here's what happened", or do they go quiet?`, }, { Q: 'What are some examples of psychological safety at work?', A: `Examples include: a junior team member correcting a senior colleague's assumption and being thanked for it; someone admitting a mistake in a retrospective and the conversation turning to "what do we change?" rather than blame; a chair asking for the counterargument before a decision is made; colleagues sharing pronouns, health needs or caring responsibilities without fear it will count against them; and people asking "can you explain that again?" without embarrassment, at every level.`, }, --- ### Emotional intelligence & inclusive leadership https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/emotional-intelligence-and-inclusion Emotional intelligence is the ability to recognise, understand and manage your own emotions — and to read and respond thoughtfully to the emotions of others. In an inclusion context it is the skill that turns policy into practice: it is what lets a leader sense who is struggling, who is holding back, and what the room actually needs in this moment. Why emotional intelligence is the foundation of inclusion Most exclusion isn't malicious — it's oblivious. People are talked over not because anyone intends harm but because the leader hasn't noticed it happening. Emotional intelligence closes that gap. As I often say when working with leadership teams, the first part of emotional intelligence is being self-aware: understanding how you are coming across and what effect your behaviour has on the people around you. Without that self-awareness, even the most progressive values stay locked in a slide deck. This matters because inclusive leadership is less about grand gestures and more about the quality of ordinary interactions. The tone you set in a one-to-one, the way you respond when someone pushes back, whether you stay present when a conversation gets uncomfortable — these are the moments that build or erode trust. The four pillars: self-awareness, empathy, self-regulation, social skill Self-awareness. Knowing your triggers, your blind spots and how you read to others. Recognise your own limitations and seek to develop your knowledge rather than defend what you already think you know. Empathy. It's recognising your own sense of self, your own interaction style, the needs of others, and starting to connect with a bit of compassion there. Empathy isn't about agreeing with everyone — it's about genuinely trying to understand their experience before forming a judgement. Self-regulation. Once we can self-reflect, analyse and regulate, we can start to build stronger relationships. That capacity to pause before reacting — especially under pressure — is what separates a leader who de-escalates from one who inflames. Social skill — reading the room. Picking up the body cues, the language of the person you are communicating with, noticing who has gone quiet and who has started to disengage. Then doing something with that information. How you say it matters as much as what you say This is central to my Smile · Engage · Educate approach. The same message, delivered with warmth and curiosity versus impatience and certainty, lands in completely different ways. Leaders who score high on technical knowledge but low on emotional intelligence often find that their messages are heard — but not trusted, and not acted on. The manner is the message. Build empathy and compassion. Listen to people. Truly listen to people. Be present for those conversations. Be interested and build environments of trust where people can speak up and feel safe. That is the practical day-to-day of emotionally intelligent leadership — and it is also the engine of a genuine culture of belonging . Curiosity as an inclusive habit Emotional intelligence isn't a fixed trait you either have or haven't got — it is a practice. One of the most powerful habits I see in inclusive leaders is curiosity: an orientation towards other people's experiences rather than their own. Show that humility. You don't have to be right. Be open to challenge, to collaboration, to learning that something you thought was fine was landing badly for someone else. That curiosity is also the antidote to what I see as one of the biggest anxieties in inclusion work: the fear of getting it wrong. Emotionally intelligent leaders understand that mistakes are inevitable — what matters is how you respond to them. With curiosity and repair, not defensiveness and blame. Hear more on this theme in the Inclusion Bites podcast , where I explore these ideas with guests from across the inclusion and leadership world. Emotional intelligence and psychological safety The Inclusive Leadership & Engagement keynote is, at its heart, about emotional intelligence. When leaders develop this capacity they create the conditions for psychological safety — the sense that it is safe to speak, to question, to be different. That safety is what unlocks discretionary effort, innovation and genuine belonging. It is the difference between a team that performs and a team that thrives. This connects directly to equity, not just equality : meeting people where they are, not where you expected them to be. Take it further Explore more on diversity and inclusion , read the guide on what inclusive leadership really means , or browse all guides for practical frameworks you can use straight away. ## Common questions { Q: 'What is emotional intelligence in leadership?', A: 'Emotional intelligence in leadership is the ability to recognise and manage your own emotions, read the emotional state of those around you, and respond in ways that build trust rather than erode it. For inclusive leaders it means noticing who is disengaging, who is nervous to speak, and who is being talked over — and doing something about it.', }, { Q: 'Why does emotional intelligence matter for inclusion?', A: 'Inclusion lives in everyday moments — a meeting, a one-to-one, a passing comment. Emotional intelligence is what lets a leader sense when someone feels excluded, adjust their tone, and create the kind of psychological safety where people genuinely bring their whole selves. Without it, even well-meaning policies stay abstract on paper.', }, { Q: 'Can emotional intelligence be developed?', A: 'Yes. Self-awareness, empathy and self-regulation are learnable habits, not fixed traits. The starting point is honest reflection: noticing how you come across, seeking feedback, and practising curiosity about others\' experiences before defaulting to your own frame of reference. Small, consistent shifts in behaviour compound over time.', }, --- ### Cultural intelligence (CQ) https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/cultural-intelligence Cultural intelligence (CQ) is the ability to work effectively with people who are different from you — across nationality, ethnicity, religion, generation, neurodivergence, identity and more. It is about becoming comfortable and competent in environments or communities that are not your own, and it starts with a simple but powerful thing: the drive to find out more. Why CQ is not the same as cultural awareness Most people have some degree of cultural awareness — a recognition that differences exist. Cultural intelligence is the next step: what you actually do with that awareness. It is the difference between knowing that people experience the world differently and genuinely being curious about how, then adapting how you show up in response. Awareness without CQ can still leave people feeling like they have to leave part of themselves at the door just to fit in. CQ is also broader than it first sounds. "Culture" here is not just nationality or ethnicity — it is any set of norms, values and expectations that shapes how a group of people behaves. A team with a long-tenured majority has a culture. A profession has a culture. A generation has a culture. Working across all of these well is what CQ is for. The drive: where CQ begins Cultural intelligence starts with the drive — your own desire to find out more, to get involved, to understand. Without that inner motivation, the rest is just technique with no engine behind it. In Joanne's work with leaders, this shows up as a deceptively simple practice: be curious about people, curious about what other people think, and be interested in each other's stories. That curiosity is not passive. It means asking questions rather than making assumptions. It means learning around what makes people happy, what makes people sad, the nuances of their identity, the language that works for them. It means noticing when your mental model of "normal" is really just your own experience, scaled up into a rule. What low CQ looks like in practice Low cultural intelligence is rarely malicious — it is usually just unexamined. It shows up as: Assuming everyone shares your communication preferences and adjusting nothing. Designing processes, meetings or socials around one cultural default without noticing. Treating someone's identity as a problem to manage rather than a perspective to learn from. Interpreting unfamiliar behaviour through your own cultural lens and getting it wrong. Staying in your comfort zone and calling it professionalism. None of this requires bad intentions. It just requires not yet having the tools — or the habit — to notice. Building cultural intelligence: four practical areas Drive. Cultivate genuine interest in people who are different from you. Find out about people and care about people. This is not a tick-box exercise; it is a disposition. Knowledge. Learn the basics of contexts different from your own — not to become an expert in every culture, but to have enough grounding to ask better questions and make fewer assumptions. Strategy. Before cross-cultural interactions, pause and plan. Whose norms will likely be in play? What might I be missing? What assumptions am I bringing? Action. Adapt in the moment — your communication style, your pace, the way you give or receive feedback — and stay curious when something lands differently than you expected. CQ, inclusion and belonging Cultural intelligence is one of the foundations of genuine inclusion . You can recruit a diverse workforce — but if the culture expects everyone to assimilate to one unspoken norm, you have not created belonging; you have just created a more varied set of people quietly contorting themselves to fit. CQ is what allows the actual diversity in the room to be heard, used and valued. For leaders in particular, this is where the work gets personal. The mantra Smile · Engage · Educate captures it well: how you show up — curious, open, genuinely interested — shapes whether the people around you feel safe enough to be themselves. That is the foundation of a culture of belonging , and it cannot be mandated by policy. It has to be modelled, one interaction at a time. CQ alongside EQ — and why both matter Emotional intelligence (EQ) is about self-awareness and managing how we interact with others. CQ extends that outward into culturally diverse situations — being comfortable and competent when the cultural context is not your own. The two work together. High EQ without CQ can still lead to well-intentioned missteps; CQ without EQ can become technique without warmth. Together they are what it looks like to lead inclusively across difference. Explore this further in the guide on inclusive leadership , or see how it connects to equity versus equality . Take it further Browse all guides , hear these ideas discussed on the Inclusion Bites podcast , or explore the keynote Inclusive Leadership & Engagement — which puts CQ, EQ and conscious inclusion together into a practical framework for leaders. ## Common questions { Q: 'What is cultural intelligence (CQ)?', A: 'Cultural intelligence — CQ — is the capability to work effectively with people who are different from you. It covers cultures in the broadest sense: nationality, ethnicity, religion, generation, neurodivergence, identity and more. Like emotional intelligence, it is a learnable skill rather than a fixed trait. It starts with curiosity and the drive to understand, and grows through deliberate practice and honest self-reflection.', }, { Q: 'How is CQ different from cultural awareness?', A: 'Cultural awareness is knowing that differences exist. Cultural intelligence is the ability to actually navigate them — staying curious rather than making assumptions, adapting how you communicate, and creating space for people to be themselves rather than expecting them to fit one cultural default. Awareness is the starting point; CQ is what you do with it.', }, { Q: 'Why does cultural intelligence matter at work?', A: 'Without CQ, well-meaning people still cause harm — by defaulting to a single norm, by making assumptions, or by failing to notice whose voice is missing. With it, teams collaborate across difference more effectively, leaders build broader trust, and organisations unlock the genuine benefits of a diverse workforce. CQ is not a nice-to-have; it is what makes inclusion real rather than rhetorical.', }, --- ### Inclusive recruitment https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/inclusive-recruitment Inclusive recruitment means removing the barriers — visible and hidden — that prevent people from competing fairly for roles. It is not about lowering the bar; it is about making sure the bar is in the right place, that everyone can see it clearly, and that the path to it is not blocked by assumptions, bias or inaccessible processes. Start with the foundations Most organisations want to recruit more diversely, but keep running the same process and expecting different results. Before you touch a job advert, it is worth asking a harder question: what kind of organisation are you recruiting people into ? If the culture is not yet inclusive, diverse hires will arrive, sense it, and start looking for the door. Inclusive recruitment and building a culture of belonging are not separate programmes — they are the same commitment, seen from different angles. The other foundational shift is moving from equality to equity. Treating every candidate identically sounds fair, but it ignores the fact that people arrive at your hiring process from very different starting points. Equity means giving people what they need to compete on fair terms. Once you have built that in, equality of opportunity — the thing most organisations say they already have — becomes a reality rather than a slogan. The numbers make the case sharper. In the CIPD’s 2024 Resourcing and Talent Planning research, 64% of organisations struggled to attract the right candidates — while only 31% ensured a diverse interview panel, 27% removed biographical details from the initial sift, and 25% adjusted their process for neurodivergent or disabled candidates. It is the same story told twice: employers say they cannot find people, while screening out the ones who do not match the template. Inclusive recruitment is the untapped supply line. (Full figures, dated and sourced, on my facts & figures page.) Attract: widen who sees the door Attraction is where bias does its quietest, most effective work. Consider: Job descriptions. Every "essential" criterion that is not truly essential shrinks your talent pool. Coded language — words like "aggressive", "dominant" or "ninja" — signals who the role is really for. Audit your language before you post. Where you advertise. Posting only where you have always posted reaches only who you have always reached. Partner with specialist networks, community organisations and universities that connect to under-represented talent. Your employer brand. Does your careers page reflect the full range of people who work for you — or just one version of success? Candidates from under-represented groups are watching to see whether anyone like them is already there. Homophily. There is a well-documented tendency to recruit in your own likeness — to be drawn to candidates who remind you of yourself or of previous successful hires. Naming it is the first step to interrupting it. Recruit: make the process genuinely fair A fair process does not feel fair by accident. It is designed that way, deliberately and consistently: Anonymise where you can. Removing names, addresses and graduation years from application reviews reduces the snap judgements that follow candidates through the rest of the process. Structure your interviews. Ask every candidate the same questions, in the same order, and score responses against agreed criteria before comparing candidates. Unstructured interviews are essentially a measure of how comfortable someone makes you feel — which is a measure of similarity, not capability. Diversify your panels. A panel that looks the same every time will weight the same things every time. Different perspectives on a panel catch different things — including different strengths in candidates. Offer adjustments proactively. Ask every candidate what they need to perform at their best, rather than waiting for people to identify themselves as requiring accommodation. The question itself signals that you mean it. Retain: keep the promise you made Retention is the acid test of whether your recruitment was genuinely inclusive or a numbers exercise. If you attract and hire diverse talent but people leave within a year or two, the recruitment process made a promise the organisation did not keep. The question to ask is not just "why did they leave?" but "what did they experience once they arrived?" Onboarding, who gets the interesting work, who gets sponsored, who gets heard in meetings, who has a manager who invests in them — these are the things that either build or erode the sense of belonging that keeps people. Inclusive recruitment does not end at the offer letter. It ends when someone feels — genuinely — that they belong here and can grow here. This is what #PositivePeopleExperiences means in practice: every touchpoint in the employee journey, from first application to ten years in, either reinforces belonging or quietly chips away at it. Measure and keep improving You cannot improve what you do not look at. Track the full funnel: who applied, who was shortlisted, who was interviewed, who was appointed — and cross-reference by characteristic. Gaps in the funnel tell you where the barriers are. Act on what the data shows, not on what you hope is happening. Take it further Inclusive recruitment sits at the intersection of several things I work on. Explore the keynote Inclusive Recruitment , read the connected guides on equity, not equality and inclusive leadership , or hear these ideas discussed openly on the Inclusion Bites podcast . And if you want to explore what fair hiring looks like across your organisation, I am happy to talk — the approach is always grounded in Smile · Engage · Educate : honest, human and practical. ## Common questions { Q: 'What is inclusive recruitment?', A: 'Inclusive recruitment is the practice of removing barriers at every stage of the hiring process — from how a role is advertised to how interviews are structured — so that candidates are assessed on their ability to do the job rather than on how well they fit a pre-existing mould. It moves organisations from equality (treating everyone the same) through equity (giving people what they need to compete fairly) towards genuine equality of opportunity.', }, { Q: 'How do you reduce bias in a recruitment process?', A: 'Start before you write the job description: question whether every "essential" criterion is truly essential, and audit the language for coded signals that deter diverse candidates. At shortlisting, consider anonymising applications. At interview, use structured questions asked consistently of every candidate and involve a diverse panel. After each hire, ask who applied, who was shortlisted and who was appointed — and look for patterns.', }, { Q: 'Why do diverse hires leave — and what does retention have to do with recruitment?', A: 'Retention is the acid test of whether your recruitment was genuinely inclusive or just a numbers exercise. If people from under-represented groups join and then quietly disengage and leave within a year or two, the culture has not kept the promise the recruitment process made. Belonging has to be built into the day-to-day experience — how people are welcomed, developed, heard and valued — not just into the careers page.', }, --- ### Trans inclusion at work https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/trans-inclusion-at-work Trans inclusion at work means creating a workplace where transgender and non-binary people can be themselves without fear — where they are referred to correctly, their privacy is respected, their contributions are valued, and support is available when they need it. It is not a tick-box exercise. Inclusion is reinforced through actions rather than assumptions, and that starts with the everyday choices every person in an organisation makes. What does "trans" mean? A brief grounding Transgender — or trans — is an umbrella term for people whose gender identity differs from the sex they were assigned at birth. Non-binary describes people whose gender does not fit neatly into the categories of man or woman. Both groups exist across every industry, every team, and every level of seniority. Transitioning looks different for everyone: it may involve changing a name, pronouns, appearance, legal documents, and sometimes medical treatment — or any combination of those things. There is no single "trans experience". The vocabulary in this space is evolving, and that can feel daunting. The important thing to understand is that trans and non-binary identities are not new — they have always existed. What is new is the growing expectation, quite rightly, that workplaces catch up. Why trans inclusion at work matters The scale of the gap is documented in my own research. My Beyond Compliance survey of UK organisations found more than half (50.7%) have no formal trans or non-binary inclusion policy at all — and of those that do, 36.4% give managers no guidance to implement it: a policy on paper that collapses the moment it is tested. The TUC reports that eight in ten (79%) trans workers have experienced bullying at work, against just under half of the wider LGBT+ sample. That is why trans inclusion cannot be left to a general LGBTQ+ statement that never says the word “trans”. (Fuller figures, dated and sourced, on my facts & figures page.) The case is straightforward: when inclusion is genuinely embedded in your culture, employees are more engaged, more innovative, and more productive. For trans and non-binary employees specifically, the stakes are higher than for most. Many face the fear of being outed — having their trans history shared with colleagues without their consent — or the daily grind of being misgendered. Either can cause real harm to wellbeing, confidence, and engagement. The evidence bears this out. My Beyond Compliance survey (SEE Change Happen, 2025–26) gathered the experiences of 136 trans and non-binary people in UK workplaces, and the picture it paints is consistent: inclusion is felt, or its absence is felt, in the everyday — not in the policy document alone. A workplace that proactively addresses bias and enforces inclusive policies is not just protecting its trans employees. It is creating a stronger, more respectful, and more cohesive work environment for everyone. That principle matters as much at board level as it does on the shop floor. Inclusion is not the responsibility of the one trans colleague who happens to be in the room. It has to be every person's responsibility: leadership, managers, and every individual employee. The practical basics every workplace needs Good trans inclusion does not require a complete overhaul. It requires a handful of things done consistently and well: A clear, up-to-date policy. An explicit written commitment to supporting trans and non-binary employees, covering transition at work, confidentiality, name and pronoun use, and who is responsible for what. Policies must be regularly reviewed — not written once and forgotten. Manager training. Managers are often the first person a trans employee talks to. They need the knowledge, confidence, and competence to handle those conversations well — without the fear of getting it wrong leading to inaction. Inaction is not neutral. Correct name and pronoun use. Use the name and pronouns a person tells you they use. Update systems — email, ID badges, HR records — promptly when asked. Misgendering, even when unintentional, has a cumulative effect. Deadnaming (using someone's previous name) is similarly harmful. Privacy and confidentiality. A trans person's history is theirs to share. Never disclose that a colleague is trans to anyone who does not need to know. Information should be shared only with those directly involved in supporting a workplace transition, and only with the employee's explicit consent. Inclusive facilities. Access to facilities — toilets, changing rooms — should not be a battleground. Trans employees should be able to use the facilities that align with their gender identity. Equal access must not be debated. Visible allyship and support. Employee resource groups, visible allies, and a zero-tolerance approach to discrimination, bullying, and harassment all signal to trans colleagues that this is a workplace that has their back. The fear of getting it wrong One of the biggest barriers to progress is not hostility — it is anxiety. Many managers and colleagues want to do the right thing but are so afraid of saying something wrong that they end up saying nothing at all, or avoiding the topic entirely. That avoidance is felt. As I put it in my Trans 101 programme: "This isn't about getting everything perfect. It is about showing up and being open." Genuine effort, curiosity, and a willingness to correct mistakes matter far more than flawless execution. Competence and confidence go hand in hand — training builds both. When you do make a mistake — using the wrong pronoun, for instance — correct yourself briefly and move on. Do not make a lengthy apology that places the burden on the other person to reassure you. A quiet correction and a commitment to do better is all that is needed. Inclusion is not optional When a colleague resists trans inclusion or objects to using someone's correct pronouns, managers must be clear: this is not a personal beliefs conversation. It is a workplace professionalism conversation. You do not have to agree with everything you are asked to do at work — but you do have to be respectful and professional. Inclusion is woven into the fabric of everyday team interaction, not treated as an optional add-on. That means leading by example, because your team takes its cues from you. It means having the courage to address discomfort and resistance directly, rather than hoping things will settle on their own. Where to go from here Trans inclusion sits within a broader commitment to LGBTQIA+ inclusion in the workplace. If you are building out your approach, read about what meaningful allyship looks like , explore the wider guides library , or hear these ideas unpacked in depth on the Inclusion Bites podcast . If you are ready to bring this work into your organisation — whether through a keynote, a workshop series, or a bespoke training programme — let's have a conversation . ## Common questions { Q: `What does trans inclusion at work actually mean?`, A: `Trans inclusion at work means creating an environment where transgender and non-binary colleagues can show up, be themselves, and do their best work — without having to hide who they are, manage other people's discomfort, or fear being outed or misgendered. It shows up in everyday things: the language you use, the policies you hold, how you handle someone coming out, and whether your culture makes space for difference as a matter of course.`, }, { Q: `What are the most important first steps for trans inclusion?`, A: `Start with the basics: a clear, up-to-date trans inclusion policy; training for managers so they can handle sensitive conversations with confidence; a consistent approach to pronouns and name use across your systems; and private, supportive facilities accessible to all. Beyond policy, it is about culture — whether people feel safe enough to be honest, and whether leaders model the respect they expect from everyone else.`, }, { Q: `What should I do if I make a mistake — such as using the wrong pronoun?`, A: `Correct yourself briefly, move on, and do not make it a long apology that centres your feelings. A simple "sorry — they, I mean" and continuing the conversation is usually exactly right. What matters is that you are genuinely trying, and that you do not repeat the same mistake. Trans colleagues are far more forgiving of genuine effort than they are of wilful indifference.`, }, --- ### How to be a trans ally at work https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/how-to-be-a-trans-ally-at-work A workplace ally is someone who uses their position, voice and everyday behaviour to support trans and non-binary colleagues — not just privately, but visibly and consistently. Allyship isn't about being perfect. It's about being present, willing to learn, and choosing to act rather than wait for someone else to step in. Why workplace allies matter right now Trans and non-binary people navigate a level of daily friction that most of their colleagues never see: navigating pronouns in meetings, wondering whether it's safe to be visible, managing the cumulative weight of small exclusions that stack up over time. You may not be the source of any of that — but you can be part of changing it. That weight is well documented. My Beyond Compliance survey (SEE Change Happen, 2025–26), drawing on the experiences of 136 trans and non-binary people in UK workplaces, found that what makes the difference is rarely the policy — it's whether colleagues show up as active allies in the everyday moments. As I often say, allyship is an ongoing journey of learning, unlearning, and standing up for trans rights. No one expects you to have every answer. What matters is that you stay engaged, keep growing, and don't opt out of the conversation when it gets uncomfortable. Active versus passive allyship Most people who consider themselves supportive of trans colleagues are, at best, passive allies — they agree with inclusion in principle but don't act on it when it counts. Passive allyship has real limits: it's invisible to the people who need it most, and it leaves trans colleagues to carry the weight alone. Active allyship is different. It means stepping up and stepping in — leaning into active allyship, and moving away from just purely being passive and performative. That shift from passive to active isn't about grand gestures. It's about daily interactions, team culture, and the behaviour you model day in, day out. Passive: privately supporting trans inclusion, staying quiet when bias appears, hoping someone else will address it. Active: speaking up when you witness exclusion, embedding inclusive language into your everyday practice, and committing to continuous learning rather than assuming you already know enough. The goal is sustained allyship — making inclusion part of your leadership and your team's culture, not just something you do when it feels easy. Everyday allyship behaviours You don't need a special role or a formal programme to be a meaningful ally. Most of what matters happens in ordinary moments: Use correct names and pronouns. Get them right, share your own in introductions and email signatures to normalise the practice, and correct others respectfully when they slip up. Don't make trans colleagues the expert. It's not a trans person's job to educate the whole team. Seek out resources yourself — engage with trans voices and reflect on your own biases. Amplify, don't speak over. In meetings and conversations, echo and credit trans colleagues' contributions. Use your platform to make space, not to fill it. Challenge jokes and comments. When you hear a transphobic joke or dismissive remark, challenge it calmly and explain why it's inappropriate. Don't wait for someone else to act. If you let it pass, you're effectively greenlighting it. Advocate in rooms they're not in. The most meaningful allyship often happens when your trans colleague isn't present — in hiring conversations, in policy discussions, in the moments where their interests could easily go unvoiced. Calling people in, not out There's an important distinction between calling someone out and calling them in. Calling out — publicly confronting or shaming someone for a mistake — can entrench defensiveness and shut down learning. Calling in means redirecting bias calmly and educationally, in the moment, without making it a public spectacle. If bias appears in a meeting, redirect it calmly and professionally: "Let's make sure we're being inclusive in our discussions." Simple as that. Little and often — call it out, call it in when you see it, not wait for it to become a massive, great big issue. Calling in treats the other person as capable of doing better. It creates the conditions for genuine change rather than defensive retreat. That said, calling in has its limits — if behaviour is deliberate, persistent or harmful, a firmer response and escalation are both appropriate and necessary. When you get it wrong You will get it wrong sometimes. Everyone does — a wrong pronoun, a deadname used by mistake, a question that lands badly. What matters is how you respond. Correct yourself quickly. A brief "I'm sorry, I meant [name/pronoun]" is enough. Then carry on. Don't over-apologise. A long, emotional apology centres your discomfort rather than respecting your colleague. Acknowledge it, correct it, move on. Reflect privately. If you made a mistake, think about why — and what you can do to reduce the chance of repeating it. That's what ongoing learning looks like in practice. Don't ask your trans colleague to manage your feelings. It isn't their job to reassure you that you're still a good person. Take accountability and keep going. Allyship isn't about never making mistakes — it's about not letting the fear of making them keep you on the sidelines. Hold the rope One of the most honest ways I can put this: we have to hold the rope. We have to keep believing, keep trying, keep making sure that we're not letting it slip. In a climate where trans visibility is both growing and contested, the temptation for allies can be to stay quiet — to avoid the friction. But staying quiet is itself a choice with consequences. Trans colleagues cannot hold this on their own. Allies on the same end of the rope make the difference between an organisation that merely tolerates difference and one that genuinely includes it. That's the kind of culture worth building. For a deeper look at this framing, read the guide Allyship: Hold the Rope . Or explore LGBTQIA+ inclusion and pride as a keynote or workshop theme. More perspectives are waiting on the Inclusion Bites podcast . Take it further Browse more guides on inclusion and belonging, or get in touch to talk about bringing trans inclusion to your organisation. A 30-minute conversation is a good place to start. ## Common questions { Q: `What does it actually mean to be a trans ally at work?`, A: `Being a trans ally at work means actively supporting your trans and non-binary colleagues through everyday behaviour — using correct names and pronouns, speaking up when you witness exclusion, and continuously learning. It goes beyond private sympathy: allyship is visible, consistent and ongoing. It's less a title you claim and more a practice you commit to.`, }, { Q: `What's the difference between active and passive allyship?`, A: `Passive allyship means privately supporting trans inclusion but staying quiet when bias or microaggressions appear. Active allyship means speaking up, embedding inclusion in how you work day to day, and challenging exclusionary behaviour when you see it — not waiting for someone else to act. The difference is intent translated into action.`, }, { Q: `What should I do if I accidentally misgender a colleague?`, A: `Correct yourself quickly and move on — a brief "I'm sorry, I meant [name/pronoun]" is all that's needed. Don't over-apologise or turn the moment into a long discussion, as that centres your own discomfort rather than respecting your colleague. What matters most is that you correct the mistake calmly and recommit to getting it right.`, }, --- ### Pronouns & inclusive language https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/pronouns-and-inclusive-language-at-work Inclusive language means choosing words that affirm rather than exclude — using someone's correct name, pronouns and terminology so they feel seen and respected at work. It isn't about policing speech or getting everything perfect. It's about showing up with care and correcting yourself when you slip. Why pronouns matter Pronouns are not a trend or a formality — they are part of how someone is recognised as a person. When a trans or non-binary colleague is repeatedly referred to by the wrong pronoun, the impact accumulates. Statements like "Oh, it's so hard to remember your pronouns" carry what Joanne describes in her training as a "drip, drip, drip effect that reinforce exclusion bias" — each one small, the pattern corrosive. The fear of being misgendered — or of being outed as trans to colleagues who don't know — can lead to anxiety and disengagement long before it shows up in a formal complaint. Getting language right is how you prevent that. Common pronouns and how to use them She/her and he/him — the pronouns most people are familiar with. Use whichever a person uses for themselves, regardless of how they present. They/them — singular they is standard English with centuries of use. Many non-binary people use they/them; some trans people do too. If you find it unfamiliar, practise: "Alex said they'd send the report over this afternoon." Other pronouns — some people use xe/xem, ze/zir or others. If someone shares their pronouns with you, use them. If you're unsure how, ask once, quietly and privately. You don't need to understand every nuance of gender identity to use someone's pronouns correctly. You just need to listen and try. Key terminology to know A shared vocabulary helps teams talk about inclusion without stumbling over words. Here are the terms that come up most often: Trans / transgender — an umbrella term for people whose gender identity differs from the sex they were assigned at birth. Use "trans" as an adjective ("a trans woman"), never as a noun. Non-binary — a person whose gender identity sits outside, between or beyond "man" and "woman". Non-binary people may use they/them or other pronouns. Gender identity — a person's internal sense of their own gender. Gender expression — how someone presents externally: name, clothing, mannerisms. Expression and identity don't always match. Deadnaming — using a trans person's previous name without their permission. Avoid it; update your records and systems as soon as someone shares a new name. Misgendering — referring to someone using incorrect pronouns or gendered language. It can be unintentional; the impact is real either way. Cisgender (cis) — a person whose gender identity matches their sex assigned at birth. A neutral, descriptive term. Language in this space evolves. If a term you've used has shifted, update it — that's not weakness, that's learning. How to recover gracefully from a misgender Everyone gets it wrong sometimes, especially while adjusting to a colleague's new name or pronouns. What matters is what you do next. In her training, Joanne models exactly this: "Say, look. I am struggling here. I'm gonna keep making it right, keep getting it right. I'm gonna keep trying." — taking responsibility without making the moment about your own discomfort. In practice, a graceful correction looks like this: Catch it quickly and correct in the flow: "Sorry — she, I mean he — was just saying…" One brief apology is enough. Repeating it or dwelling on it shifts the focus to you. Don't make a production of it. A quiet, calm correction is far less uncomfortable for everyone than a big moment. If it happens in writing — an email or report — simply use the correct name and pronouns in your reply without drawing attention to it as an error. Practise the correct pronouns privately so the habit forms. It gets easier quickly. When a colleague refuses to use correct pronouns Occasionally someone will say they "can't" or "won't" use a colleague's pronouns on the grounds of personal belief. This is where clarity matters. "This isn't about personal beliefs. It's about workplace respect," Joanne says in her trans inclusion training. "You don't have to agree, but you have to be professional." Managers and HR leads have a responsibility to address this the same way they'd address any other failure of professional conduct — through policy, conversation and, if necessary, escalation. Leaving the trans colleague to manage it alone isn't neutrality; it's a choice with consequences. For active allies , this is also the moment to speak up in the room — a calm, brief correction reinforces the culture without requiring the trans person to advocate for themselves yet again. Practical steps for teams Normalise pronoun sharing in email signatures and meeting introductions — for everyone, not just trans colleagues. Update internal systems promptly when a colleague changes their name or pronouns: directories, ID badges, email accounts, HR records. Brief meeting facilitators and line managers on what to do if misgendering happens in a group setting. Include pronoun guidance in your LGBTQIA+ inclusion policy and revisit it as language evolves. Create space for questions — private, low-stakes learning prevents the awkward public moments nobody wants. Take it further Explore Joanne's LGBTQIA+ inclusion keynotes and workshops , browse more guides , or hear these topics explored in depth on the Inclusion Bites podcast . ## Common questions { Q: `Do I have to use someone's pronouns if I disagree with them?`, A: `Using a colleague's correct pronouns isn't about personal agreement — it's a basic professional expectation, in the same way you'd use someone's correct name or job title. As Joanne puts it in her training: "This isn't about personal beliefs. It's about workplace respect." You don't have to understand every aspect of someone's identity to treat them with dignity at work.`, }, { Q: `What should I do if I accidentally misgender someone?`, A: `Correct yourself briefly, apologise once, and move on — don't over-apologise or make the moment about your own discomfort. Something like "Sorry — she, I mean they — was telling me earlier…" and carry on is exactly right. The goal is to show you care enough to get it right, not to centre yourself in the correction.`, }, { Q: `What's the difference between gender identity and gender expression?`, A: `Gender identity is your internal sense of who you are — man, woman, non-binary, or another identity entirely. Gender expression is how you present that externally through clothing, name, pronouns and behaviour. They don't always align, and neither is determined by the sex someone was assigned at birth. Understanding this distinction is the foundation of getting inclusive language right.`, }, --- ### Supporting a colleague who's transitioning https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/supporting-a-colleague-who-is-transitioning Supporting a transitioning colleague means creating conditions where they feel respected, safe, and genuinely supported at work — not just in the moment they come out, but throughout the weeks and months that follow. It requires practical adjustments, thoughtful conversations, and consistent, visible leadership. Done well, it becomes simply how you manage. Why this moment matters more than you think When a colleague tells you they are transitioning, the way you respond will shape their experience of work — and your team's culture — for a long time to come. It has to be respectful and affirming, and it has to feel like a well-trodden path. The person sitting across from you has usually thought about this conversation for much longer than you have. Your job is not to have all the answers; it is to make them feel heard, safe, and supported from the very first word. If a colleague feels unsupported, their stress, anxiety, and disengagement will increase — and that affects everything: their performance, their mental health, and ultimately your team and your organisation's reputation. The research is clear: inclusive workplaces retain better, perform better, and attract better. Practical support at the right moment is where that all starts. The first conversation Most managers worry they will say the wrong thing. That worry is natural and it is also, frankly, less important than acting. A simple, warm response — "Thank you for telling me. I want to make sure you feel supported. What do you need from me?" — is genuinely enough to begin with. Then listen. Ask, don't assume. Find out their preferred name and pronouns and start using them straight away. If you slip up, correct yourself briefly and move on — don't make it about your discomfort. Let them set the pace. Ask how they would like the team to be informed, when, and by whom. This is their disclosure to make on their own terms. Be honest about what you don't know. It is fine to say "I'm not entirely sure of the process yet — let me speak to HR and come back to you." What matters is that you follow through promptly. Follow up in writing. A brief note confirming what you discussed and the next steps gives the colleague clarity and demonstrates you are taking it seriously. Confidentiality: whose story is it? Confidentiality belongs to the transitioning person. Clear protocols should ensure confidentiality — you do not need to tell anyone why a colleague is out of the office or has changed their name on the system. Share information only with those who genuinely need it, and only with your colleague's explicit agreement. If team members ask questions, a calm, neutral response works well. Something like: "That's a personal matter, and I'd ask everyone to respect their privacy." You are not being evasive — you are modelling the professional standard your organisation should hold. Remember: you are not asking for opinions on the transition. You are setting an expectation of dignity and respect. Practical adjustments to put in place Every transition is different — there is no one experience. Avoid treating your colleague like a special case; instead, normalise support and flexibility as you would for any other employee need. Common areas to work through together include: Name and pronoun updates. Work with HR and IT to update email, badges, internal directories, and any external-facing profiles as quickly as possible. Delays here cause daily harm. Flexible working. A transitioning colleague may need time off for medical appointments, legal appointments, or mental health support. Treat this as you would any other health-related flexibility — with discretion and without requiring unnecessary disclosure. Facilities access. Ensure they can access facilities that match their gender. If anyone raises concerns, make clear that this is a workplace rights issue, not a matter for debate. Communication planning. Work together on if, when, and how the wider team is informed. Some colleagues will want a team briefing; others will prefer a quiet, gradual shift. Follow their lead entirely. Ongoing check-ins. Don't treat the initial conversation as the end of it. Ask regularly how things are going, whether the support is working, and whether there are problems you need to step in and address. Leading your team through change As a manager, you set the standard. When you are informed, proactive, and calm, the workplace around you will also feel supported and informed. Colleagues may have their own adjustments to make — learning a new name, new pronouns — and some may find that harder than others. Your role is to hold the line on dignity while giving people space to learn. Inclusion is not optional. If a team member resists or is dismissive, reaffirm your organisation's values clearly and firmly. You are not facilitating a debate. You are ensuring every member of your team feels they belong, can contribute, and can do their best work — and that includes your transitioning colleague. Every employee should feel confident they will be supported. They should not have to advocate for themselves at every turn. That is what good management looks like in practice — and it is well within your reach. Where to go next Explore Joanne's work on LGBTQIA+ inclusion , read the companion guide on allyship at work , or browse the full guides library . These themes and more are discussed regularly on the Inclusion Bites podcast . ## Common questions { Q: `What do I say when a colleague tells me they're transitioning?`, A: `Thank them for trusting you, affirm that you want to support them, and ask what they need from you right now. You don't need to have all the answers in that moment — what matters is that your response is warm, calm and focused on them. Ask about their preferred name and pronouns, and clarify together who else they'd like to tell and when. Then follow up promptly with HR to understand your organisation's policy and next steps.`, }, { Q: `How do I handle confidentiality when a team member is transitioning?`, A: `Confidentiality belongs to the transitioning person — it's their disclosure to make, on their terms and timeline. As a manager, you share information only with those who genuinely need to know (HR, for example), and only with the employee's consent. You do not owe colleagues an explanation for absences, schedule changes, or a name update. If people ask, a neutral response such as "that's a personal matter and I'd ask you to respect their privacy" is both appropriate and sufficient.`, }, { Q: `What practical adjustments might a transitioning colleague need?`, A: `Every transition is different, so ask rather than assume. Common needs include updating their name and pronouns on systems and communications, flexible or adjusted working arrangements around medical appointments, access to appropriate facilities, and time off for gender-affirming care. Some colleagues will want a team conversation managed by HR; others will prefer a quiet, low-key update. Follow their lead, normalise the adjustments as you would for any other employee need, and check in regularly rather than treating it as a one-off event.`, }, --- ### Supporting a partner through transition https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/supporting-a-partner-through-transition The other side of transition belongs to the partners, parents and close friends who love someone through profound change. They are rarely the focus, yet they carry their own grief, fear and growth. Supporting them — and helping them support their person — is part of doing inclusion well. This guide draws on the experience of Marie Manley — my wife, and the person who walked alongside my own transition over more than a decade. Our story featured in the Channel 4 documentary The Making of Me . Marie now advocates for the partners, families and friends who find themselves on the other side of someone else's journey, and her honesty is the heart of this guide. The journey has two sides Almost everything written about transition is written for, or about, the person who is transitioning — and rightly so. But a transition rarely happens to one person alone. A spouse, a child, a parent, a best friend: each of them is adjusting too, often quietly, and often without anyone asking how they are doing. Acknowledging that second journey doesn't take anything away from the first. It makes the whole thing more human. It's okay to grieve Partners often feel they aren't allowed to find it hard — that any difficulty makes them unsupportive. Marie's experience says otherwise. In the early days she felt a real sense of loss, even betrayal, and she has never hidden it: "In the early days, I did feel betrayed. I just cried and cried. But eventually, for myself and for my children, you have to do the right thing." — Marie Manley Grief and love are not opposites. You can mourn the future you pictured — the version of your life you thought you were building — while still loving and supporting the person in front of you. Naming the loss honestly is usually what allows acceptance to follow. Learning to love the person, not the appearance The hardest moments, Marie has said, were often the most visible ones — seeing someone you love look unfamiliar. What got her through wasn't pretending it didn't hurt. It was finding the part that hadn't changed: "When you're standing there and you don't look like Pete, of course it's going to hurt. And it's the inside bit of me that makes me think, yes, we can do this — because it's the soul bit." — Marie Manley She describes it as learning to love the person, not just the person she saw "with the blonde wig or the pretty dress." The relationship survives by reaching past appearance to the soul bit — the things that made you choose each other in the first place. It isn't selfish Transition is often framed — sometimes by the people closest to it — as a selfish act. Marie felt that tension and came to a different conclusion: "You've only got one life. So, to be fair, Jo has to do what makes Jo happy." — Marie Manley Reaching that view didn't mean her own feelings stopped mattering. It meant holding both truths: that her person deserved to live authentically, and that she was allowed her own time to adjust to it. The fear of what others think A lot of a partner's anxiety isn't about the relationship at all — it's about the outside world. Marie has spoken about the worry of being seen by someone she knew, of how a private comfort could flip the moment you stepped out in public. That fear is real, and it usually eases with time, familiarity and a few people who respond with warmth rather than a raised eyebrow. Allies make a bigger difference here than they realise. You can still have a life together Perhaps the most reassuring thing Marie offers other partners is simply that it can be done. The life changes shape — but it does not have to end: "We had a way of life, and that's all different. I'm married to Jo now. And over time, we've proved you can still have a very similar life." — Marie Manley My own version of the same hope, from those early years, was just to take it day by day, believe in the best, and see what happens. Years on, we are still here — and still laughing. For workplaces, allies and friends Transition ripples outward. The colleague who seems distracted may be a partner or parent quietly carrying a lot. Inclusive organisations remember that, and extend the same care, flexibility and signposting to the people around a transition — not only to the person transitioning. If you want to support someone whose partner, child or friend is transitioning, you don't need the perfect words. Ask how they are, listen without trying to fix it, and don't assume they are fine just because the spotlight is elsewhere. Take it further Joanne and Marie tell this story together in their fireside chat, One Transition, Two Perspectives . You may also find how to be a trans ally at work and supporting a colleague who is transitioning helpful, or explore LGBTQIA+ inclusion and pride as a session theme. ## Common questions { Q: `Is it normal to grieve when my partner transitions?`, A: `Yes. Many partners describe a real sense of loss alongside their love and support — grief for the future they pictured, or for the familiar person they knew. Marie has spoken openly about feeling betrayed and crying in the early days. Naming that honestly isn't disloyal; it's part of how people move towards acceptance. The grief and the love can exist at the same time.`, }, { Q: `Do I have to have it all worked out to be supportive?`, A: `No. Nobody gets it right every time, and you don't need to feel certain to be a good partner, friend or colleague. What helps most is staying in the conversation, being honest about what's hard, and taking it day by day. As Marie puts it, you learn to love the person, not the appearance — and that learning takes time.`, }, { Q: `How can a workplace support the partner or family of someone who is transitioning?`, A: `Remember that transition ripples outward. Colleagues who are partners, parents or close friends of a trans person may be carrying their own quiet uncertainty. Workplaces can help by extending the same warmth and flexibility to them, signposting support, and not assuming the trans person is the only one affected. A culture that makes space for the people around the journey supports the journey itself.`, }, --- ### Mentoring vs coaching: what’s the difference? https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/mentoring-vs-coaching Mentoring is a more experienced person sharing their experience, frameworks, lessons and advice — “I’ve walked this; here’s what I learned.” Coaching uses questions, reflection and challenge to surface your own answers — and a coach doesn’t need to be an expert in your field at all. Both are valuable. They’re just different tools for different moments. The honest, simple distinction People use “mentoring” and “coaching” as if they’re the same thing. They’re not, and the difference matters when you’re deciding what you actually need. When I mentor, I’m drawing on what I’ve lived through. I’ll offer you frameworks, share the lessons I learned the hard way, and tell you what I’d do — and what I’d avoid. It’s generous with experience: “I’ve walked this path; here’s what I found along the way.” When I coach, I do the opposite of giving you my answer. I ask questions, I invite reflection, and I challenge gently — because I trust that the answer is already in you and my job is to help you reach it. That’s why a coach doesn’t need to be a domain expert in your world. The expertise lives in the conversation, not in me having walked your exact road. The blend — because questions don’t arrive labelled Here’s the truth I’ve found in practice: real leadership questions don’t turn up neatly labelled “this one needs advice” or “this one needs reflection”. They arrive tangled, in the middle of a busy week, often dressed up as something simpler than they are. So I flex between the two session by session — sometimes within the same conversation. One moment I’ll share a framework that gives you a foothold; the next I’ll put the pen down and ask the question that helps you find your own way through. Most good engagements are a blend, and the skill is knowing which mode the moment is actually asking for rather than defaulting to giving advice every time. When mentoring is the right tool Mentoring earns its place when you need a map from someone who has walked the path. If you’re stepping into something genuinely new, the value of borrowed experience is hard to overstate. Reach for mentoring when: You’re in unfamiliar territory. A first leadership role, a new sector, a situation you’ve never faced — you don’t yet have the patterns to draw on. You want to avoid known pitfalls. Someone who’s been there can flag the traps before you fall into them, saving you time, energy and a few bruises. You need frameworks and structure. Sometimes you don’t need to discover the wheel — you need someone to hand you one that works and help you adapt it. When coaching is the right tool Coaching is what serves you when the answer is already in you and you need help reaching it. Often you know far more than you give yourself credit for — what’s missing is the space and the questions to bring it to the surface. Reach for coaching when: The decision is yours to own. Being handed someone else’s answer would short-circuit the thinking you actually need to do. You’re stuck, not uninformed. You have the knowledge; what you lack is clarity, perspective or the confidence to act on what you already sense. You want growth that sticks. Insight you reach yourself tends to hold far better than advice you were simply given. An honest truth about mentoring In one of the conversations I host on the Inclusion Bites podcast , a guest put something that has stayed with me ever since: “Nobody teaches you how to be a mentor — it’s a completely different role from the one you do day to day.” Being brilliant at your job doesn’t automatically make you a good mentor. Mentoring is its own craft — knowing when to speak and when to hold back, how to share experience without imposing it, how to leave room for someone to make the choice themselves. If you’ve ever been asked to mentor and felt oddly unequipped, that’s normal — and it’s exactly why I wrote The Reluctant Mentor , for people who find themselves in the role without ever having been shown how. A fractional layer for organisations For organisations, there’s an optional third dimension: a fractional consulting layer. Rather than mentoring or coaching an individual, I work alongside leadership teams on the bigger picture — culture, inclusion, strategy — bringing outside experience in on a part-time, sustained basis. It sits naturally alongside one-to-one work, and we can shape it around what your organisation actually needs. Take it further If you’d like to talk through what would help — mentoring, coaching, a blend of the two, or a fractional engagement — explore my mentoring and coaching work or browse more guides . A 30-minute conversation is a good place to start. ## Common questions { Q: `What's the difference between mentoring and coaching?`, A: `Mentoring is a more experienced person sharing their experience, frameworks, lessons and advice — essentially, "I've walked this; here's what I learned." Coaching uses questions, reflection and challenge to surface your own answers, and a coach doesn't need to be an expert in your field. Mentoring gives you a map; coaching helps you read the one you already have.`, }, { Q: `Do I need a mentor or a coach?`, A: `It depends on the question in front of you. If you need a map from someone who has walked the path — concrete experience, patterns and pitfalls — mentoring is the right tool. If the answer is already in you and you need help reaching it, coaching is what serves you. In practice most people need both at different moments, which is why I flex between the two session by session.`, }, { Q: `Can the same person be both your mentor and your coach?`, A: `Yes — and often that's the most useful arrangement. Real leadership questions don't arrive neatly labelled, so a good engagement moves between sharing experience and asking the questions that help you find your own answer. The skill is knowing which mode the moment calls for, rather than defaulting to giving advice every time.`, }, --- ### The reluctant mentor https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/the-reluctant-mentor The reluctant mentor is the experienced person who’d be brilliant at it but resists the label. They don’t feel qualified, they don’t see their experience as special, or they’re afraid of overclaiming. The reluctance isn’t a verdict on their ability — and the deeper story is that we resist stepping into our earned authority because we confuse formal credentials with lived credibility. I avoided the word “mentor” I spent years avoiding the word mentor. Not because people hadn’t asked — they had, many times. But every time, a small voice said: careful, don’t call this mentoring . Mentoring sounded too formal, too grand, too official. It felt like a status that should require a certificate, a methodology, a recognised qualification, someone else’s permission. So I did what a lot of experienced people do. I discounted nearly forty years of evidence because I didn’t have the right label for it. The contradiction was sitting in plain sight. People had been treating me as a mentor for years. The work was already happening. At some point I had to sit with a more uncomfortable question: what if I wasn’t being modest? What if I was simply being reluctant? The imposter script: “What do I know?” Most reluctant mentors run a version of the same internal script. What do I know? Who am I to advise senior leaders? I’m not a professional mentor. I’ve no coaching qualification. What gives me the right? It sounds like conscientiousness, and partly it is. But it’s worth noticing what the script does: it counts us out before anyone else gets the chance to. This is how imposter syndrome works in experienced people. It rarely shows up as obvious self-doubt. It shows up as deflection — “I’m just doing my job, there’s nothing special about that” — and as a constant comparison with people who have the accredited title we don’t. The people who never doubt themselves aren’t always the ones you’d want guiding someone through a hard patch. The doubt, in moderation, is a feature, not a fault. The evidence I discounted When I finally looked at the experience I’d been dismissing, it was not a CV so much as a body of evidence. Careers navigated across electronics, the military, IT, commerce and consultancy. Helping run and grow a multi-million-pound business. Board-level and chairing experience. Founding and building my own company — the brand, the systems, the products. Inclusion, HR, culture and change work people pay for. A global speaking practice. And the Inclusion Bites podcast — well over two hundred recorded conversations that turned out to be far more than podcasting. They were an apprenticeship in listening, leadership, identity, courage, belonging and change. Alongside the professional, the human: parenting, caring for elderly parents through the care system, bereavement, transition, reinvention. None of it arrived with a badge. As I came to put it: sometimes your authority is not one thing — it is the compound interest of many things. My credibility was never built in one lane. It was built at the intersection of leadership, lived experience, listening, enterprise, speaking and reinvention. Credentials versus credibility Here is the distinction the whole thing turns on. Mentoring is not always a certificate, a methodology or a title bestowed by someone else. Sometimes it is pattern recognition; lived experience; commercial scars; emotional intelligence; being two chapters ahead and willing to share what the road looks like; helping someone unlock a door you’ve already learned how to open. I thought I was reluctant because I was being humble. But perhaps I was reluctant because I had confused certification with permission. Nobody had appointed me as a mentor — but people had been treating me as one for years. Formal training matters and is worth having; it simply isn’t the only source of value. If you’d like to go deeper on this, it has its own guide: credentials vs credibility . When reluctance is fear in respectable clothes It’s worth being honest about what keeps good people on the sidelines, because it’s rarely a genuine lack of something to offer. It’s imposter feelings and perfectionism. It’s the fear of overclaiming, and the comparison with accredited coaches. It’s the gendered and class-bound assumptions about who gets to be called an expert — and the way marginalised professionals are so often conditioned to underclaim. It’s the fear of visibility, of criticism, of responsibility. And it’s modesty curdling, quietly, into self-erasure. The cost is real and it runs both ways. The reluctant person loses income, impact, positioning, confidence and influence. But someone else loses too — they lose guidance, perspective, challenge, encouragement, a door-opener, a map. As I’ve come to say it: if we keep calling our wisdom “nothing special”, we don’t become humble — we simply become less useful. What mentoring actually requires Mentoring doesn’t require having all the answers. It requires having been somewhere the other person hasn’t — and being willing to share it honestly, including the mistakes. The mistakes are often the most useful part. Anyone can describe the polished version of how things went; what people really learn from is the wrong turns and what you did next. Nobody teaches you how to be a mentor — it’s a completely different role from the one you do day to day. So of course it feels unfamiliar at first. You can be excellent at your job and still feel clumsy the first time you sit across from someone and try to help them think. That clumsiness isn’t a lack of qualification; it’s just newness, and newness fades with practice. If you want to dig into where this differs from coaching, read mentoring vs coaching . The MAP: mirror, anchor, permission Stripped back, most of the mentoring I do comes down to three things. I help people see more clearly, steady themselves, and move. I call it the MAP. Mirror. Helping people see themselves, their situation and their options more clearly than they can from the inside. Anchor. Offering grounded perspective drawn from experience, not theory alone — something steady to hold on to. Permission. Helping them take the next step they often already know they need to take. It’s a deliberately small framework, because the role is smaller and more human than the word “mentor” makes it sound. I’m not there to be anyone’s guru — I’m there to be a useful mirror, a steady hand, and occasionally the person who says: stop overthinking it, you already know what needs to happen next. There’s a fuller guide on the framework here: mirror, anchor, permission . Standing beside, not above The image many people carry of mentoring is the wise elder dispensing advice from a great height. I find that picture unhelpful and a little off-putting. Mentoring is standing beside someone with perspective, not above them. It can be a mirror, an anchor, a permission slip, a challenge, a shortcut, a reality check, a route map — but it is never a pedestal. Mentoring is not a crown. It is a responsibility. Held that way, the role is something you can do without overclaiming it. It asks for honesty, perspective, boundaries, usefulness and care — not perfection, and not guru status. If the people you’re helping are under-represented or navigating systems that weren’t built for them, you may find the line between mentoring and advocacy matters; the guide on mentorship vs sponsorship picks up that thread. The question worth sitting with I am still cautious with the word mentor — and I think that caution is healthy, because mentoring should never be about ego, status, or creating dependency. But I am learning that reluctance is not always humility. Sometimes it is fear wearing respectable clothes: fear of being found out, of overclaiming, of stepping into a role before someone has given us permission. The invitation is to look again at the experience we have been dismissing — the careers navigated, crises survived, businesses built, rooms sat in, mistakes made, people supported, losses carried, reinventions lived. Not because any of it makes us perfect — it does not — but because someone else may be standing at a door we have already learned how to open. If we keep calling our wisdom “nothing special”, we do not become humble; we simply become less useful. So maybe the better question is not “Am I qualified to be a mentor?” but “Who needs me to stop pretending I have nothing to offer?” Take it further This guide is the companion to the keynote The Reluctant Mentor . To go deeper on the two ideas at its heart, read credentials vs credibility and mirror, anchor, permission . If you’re curious how mentoring differs from coaching, read mentoring vs coaching , or explore how I approach mentoring . Browse more guides when you’re ready. ## Common questions { Q: `What makes someone a “reluctant” mentor?`, A: `A reluctant mentor is usually someone who’d be brilliant at it but hesitates. They don’t feel qualified, they don’t see their own experience as special, or they’re afraid of getting it wrong. The reluctance is rarely a sign they shouldn’t mentor — more often it’s a sign they’d take the role seriously. The very people who worry about being good enough tend to be the ones worth having.`, }, { Q: `Don’t I need a qualification or certification to mentor?`, A: `No. Formal training is valuable and worth having, but it isn’t the only source of mentoring value. Mentoring also draws on lived credibility — pattern recognition, commercial scars, emotional intelligence and the experience of having been two chapters ahead of where someone else is now. Joanne’s argument is that we confuse credentials with permission: we wait for a certificate to authorise something our experience already qualifies us to do.`, }, { Q: `Isn’t reluctance just healthy humility?`, A: `Sometimes. A degree of caution about the word mentor is healthy, because mentoring should never be about ego, status or creating dependency. But reluctance isn’t always humility. Sometimes it’s fear wearing respectable clothes — fear of being found out, of overclaiming, of stepping into a role before someone has formally granted permission. The useful question is whether your modesty is serving anyone, or quietly costing someone the guidance you could offer.`, }, { Q: `What’s the smallest way to start mentoring?`, A: `Start with one person and one conversation. You don’t need a programme, a framework or a title. Offer to talk through something you’ve navigated before, listen more than you advise, and be honest about what you don’t know. Mentoring is standing beside someone, not above them — and that begins with a single, ordinary conversation.`, }, --- ### Credentials vs credibility https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/credentials-vs-credibility Credentials are the awarded markers of competence — qualifications, certifications, titles. Credibility is whether people genuinely trust your judgement and come to you for it. Both matter, and they often overlap. But they’re not the same thing — and confusing the two is how many experienced people end up discounting authority they’ve already earned. Two different kinds of authority A credential is something granted to you. You sit the exam, complete the programme, meet the standard, and a recognised body confirms it in writing. That confirmation is valuable — it sharpens your method, gives you a shared language with peers, and reassures the people relying on you. I’m a strong advocate for accreditation where it fits; it’s part of why I value being accredited as a speaker . Credibility is different. It isn’t granted; it accrues. It’s built through the things you’ve actually done, the calls you’ve made, the people who’ve come back to you because your perspective helped last time. You can’t apply for it and nobody hands it over in a ceremony. It simply gathers, quietly, over years — which is precisely why it’s so easy to overlook in yourself. Where lived credibility comes from When I finally stopped dismissing my own experience, I could see that the most useful things I bring to a mentoring conversation weren’t the ones on a certificate. They were the ones built in the doing. Pattern recognition. Having seen a situation play out enough times to recognise its shape early — the restructure that’s really about something else, the “great opportunity” that’s a trap, the conversation that needs to happen before the decision does. Commercial scars. The lessons that only arrive through having something at stake — your money, your reputation, your team. You can read about running a business; it lands differently once you’ve carried the risk of one. Emotional intelligence. Reading the room, holding a difficult moment, knowing when to push and when to wait. Often the deciding factor in whether advice is actually useful. There’s a whole guide on emotional intelligence if you want to go deeper. Being two chapters ahead. You don’t need to have finished the book to help someone who’s only just opened it. Sometimes the person two chapters ahead is exactly the person someone else needs. The compound interest of many things One of the reasons lived credibility is so easy to underrate is that it rarely sits in a single, nameable lane. It isn’t “I’m a qualified X”. It’s the accumulation of a career, a life, a series of reinventions — leadership here, lived experience there, listening, enterprise, speaking, loss, care, recovery. None of it on its own looks like a qualification. Together it’s formidable. The way I’ve come to say it is this: sometimes your authority is not one thing — it is the compound interest of many things. My own credibility was never built in one lane. It was built at the intersection of leadership, lived experience, listening, enterprise, speaking and reinvention. That intersection is the asset. The mistake is looking for a single certificate that captures it and concluding, when you can’t find one, that you must not have it. How imposter syndrome masquerades as humility Here’s the trap that keeps credible people quiet. Imposter syndrome rarely announces itself as raw self-doubt. In experienced people it dresses up as modesty: “I’m just doing my job.” “There’s nothing special about my experience.” “Someone more qualified should really do this.” Every one of those sounds like a virtue. Each one quietly erases something real. I thought I was reluctant because I was being humble. But perhaps I was reluctant because I had confused certification with permission. That’s the heart of it. We wait to be authorised by a credential before we’ll act on a credibility we already have — and while we wait, the value goes unused. A useful test: is your modesty serving anyone? Genuine humility makes you more useful — it keeps you curious, open and honest about your limits. Fear dressed as humility makes you less useful while feeling virtuous. As I’ve put it elsewhere: if we keep calling our wisdom “nothing special”, we don’t become humble — we simply become less useful. This isn’t a licence to overclaim None of this is an argument for grandiosity, and it certainly isn’t a reason to skip training that would genuinely make you better. Credentials matter. So do boundaries and honesty about what you don’t know. The point isn’t that qualifications are worthless — it’s that they aren’t the only currency of value, and pretending they are leaves real experience sitting idle. Owning your credibility means naming what you actually offer — lived experience, commercial judgement, pattern recognition, human insight, the ability to help someone move forward — without inflating it into expertise you don’t have. You can hold the authority and stay honest about its edges. That combination is what people trust. Take it further This guide sits alongside the keynote The Reluctant Mentor and its anchor guide, the reluctant mentor . Once you’ve made peace with the authority you’ve earned, the next question is how to use it well — see mirror, anchor, permission . You might also find strong opinions, weakly held a useful companion. Browse more guides when you’re ready. ## Common questions { Q: `What’s the difference between credentials and credibility?`, A: `Credentials are the formal, awarded markers of competence — qualifications, certifications, accreditations, job titles. Credibility is whether people actually trust your judgement and come to you for it. The two often overlap, but not always: plenty of people hold credentials without credibility, and plenty hold deep credibility without the matching certificate. Mentoring draws on both, but it runs primarily on credibility.`, }, { Q: `Do I need a qualification to give advice or mentor people?`, A: `Not necessarily. Formal training is genuinely valuable and worth pursuing — it sharpens method and gives confidence. But it isn’t the only source of value. Lived credibility — pattern recognition built over years, commercial scars, emotional intelligence, the experience of having navigated something first-hand — is a legitimate authority in its own right. The danger is treating the certificate as the only permission, and discounting everything you’ve learned without one.`, }, { Q: `How does imposter syndrome masquerade as humility?`, A: `Imposter syndrome often disguises itself as modesty. “I’m just doing my job”, “there’s nothing special about my experience”, “someone more qualified should do this” all sound humble, but they can quietly erase real expertise and keep useful people on the sidelines. Joanne’s test is whether your modesty is serving anyone: genuine humility makes you more useful, whereas fear dressed as humility makes you less useful while feeling virtuous.`, }, --- ### Mirror, anchor, permission https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/mirror-anchor-permission MAP — Mirror, Anchor, Permission — is a simple framework for what useful mentoring actually does. Mirror: help people see themselves and their options more clearly. Anchor: offer grounded perspective from experience, not theory alone. Permission: help them take the next step they often already know they need to take. Most of the mentoring I do comes down to those three things. Why a small framework The word “mentor” can sound enormous — wise, formal, slightly intimidating. The reality is much smaller and far more human. When I look honestly at the conversations people find genuinely useful, almost all of them do one of three things: they help someone see more clearly, they help them feel steadier, or they help them move. That’s the whole job. I call it the MAP, and it’s deliberately compact, because a small framework is one you can actually hold in your head in the middle of a real conversation. M — Mirror The first thing a good mentor offers is a clearer reflection. When you’re inside a situation, you can’t always see its shape — the assumption you’ve stopped noticing, the option you’ve ruled out without examining, the story you keep telling yourself about why something can’t change. A mirror helps people see themselves, their situation and their choices more clearly than they can from the inside. Mirroring is mostly listening and reflecting back, not advising. You ask what they’ve already tried, what they’re really weighing up, what “good” would actually look like to them. Then you play it back: “It sounds like the issue isn’t the job offer — it’s whether you trust the person you’d be reporting to.” Often that’s enough. People frequently know the answer; what they need is someone to help them hear themselves say it. A — Anchor The second thing is steadiness. When someone is anxious, overwhelmed or spinning, what helps is a grounded point of reference — perspective drawn from experience, not theory alone. An anchor says, in effect, “I’ve been somewhere near where you’re standing, and here’s what I noticed.” It’s reassuring not because it promises everything will be fine, but because it makes the situation feel navigable rather than unprecedented. This is where lived experience earns its place. You’re not quoting a model; you’re offering the calm that comes from having weathered something similar. The most useful anchoring is often the most honest — including the parts that went wrong for you. There’s more on why that lived authority counts in the guide on credentials vs credibility . P — Permission The third thing is the gentle nudge over the line. Very often people already know what they need to do — they’re just waiting for someone to make it feel allowed. Permission is helping them take the step they’ve already half-decided on. Sometimes it’s as simple as saying: stop overthinking it — you already know what needs to happen next. Permission isn’t pressure, and it isn’t deciding for them. It’s removing the artificial requirement to be certain, or fully qualified, or guaranteed to get it right before acting. It’s the same permission a reluctant mentor needs to claim for themselves — which is rather the point of the whole Reluctant Mentor conversation. Standing beside, not above What ties the MAP together is posture. Mentoring is standing beside someone with perspective, not above them dispensing wisdom from a height. In practice that means you ask more than you tell, you listen for what the person actually needs rather than what you assume they need, and you let them arrive at their own conclusions with you as a companion rather than a commander. It also means resisting the pull towards dependency. A mentor who quietly enjoys being needed isn’t serving the other person. The aim is to leave someone more capable and more confident on their own — not more reliant on you. Mentoring is not a crown; it is a responsibility, and part of that responsibility is knowing when to step back. What the MAP is not Being clear about the boundaries is what keeps mentoring honest and safe — for both people. It isn’t therapy or counselling. You’re not there to treat, diagnose or process trauma. If something needs a qualified professional, the most useful thing you can do is say so and help them find one. It isn’t coaching in disguise. Formal coaching is its own discipline, often deliberately non-directive. Mentoring openly draws on your own experience. For the full distinction, see mentoring vs coaching . It isn’t guru-ship. You’re not the source of all answers, and you’re not building disciples. I’m not there to be anyone’s guru — I’m there to be a useful mirror, a steady hand, and occasionally the voice that says: you already know. It isn’t sponsorship. Mentoring opens minds; sponsorship opens doors by actively advocating for someone. Both matter, especially for under-represented talent — the difference is unpacked in mentorship vs sponsorship . Putting the MAP to work You don’t need a programme or a title to use this. Next time someone brings you something they’re wrestling with, run it quietly in your head. Mirror first: help them see it clearly before you say anything. Anchor next: offer the steadying perspective your experience gives you, honestly. Permission last: help them take the step they’re already leaning towards. You’ll often find you talk less and help more. Take it further The MAP is the practical heart of the keynote The Reluctant Mentor . Read the anchor guide, the reluctant mentor , for the fuller story, and credentials vs credibility for why your lived experience is enough to start. Explore how I approach mentoring , or browse more guides when you’re ready. ## Common questions { Q: `What is the MAP framework for mentoring?`, A: `MAP stands for Mirror, Anchor, Permission — Joanne Lockwood’s simple model for what genuinely useful mentoring does. Mirror: help people see themselves, their situation and their options more clearly. Anchor: offer grounded perspective from real experience, not theory alone. Permission: help them take the next step they often already know they need to take. It’s deliberately small, because the role is more human and less grand than the word “mentor” suggests.`, }, { Q: `Is mentoring the same as coaching, therapy or being a guru?`, A: `No. Mentoring isn’t therapy or counselling — it doesn’t treat or diagnose. It isn’t formal executive coaching, which is a distinct, often non-directive discipline. And it certainly isn’t guru-ship, where the mentor is the source of all answers and the mentee becomes dependent. Mentoring in the MAP sense is standing beside someone with perspective: a useful mirror, a steady anchor and, when it helps, a permission slip.`, }, { Q: `What does “standing beside, not above” mean in practice?`, A: `It means you ask more than you tell, listen for what the person actually needs rather than what you assume, and let them reach their own conclusions with you as a companion rather than a commander. You share what the road looked like for you — including the mistakes — without positioning yourself as superior or making them dependent on you. The aim is to leave them more capable and more confident on their own, not more reliant on you.`, }, --- ### Inclusive mentoring: mentorship vs sponsorship https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/inclusive-mentoring-mentorship-vs-sponsorship Mentorship is advice and guidance — often private conversations where you help someone reflect, develop and find their footing. Sponsorship is active advocacy: spending your own credibility and capital to open doors for someone, especially in the rooms they aren’t in. A mentor talks to you. A sponsor talks about you — when it counts, and where it counts. The inclusion gap nobody names Here’s a pattern I see again and again: under-represented talent is over-mentored and under-sponsored. There’s plenty of advice on offer — coffee chats, development plans, encouraging words — but not nearly enough advocacy. People are generous with guidance and cautious with capital. The distinction matters because the two do fundamentally different things. Mentoring tells someone how to navigate the system as it is. Sponsorship changes the system’s decisions in their favour. You can have the best mentor in the world and still never get named for the opportunity that actually moves your career — because the conversation that mattered happened in a room you weren’t in, and nobody in it spoke up for you. Why advice is easy and advocacy is hard Mentoring feels safe. It costs you an hour and some goodwill, and it carries no risk to your own standing. Sponsorship asks more. It means putting your name next to someone else’s, staking your reputation on their potential, and arguing for them when there’s something to lose. That’s precisely why the gap opens up. Affinity bias means we most readily sponsor the people who remind us of ourselves — the same school, the same accent, the same way of carrying themselves. So those already under-represented end up with no shortage of advice and a real shortage of advocates. The fix isn’t more mentoring. It’s deliberate sponsorship of the people the system tends to overlook. How to mentor across difference well Mentoring someone whose experience differs from yours is valuable — but only if you do it with care. A few principles I hold to: Don’t make your mentee your educator. It isn’t their job to teach you about their identity, community or lived experience. Do that learning on your own time. Don’t ask them to prove themselves twice. If others get the benefit of the doubt, your mentee deserves it too. Watch for the quiet double standard where they have to demonstrate competence others are simply assumed to have. Watch your affinity bias. Notice who you instinctively offer to help — and who you don’t. The people most like you are rarely the people who most need your backing. Help them belong and rise — not just “fit in”. Good mentoring builds confidence and access on someone’s own terms. It doesn’t quietly coach them to assimilate and shrink themselves to be more palatable. What sponsorship looks like in practice Sponsorship isn’t a feeling — it’s a set of actions, and most of them happen when your person isn’t in the room: Naming them for the stretch project. When the high-visibility piece of work is being allocated, you put their name forward — and back it up. The promotion conversation. When succession and progression are being discussed behind closed doors, you advocate for them specifically, with evidence. The introduction. You connect them to the people who matter, and you lend your own credibility to the introduction rather than leaving them to cold-knock. Each of these spends something of yours — your political capital, your reputation, your relationships. That’s the point. If it costs you nothing, it probably isn’t sponsorship. A challenge to leaders So here’s the question I’d leave any leader with: who are you sponsoring , not just mentoring? Make a list. Be honest about whose doors you’ve actually opened in the last year, whose name you’ve put forward when there was something at stake, and who you’ve advocated for when they weren’t there to hear it. If the list of people you mentor is long and the list of people you sponsor is short — or looks a lot like you — that’s the gap to close. Inclusion isn’t proven by how much advice you give. It’s proven by whose decisions you’re willing to change. Take it further If you want this woven into how your leaders develop talent, my mentoring work focuses on exactly this — turning good intentions into active advocacy. For a related read, see How to be a trans ally at work , which covers advocating for people in the rooms they’re not in. Browse more guides or get in touch to talk it through. ## Common questions { Q: `What is the difference between mentorship and sponsorship?`, A: `Mentorship is advice and guidance — usually private conversations where someone helps you reflect, develop and navigate your career. Sponsorship is active advocacy: someone spending their own credibility and capital to open doors for you, especially in the rooms you’re not in. A mentor talks to you; a sponsor talks about you. Both matter, but they’re not the same thing, and most people offer far more of the first than the second.`, }, { Q: `Why are under-represented people over-mentored and under-sponsored?`, A: `It’s a well-documented pattern: under-represented talent often receives plenty of advice but not enough advocacy. Mentoring feels safe and supportive, so it’s offered freely. Sponsorship asks more of the sponsor — it means staking your own reputation on someone, naming them for opportunities and arguing for them in decision-making rooms. Affinity bias means people most readily sponsor those who remind them of themselves, so those already under-represented are left with guidance but without the advocacy that actually changes outcomes.`, }, { Q: `How do I mentor someone across difference well?`, A: `Don’t make your mentee your educator — it isn’t their job to teach you about their identity or lived experience. Don’t ask them to prove themselves twice when others only have to once. Watch your affinity bias in who you choose to help, and make sure you’re supporting people to belong and rise on their own terms, not just to fit in and assimilate. Good cross-difference mentoring builds someone’s confidence and access — it doesn’t quietly ask them to become more like you.`, }, --- ### Mentoring in the age of AI https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/mentoring-in-the-age-of-ai Mentoring in the age of AI is about leading people well through a wave of change — helping leaders use increasingly capable tools without losing the human in the loop. It’s less about which platform you pick and more about the judgement, trust and accountability that no tool can hold for you. AI amplifies the culture it enters Here’s the line I keep coming back to: AI amplifies the culture it enters . It doesn’t fix a broken culture — it scales it. If your organisation runs on trust, clarity and good judgement, AI will make those strengths faster and sharper. If it runs on ambiguity, blame and burnout, AI will make those louder too. That’s why I treat AI adoption as a culture and judgement problem first, and a technology problem second. The leaders who get the most from these tools aren’t the ones who learned the cleverest prompts — they’re the ones who already had something worth amplifying. So before we talk about tools, we talk about the culture they’re about to pour into. What to delegate, and what to never outsource AI is genuinely good at a particular kind of work — the first 70 per cent. I encourage the leaders I mentor to hand over the parts that drain time without drawing on what makes them human: Drafting — first versions of emails, briefs and proposals. Summarising — condensing long documents, threads and reports. First passes — structuring a plan or shaping rough ideas. Session notes — capturing and tidying what was discussed. And then there’s the work you must never outsource — not because AI can’t attempt it, but because the moment it does, you’ve given away the very thing leadership is for: Judgement — deciding what actually matters and what to do about it. Trust — the relationship you hold with your people over time. Accountability — owning the outcome, especially when it goes wrong. The human moment — the difficult conversation, the recognition, the apology, the reassurance that only lands when a person delivers it. The risk of outsourcing your thinking My biggest worry isn’t that AI replaces leaders — it’s that it quietly hollows out their thinking. These tools can make us faster at being shallow. You can produce a confident, well-formatted answer in seconds and never actually wrestle with the question. Speed feels like progress, but skipping the thinking is how judgement atrophies. Mentoring keeps the reflection in. When a leader brings me an AI-generated plan, my job isn’t to admire how polished it is — it’s to ask the questions the tool didn’t: What are you assuming? Who’s affected? What would you do if the tool weren’t available? That pause is where the real leadership lives. Using AI well within mentoring I’m not precious about this — I use AI in my own mentoring practice. But I’m deliberate about where. It belongs in the scaffolding around the relationship, never in the relationship itself: Reflection prompts — helping a mentee prepare before we meet, so we spend our time on what matters. Note-taking — capturing what was agreed so neither of us is scrambling to remember. Action tracking — keeping momentum between sessions and gently chasing the commitments that tend to slip. What stays human is the listening, the challenge and the trust built over time. The tool serves the relationship; it never becomes it. Adopting AI without losing people Most of the anxiety I hear about AI isn’t really about the technology — it’s about belonging. People want to know whether there’s still a place for them. If leaders roll out AI without naming that fear, they don’t just risk a clumsy adoption; they risk losing the trust that makes any change possible. So I mentor leaders to adopt AI and keep their people — to be clear about what’s changing, honest about what isn’t, and visible in how they protect the human moments that matter. Done well, AI frees people up for the work that needs them most. Done carelessly, it tells them they’re replaceable. The difference is leadership. For more on where this is heading, explore AI, belonging and the future of work as a keynote or workshop theme, or read more on how I approach mentoring . Take it further Browse more guides on inclusion, leadership and belonging, or get in touch to talk about mentoring through AI change. A 30-minute conversation is a good place to start. ## Common questions { Q: `Will AI fix a struggling team culture?`, A: `No. AI amplifies the culture it enters — it doesn't fix a broken culture, it scales it, the good and the bad alike. If trust is thin and decisions are unclear, AI simply makes those problems faster and louder. That's why leading AI adoption is a culture and judgement problem, not just a technology one. Get the culture right first, then let the tools amplify something worth amplifying.`, }, { Q: `What should leaders never delegate to AI?`, A: `Judgement, trust, accountability, the human moment and the difficult conversation. You can hand AI a first draft, a summary or a set of session notes — but the decision about what to do with them, and the responsibility for getting it wrong, stays with you. The relationship a leader holds with their people cannot be outsourced. AI can support the work around it, but it can't be the one who shows up.`, }, { Q: `How can AI be used well within mentoring itself?`, A: `I use AI for the supporting scaffolding — reflection prompts, note-taking, action tracking between sessions — while the human relationship stays firmly at the centre. It can help a mentee prepare, capture what was agreed and keep momentum going. What it never replaces is the listening, the challenge and the trust built between two people over time. The tool serves the relationship; it never becomes it.`, }, --- ### Trans inclusion mentoring & fractional support https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/trans-inclusion-mentoring Fractional inclusion support is a part-time, ongoing arrangement in which I act as an embedded inclusion lead alongside your HR, DEI, legal and leadership teams — helping you build confident, defensible, day-to-day trans and LGBTQ+ inclusion. Rather than a single event, it’s a steady relationship: mentoring your people, sitting in your governance forums, and helping you make proportionate decisions as situations arise. Please note: I am an inclusion practitioner, not a lawyer. Nothing on this page is legal advice. For any policy decision, complaints process or question of legal obligation, your organisation should seek professional legal counsel. I work alongside your legal advisers — I do not replace them. Who this is for This support is for organisations that want a steady, experienced hand rather than a one-off workshop — especially while the landscape feels uncertain. If your team is confident in principle but finds itself hesitating in practice — unsure how to phrase a policy, how to respond to a concern, or how to keep momentum without overreaching — that’s exactly where I add value. The current UK environment is more complex and more closely scrutinised than it was a few years ago. Many leaders tell me they don’t want another awareness session; they want someone experienced in the room as decisions get made. Fractional support gives you that continuity without the cost or commitment of a permanent hire. What fractional support looks like in practice The shape of the work is tailored to your organisation, but it typically combines regular mentoring with embedded, hands-on support: Regular mentoring and coaching sessions for named stakeholders — your DEI lead, HR business partners, ERG chairs or sponsoring executives — so that confidence and capability stay inside your organisation. Joining or chairing ERGs and working groups, bringing structure, momentum and an experienced perspective to the conversations that shape your culture. Reviewing or helping draft policy text and board papers, so the language is clear, proportionate and practical — always alongside, never instead of, your legal advisers. Being the subject-matter-expert voice in governance forums, contributing grounded, defensible input where inclusion questions are decided. Supporting complaints-response planning and internal communications, helping you think through tone, timing and process calmly and professionally before you need to act. Throughout, the work is grounded in lived experience and practical judgement — confident without being adversarial. My aim is to help you hold a clear, considered position, not to import slogans or activism into your organisation. The output: an Implementation Playbook Over the course of the engagement, the work builds towards a tangible asset: an organisational Implementation Playbook. This brings together the action plans, frameworks and a monitoring approach that your teams can own and maintain after the engagement ends. The Playbook is designed to outlast my involvement. It captures the decisions you’ve made, the rationale behind them, and a way of tracking progress — so inclusion becomes part of how the organisation works rather than something dependent on any one individual. Training is scoped separately Fractional support is about advisory continuity, mentoring and embedded judgement. Training — keynotes, workshops and eLearning — is a distinct piece of work that I scope separately, because it serves a different purpose. The two complement each other well: the playbook sets direction, and training brings your wider workforce along. I’m happy to talk through how they fit together for your situation. How this connects to my wider work Fractional support sits alongside the practical, day-to-day guidance I share elsewhere. For the everyday foundations, read trans inclusion at work , and explore LGBTQIA+ inclusion and pride as a keynote or workshop theme. You can also learn more about my mentoring approach and how we might work together. Take it further If you’re weighing up whether ongoing, fractional support is right for your organisation, the simplest next step is a conversation. We can talk through where you are, what feels uncertain, and whether this kind of steady partnership would help. ## Common questions { Q: `What is a fractional inclusion lead, and how is it different from training?`, A: `A fractional inclusion lead is an experienced practitioner who works alongside your organisation on an ongoing, part-time basis — rather than delivering a single event and leaving. I sit with your HR, DEI, legal and leadership teams over weeks and months, mentoring named stakeholders, joining governance forums, and helping you make confident, proportionate decisions as situations arise. Training — workshops and eLearning — is a separate, complementary piece of work that I scope independently. Fractional support is about building lasting internal capability, not delivering a one-off.`, }, { Q: `Is this legal advice?`, A: `No. I am an inclusion practitioner, not a lawyer, and nothing I provide is legal advice. I help you build practical, proportionate, day-to-day inclusion and bring lived experience and subject-matter judgement to your conversations. For any policy decision, complaints process or question of legal obligation, you should seek professional legal counsel. I work alongside your legal advisers — I do not replace them.`, }, { Q: `Can you help while the UK landscape feels uncertain?`, A: `Yes — that is often exactly when organisations find this support most useful. The current UK environment is more complex and more closely scrutinised than it was, and many teams want a steady, experienced voice in the room rather than another one-off workshop. I help you stay confident without being adversarial: grounded, proportionate and defensible. I will not, however, interpret case law or give a legal opinion — that remains the proper role of your professional legal advisers.`, }, --- ### Trans & gender identity: terms explained https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/trans-and-gender-identity-terms-explained Gender identity is a person's internal, deeply held sense of who they are — man, woman, non-binary, or something else. It is not the same as biological sex, which is recorded at birth. The two can match, or they can differ, and both are real and valid. Understanding the distinction is the foundation for everything else on this page. Transgender A transgender person is someone whose gender identity differs from the sex they were assigned at birth. A transgender woman was assigned male at birth and knows herself to be a woman. A transgender man was assigned female at birth and knows himself to be a man. Transgender is an adjective, not a noun — say "a transgender person" or "a trans woman", not "a transgender" or "a transgendered". As Joanne puts it in her Trans 101 training: "cisgender and transgender are descriptive words. They're adjectives. They describe someone's gender identity, not a separate category of person." Cisgender Cisgender — often shortened to "cis" — describes a person whose gender identity aligns with the sex they were assigned at birth. Most people are cisgender. The word exists simply to name what was previously treated as the unnamed default. Neither "cis" nor "trans" carries judgement; they are descriptive words, like "tall" or "left-handed". Non-binary Non-binary is an umbrella term for gender identities that sit outside the binary of man/woman. Some non-binary people experience their gender as a mix, some as fluid, some as neither. Non-binary people may or may not also identify as transgender — it depends on the individual. Many use they/them pronouns, though some use other pronouns or a combination. Gender identity vs biological sex Biological sex typically refers to the combination of chromosomes, hormones and anatomy recorded at birth — and even this is more varied than the simple male/female split suggests (intersex conditions are more common than many people realise). Gender identity is distinct: it is a person's inner sense of self, which may or may not align with the sex recorded at birth. One sits in the body; the other in the person. Gender expression Gender expression is how someone outwardly presents their gender — through clothing, hairstyle, voice, mannerisms and so on. It is not the same as gender identity. A person's expression may be conventionally masculine, conventionally feminine, androgynous or something else, and this does not tell you their gender identity. Avoid making assumptions about how someone identifies based on how they look. The trans umbrella "Trans" is used as an umbrella term to include everyone who identifies across or beyond the gender they were assigned at birth. Under this umbrella you will find trans women, trans men, non-binary people, gender-fluid people, genderqueer people, and others. As Joanne explains in her training: "trans is an umbrella term to include those who identify across the gender spectrum." Each person under it has their own story; no single experience speaks for all. Other terms you'll encounter Gender-fluid. A person whose gender identity shifts or moves over time rather than remaining fixed. Genderqueer. An identity that challenges conventional notions of gender — often used by people who feel outside or between the binary. Intersex. A person born with sex characteristics (chromosomes, hormones, anatomy) that don't fit typical definitions of male or female. Intersex is a biological variation, distinct from gender identity. Questioning. Someone exploring or working out their gender identity or sexual orientation. There is no deadline — questioning is a valid place to be. Agender. A person who does not identify with any gender, or who experiences themselves as without gender. Transition. The process of aligning one's lived experience with one's gender identity. This may include social changes (name, pronouns, clothing), legal changes (documents), and/or medical steps — but it is always personal. There is no single way to transition, and no requirement to transition in any particular way. Pronouns Pronouns are how we refer to people when we are not using their name: she/her, he/him, they/them, and others. Using the correct pronouns is not optional — as Joanne says, it is "a fundamental aspect of respect and inclusion." Avoid the phrase "preferred pronouns"; they are not preferred, they are simply a person's pronouns. If you are unsure, ask — and normalise sharing your own pronouns so that the question feels unremarkable for everyone. Misgendering — using the wrong pronouns or name — causes real distress. If you make a mistake, correct yourself briefly and move on. You do not need to over-apologise; just get it right next time. A note on language and judgement Language in this space is evolving, and some terms mean different things to different people. When in doubt, take Joanne's approach: "we need to be respectfully curious to make sure we understand who someone is and how they identify." Ask with genuine interest, listen, and follow the person's lead. Passing judgement — about whether someone "looks" trans, or whether their identity is "real" — reveals our own assumptions, not anything about them. Take it further Read the guide on supporting a colleague who is transitioning , explore the allyship guide , or browse all guides . Hear these topics explored in depth on the Inclusion Bites podcast . To book Joanne for a keynote or workshop on trans and LGBTQIA+ inclusion, visit the LGBTQIA+ inclusion topic page . ## Common questions { Q: `What is the difference between gender identity and biological sex?`, A: `Sex is typically recorded at birth based on anatomy and chromosomes. Gender identity is a person's internal, deeply held sense of who they are — whether that's a man, a woman, non-binary, or something else. The two don't always match, and gender identity is not determined by biology.`, }, { Q: `What does it mean to be non-binary?`, A: `Non-binary describes anyone whose gender identity doesn't fit neatly into the categories of 'man' or 'woman'. Some non-binary people feel partly both, partly neither, or something else entirely. Non-binary is an umbrella term, so the experience varies from person to person. Many non-binary people use they/them pronouns, though not all do.`, }, { Q: `What pronouns should I use for a transgender or non-binary person?`, A: `Use whatever pronouns the person uses for themselves. If you're unsure, it's fine to ask politely — or to listen and follow their lead. Using the correct pronouns is not optional; it's a fundamental aspect of respect and inclusion. If you make a mistake, correct yourself briefly and move on without making a big deal of it.`, }, --- ### Why trans inclusion matters to me https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/why-trans-inclusion-matters-to-me Trans inclusion matters to me because I am a transgender woman. My lived experience — the years of internal conflict, the courage it took to transition, and the profound change it brought to my sense of self — is not a footnote to this work. It is the work. Everything I do as a speaker, facilitator and inclusion expert starts here. A life lived in two chapters I spent the first five decades of my life knowing something was different but not quite having the language or the safety to name it. I remember having thoughts, feelings, a conflict, if you like, about my own sense of self, my gender — going back as far as childhood. Not dramatic moments, just a quiet, persistent sense that something didn't quite fit. I buried it under a career, a business, a life that looked, from the outside, completely successful. Then, as I got to about mid-40s, that old midlife crisis thing kicked in, and all of this stuff that had been going on in my head for most of my life started manifesting in a more tangible way. There was more awareness, more access to knowledge, more people I could find who understood. I came out. I transitioned. I sold my IT business. And I sat on the end of my bed wondering what came next. What came next was this: a passion for trans awareness, for inclusion, for belonging — and a conviction that I could use my story and my experience to make workplaces better for everyone. What those years gave me This experience over the last ten years has given me the ability to be more pragmatic about life, more pragmatic about other people. It's changed my outlook on acceptance and belongingness and inclusion and culture — on how I want to be treated, and how I believe every person deserves to be treated. I've walked into rooms as a senior IT executive and as a transgender woman speaker. I know what it feels like to belong and what it feels like to be tolerated — and I know which of those I'd choose every time. I'd rather be excluded and know where I stand than be tolerated and feel invisible. That experience is irreplaceable. No amount of training, research or good intentions gives you the same depth of understanding as having lived it. When I speak on a stage or sit in a workshop with your leadership team, I'm not relaying theory. I'm translating a human life — mine — into something your organisation can learn from. Why the work matters beyond me I want to be clear: I don't do this work solely for transgender people. I do it because I'm a great believer that the why should start about being a fantastic human being — creating environments, creating an ethos where people feel included. When we get that right, the output is positive people experiences for everyone: trans people, disabled colleagues, people of colour, neurodivergent individuals, carers, introverts, returners. Inclusion done well lifts the whole room. If you're not consciously including, you are likely to be inadvertently, unconsciously excluding. That's not a moral failing — it's how systems work when they're not intentionally designed. My job is to help you see the design, and then redesign it together. What I want for trans people at work Dignity, not debate. A trans colleague's identity is not a discussion topic. It is simply who they are. The energy an organisation spends on debate is energy taken away from inclusion. Practical support, not performative gestures. It's not necessarily about making me feel special — it's about not making me feel bullied, discriminated against, anxious or worried. Simple, consistent, human. Curiosity over fear. Most people aren't hostile — they're scared of getting it wrong. I tell organisations: that fear of getting it wrong should be your trigger to start learning, not your reason to stay silent. Allyship that holds. If you say nothing when you witness exclusion, you are effectively saying it's acceptable. With allyship, silence is not neutral — and holding the rope means staying when it's uncomfortable. Why I'll never stop doing this work There are days — and there are many of them right now — when the headlines are grim, the political environment is hostile and the progress feels fragile. I understand that weariness. But I keep coming back to something I said on a podcast not long ago: we should never drop the rope. Trans people, and the allies who stand with them, have to keep believing, keep trying, keep making sure we're not letting it slip. In order to be loved, you have to be lovable. In order to be liked, you have to be likeable. In order to be respected, you have to be worthy of respect. And that starts with me — with how I show up, how I tell my story and how I hold the space for others to learn. That's what I bring to every keynote, every fireside chat, every conversation. Where to go from here If this resonates with you, I'd love to talk. You can explore the LGBTQIA+ inclusion and Pride topic page to see how I work with organisations on trans and LGBTQIA+ inclusion specifically. Read more of my thinking across the guides library , or hear these conversations explored on the Inclusion Bites podcast . And if you're ready to bring this work into your organisation, get in touch — a conversation costs nothing and almost always opens something up. ## Common questions { Q: `Why does Joanne Lockwood focus on trans inclusion?`, A: `Joanne is a transgender woman and has lived the experience of navigating workplaces, relationships and society while transitioning. That lived experience sits at the heart of everything she does — it gives her both the insight to speak credibly on trans inclusion and the deep personal motivation to keep doing the work.`, }, { Q: `Is trans inclusion just about transgender people?`, A: `No — and that is one of the things Joanne feels most strongly about. When organisations build genuinely inclusive cultures, everyone benefits: people feel safer to be themselves, psychological safety goes up, and the whole team performs better. Trans inclusion is a specific lens, but the principles — dignity, respect, belonging — apply to every person in the organisation.`, }, { Q: `How can I bring Joanne in to talk about trans inclusion at my organisation?`, A: `Joanne offers keynotes, fireside chats, workshops and training programmes tailored to your context — from awareness sessions for all staff to deeper work with HR and leadership teams. The best starting point is a free 30-minute discovery call via the contact page on this site.`, }, --- ### Pride that lasts all year https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/pride-that-lasts-all-year Performative allyship is support that is visible but not sustained — the Pride logo that disappears on 1st July, the rainbow lanyard handed out at the all-hands, the social media post that isn't backed by a single policy change. Genuine LGBTQIA+ inclusion looks different: it shows up in how people are treated every day, not just during one designated month. Why June alone isn't enough I love Pride. As a transgender woman, I know what it means to have a month where queer and trans lives are celebrated rather than merely tolerated. But I also know the feeling — all too familiar — of watching an organisation go quiet on the first of July. The lanyards go back in a drawer. The logo reverts. The conversation stops. That gap between June and the rest of the year tells you everything about whether inclusion is genuinely valued or simply performed for optics. And the people it most affects — LGBTQIA+ employees, trans colleagues, young people watching to see whether they can be themselves at work — notice. They always notice. What rainbow washing actually costs Rainbow washing — superficial support for LGBTQIA+ people without genuine action behind it — is not a neutral act. It actively misleads people into thinking a culture is safer than it is. When someone joins an organisation because of the Pride content on its careers page and then discovers a workplace where homophobic banter goes unchallenged, or where their trans identity isn't reflected in a single policy, the damage to trust is significant. I've spoken on many a conference stage about the distinction between belonging on paper and belonging in practice. A rainbow banner creates neither. What creates belonging is the daily accumulation of interactions — the pronoun used correctly without fanfare, the colleague who speaks up when a joke lands wrong, the manager who actually reads the transgender inclusion policy before an employee comes out to them. The difference between performative and genuine allyship Genuine allyship is quieter and more consistent than a Pride post. It does not need an audience. Here is what it looks like in practice: Using correct pronouns without being reminded. It costs nothing and signals that a person's identity is respected, not accommodated. Challenging exclusion in the moment. Not after the meeting, not in a private message — in the room, when it happens. That's when it matters. Sponsoring LGBTQIA+ colleagues. Saying someone's name in rooms they are not in. Advocating for their promotion, their visibility, their seat at the table. Reading the actual policies. Knowing what your organisation's trans inclusion, parental leave, and domestic partner recognition policies say — before you need to act on them. Continuing the conversation in October. Or February. Or any month without a rainbow in it. What year-round LGBTQIA+ inclusion actually looks like When I talk to organisations about what genuine inclusion looks like, I ask them to think about their queer and trans colleagues — not as a category to be managed, but as people who come to work wanting to do their best without having to hide who they are. The question I put to leaders is this: what would your LGBTQIA+ employees say if you asked them, honestly, whether this workplace felt safe and welcoming to them today? Sustained inclusion requires sustained attention. It means: Auditing whether trans and non-binary people are specifically named and protected in HR policies — not just implied under a general equality clause. Resourcing LGBTQIA+ employee networks properly, with senior sponsorship and actual budget, rather than leaving them to run on volunteers' goodwill. Ensuring benefits — healthcare, parental leave, partner recognition — are genuinely equitable and reviewed with LGBTQIA+ employees' needs in mind. Training managers so that when a colleague comes out as trans or non-binary, the response is informed, calm and kind — not panicked or delegated entirely to HR. Making LGBTQIA+ inclusion a topic at leadership level in every quarter, not only the one that contains Pride. Pride as a practice, not an event I've said this in many rooms: belonging isn't a decoration you put up in June and take down in July. It is the air people breathe at work every day. Either the air is clean — people feel safe, seen and able to bring their full selves — or it isn't. No amount of rainbow merchandise changes the quality of the air. The organisations I most admire are the ones where LGBTQIA+ inclusion isn't a campaign. It's just how things are done. The policies are current. The leaders are informed. The culture is one where a trans employee telling their manager about their transition is met with warmth and preparation, not surprise. That doesn't happen by accident. It happens because someone decided it mattered all year round. Explore what active allyship looks like in practice, hear these themes discussed on the Inclusion Bites podcast , or read more in the guides library . ## Common questions { Q: `What is rainbow washing, and how can organisations avoid it?`, A: `Rainbow washing is when an organisation signals support for LGBTQIA+ people during Pride Month — changing logos, handing out rainbow lanyards, posting on social media — without any sustained action behind it. The tell is what happens in July. Avoiding it means treating LGBTQIA+ inclusion as a year-round commitment: inclusive policies, visible role models, psychological safety for queer and trans colleagues, and leaders willing to speak up when something goes wrong.`, }, { Q: `What does genuine allyship look like for LGBTQIA+ colleagues?`, A: `Genuine allyship is less visible and more consistent than a Pride post. It means using correct pronouns without being asked, challenging casual homophobia or transphobia when you hear it, sponsoring LGBTQIA+ colleagues in rooms they're not in, and ensuring HR processes and benefits are genuinely inclusive — not just nominally. Allyship is a practice, not a badge.`, }, { Q: `How can organisations make LGBTQIA+ inclusion meaningful beyond Pride Month?`, A: `Start by auditing what's actually in place: Are trans and non-binary employees specifically named in policies? Are employee networks resourced properly? Are inclusive benefits such as gender-affirming healthcare, domestic partner recognition, and parental leave policies genuinely equitable? Then make it a leadership conversation in January, March, and September — not only June. Sustained inclusion requires sustained attention.`, }, --- ### AI & bias at work https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/ai-and-bias-at-work AI bias at work occurs when an artificial intelligence system produces outcomes that are systematically unfair to certain groups — typically because it was trained on data reflecting existing inequalities, or because the people most affected were never part of the design process. AI can look and feel objective while reproducing exclusion at scale. The fix is not to avoid AI, but to use it with scrutiny, context and human oversight. Why AI is not a neutral tool There is a comforting idea that algorithms are more objective than people. They're not — they're a reflection of the data, assumptions and dominant perspectives baked into them during training. If the data collected historically over-represents one demographic, the model will treat that demographic as the default. Everyone else becomes an edge case: served less well, assessed less accurately, or simply not considered. This matters enormously at work, where AI is now embedded in recruitment screening, performance management, pay modelling and learning recommendations. When bias is invisible in the system, the decisions it shapes can appear objective even as they quietly entrench inequality. Who gets designed out The groups most exposed to AI bias tend to be those already underrepresented in the mainstream data that AI is trained on. That includes: LGBTQIA+ colleagues , whose identities and lived experiences are frequently absent from or misrepresented in large data sets. Neurodivergent employees , whose communication styles, working patterns and responses may not fit the behaviours the model was trained to recognise as high-performing. Disabled people , where AI-driven processes may not accommodate difference in input or output. Anyone outside the majority demographic at the time the training data was gathered — because the majority becomes the implicit standard against which everyone else is measured. The problem is not that these groups are unusual. The problem is that the system was designed without them in mind — or designed by a team that didn't include them at all. The risk of treating AI as an authority One of the most significant risks in deploying AI at work is the authority it is granted. When a system produces a ranking, a recommendation or a risk score, there is a strong organisational pull to treat that output as more reliable than a human judgement. The algorithm is assumed to have no agenda. But every algorithm inherits the agendas of the people and processes that shaped its training — they are just harder to see. Using AI as a proxy decision-maker — especially for decisions that affect people's careers, pay or dignity — hands power to a system that may not represent the people it is assessing. It also removes accountability: if the AI decides, no one person signed off. That is not efficiency; it is diffused responsibility. Five questions every organisation should ask Before deploying any AI tool that affects people, ask these questions and require honest answers: Who benefits? Which groups does this tool serve most effectively — and is that the full range of people in your workforce? Who is excluded? Which groups might be underserved, misrepresented or actively disadvantaged by the tool's outputs? Who decided? Was the procurement and design process representative of the people most affected? Who is heard? Whose feedback shapes ongoing review — including from those the tool assessed unfavourably? Where must human judgement remain central? Which decisions are too consequential, too personal or too context-dependent to delegate to an automated system? AI as augmenter, not authority None of this means AI has no place at work. Used well, it can be a powerful augmenter: a thinking partner, an accessibility aid, a way to reduce cognitive load and give colleagues more capacity for the work that requires human connection and judgement. The distinction that matters is between AI as a coach or sounding board — helping a person think, draft or prepare — and AI as a proxy decision-maker — replacing human judgement on matters that directly shape someone's opportunities and experience. Leaders who get this right use AI to augment the quality of their decisions, not to outsource them. They keep a human in the loop wherever the stakes are high — and they actively review whether AI-assisted processes are producing equitable outcomes across different groups, not just on average. Practical steps for leaders and HR Audit any AI-driven process that affects hiring, promotion or pay for disparate impact across protected characteristics. Involve diverse employees in procurement, piloting and ongoing review of AI tools — especially those from groups most likely to be edge cases. Document where AI is used in decisions and ensure there is always a named human responsible for the final call. Train managers to scrutinise, not simply accept, AI-generated recommendations. Build psychological safety so employees can raise concerns about AI-generated outcomes without fear of being dismissed as "anti-technology". Take it further Explore the speaking topic AI, Belonging and the Future of Work , read the companion guide AI, Belonging and the Future of Work , or hear these ideas explored across episodes of the Inclusion Bites podcast . ## Common questions { Q: `What is AI bias and why does it matter at work?`, A: `AI bias happens when a system produces outcomes that are systematically unfair to certain groups — often because it was trained on data that reflects existing inequalities or was built without those groups in the room. At work this matters because AI is now involved in hiring, performance assessment, pay modelling and access to development opportunities. When bias is baked in, decisions that look objective can quietly entrench exclusion at scale.`, }, { Q: `Who is most at risk from biased AI in the workplace?`, A: `People who are already underrepresented in mainstream data sets are most exposed: LGBTQIA+ colleagues, neurodivergent employees, disabled people, and others whose lives and working patterns differ from the majority. If training data was collected from a workforce that was predominantly one demographic, the model will treat that demographic as the default — and everyone else as an edge case.`, }, { Q: `How can organisations use AI more fairly?`, A: `Start by asking the questions: who benefits from this tool, who might be excluded, who decided to deploy it, and where must human judgement remain central? Use AI as an augmenter — a thinking aid, an accessibility tool, a sounding board — rather than a proxy decision-maker. Audit outputs for disparate impact, involve diverse voices in procurement and review, and make sure there is always a human in the loop for decisions that affect people's livelihoods and dignity.`, }, --- ### When AI escalates conflict https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/ai-grievances-keeping-humans-in-the-conversation The AI grievance loop is what happens when an employee uses AI to draft a formal complaint and HR uses AI to draft the response — and neither side pauses to check whether the output reflects what they actually want to say. Each tool validates its user, hardens the language, and adds legal framing. Two humans who might have resolved things over a conversation drift further apart, replaced in the exchange by algorithms optimised to sound convincing, not to reconcile. How AI changes the grievance process People have always sought help drafting difficult letters — from friends, union reps, solicitors. What has changed is the speed, the availability, and the nature of the help. AI tools are designed to be useful and agreeable. Ask one to help you write a grievance and it will strengthen your framing, sharpen your language, and — because it is trying to be helpful — validate the position you have already taken. It will not push back. It will not ask whether you have considered the other person's perspective. It will produce a document that reads with confidence and authority, even if that confidence is not quite warranted. The same thing happens on the HR side. A response drafted with AI assistance may be precise, measured, and legally cautious — but it can also feel cold and evasive to the person who receives it. The humanity drains out of the exchange on both sides, and what started as a workplace difficulty begins to look like the opening moves of a dispute. The sycophancy problem One of the most important things to understand about AI tools — whether or not you can name the technical reason — is that they are built to be agreeable. They validate your framing, agree with your interpretation, and reflect your view back at you in stronger language. This is sometimes called sycophancy: the model tells you what you want to hear. In a grievance context, this matters enormously. If you go to an AI feeling wronged, it will help you feel more wronged, and more certain about it. If HR goes to an AI feeling that a complaint is overblown, the response may come back subtly dismissive. Neither output reflects a balanced read of the situation — it reflects the user's starting position, polished and amplified. Critical thinking is not optional here. It is the thing that makes the difference between AI as a useful drafting aid and AI as an escalation engine. The hallucination risk in formal complaints AI tools can produce text that looks authoritative but is not accurate. In a grievance context, this might mean: Legal citations that do not exist, or cases that have been mischaracterised. References to policies, legislation or regulations that are wrong for your jurisdiction or out of date. Confident assertions about employment law that a qualified adviser would not make. Framing that overstates the severity of what happened, because the AI is optimising for a persuasive document. Neither party should accept AI-generated legal framing at face value. Verify any specific claim. If a letter cites a statute or a tribunal decision, look it up before acting on it. The fact that it appears in a formally structured document does not make it correct. What gets lost when AI does the talking Most workplace conflicts, when they surface as formal grievances, are not primarily legal disputes. They are human situations: someone felt overlooked, disrespected, excluded or mismanaged. The formal process exists to resolve those situations — but it can also entrench them. When AI steps in on both sides, the human signal gets buried under legal language. The question "what actually happened, and how do we move forward?" gets replaced by "what can be proven, and who bears liability?" What gets lost is nuance, context, tone, and the possibility of repair. Reconciliation requires both sides to feel heard as people. That is very hard to achieve through documents that neither side actually wrote. Keeping humans in the conversation Whether you are an employee, a manager, or an HR professional, there are practical things you can do to keep the human element central: Treat AI output as a draft, not a finished document. Read every sentence and ask: is this what I actually want to say? Does it reflect what genuinely happened? Would I say this to the person's face? Verify before you rely. Any legal citation, policy reference or regulatory claim should be checked independently. Do not send a document that makes assertions you cannot personally stand behind. Resist the pull towards position-taking. Formal language locks people into stances. If the situation can be addressed informally — a facilitated conversation, a mediation, a direct discussion — that is nearly always preferable to exchanging documents. Name what is happening. If you suspect an AI-drafted letter has inflated the framing, it is reasonable to say so — calmly, without dismissing the underlying concern. The complaint may be entirely sincere even if the language is not quite the person's own. Pick up the phone. Text on a screen cannot convey tone, regret, willingness, or good faith the way a voice can. Before the process hardens, try a conversation. For leaders and HR: what this means in practice This is not an argument against employees using AI, or against HR using it. It is an argument for awareness. People will use the tools available to them — that is human nature, and AI tools are genuinely useful for people who find formal writing daunting or who struggle to articulate something in the heat of the moment. What leaders and HR teams can do is build a culture and a process that makes de-escalation easier than escalation. That means early informal resolution routes, trained managers who can hold difficult conversations well, and a commitment to understanding what someone is really trying to say — not just what their letter appears to claim. It also means being honest with yourselves about how your own use of AI tools might be shaping your responses. If your reply to a grievance was drafted with AI assistance, read it with the same critical eye you would want the other side to apply. Does it actually address the person's concern, or does it just close down the argument? AI, belonging, and the future of work The AI grievance loop is one instance of a broader challenge: AI tools are increasingly shaping how we communicate at work, and not always in ways that bring people together. Explore more on this theme in the guide to AI, belonging and the future of work , or hear how I explore these ideas through the speaking topic AI, Belonging & The Future of Work . For a wider view, browse more guides or listen to the Inclusion Bites podcast . ## Common questions { Q: `What is the AI grievance loop?`, A: `The AI grievance loop is what happens when an employee uses AI to draft a formal complaint, HR uses AI to draft the response, and neither side checks whether the outputs actually reflect what the humans want to say. Each AI system tends to validate its user, harden the language, and add legal framing — so two documents that started as a misunderstanding can end up looking like opening submissions to a tribunal. The humans drift further apart while the AI does the talking.`, }, { Q: `Can I use AI to help write a grievance or complaint at work?`, A: `You can, but you should treat what it produces as a first draft, not a finished letter. AI tools are designed to be helpful and agreeable — they will validate your framing, strengthen your language, and may add legal-sounding phrases that go further than you actually mean or that are simply inaccurate. Read every sentence critically before you send anything. Ask yourself: does this say what I genuinely want to say, or has the AI turned a conversation into a court case?`, }, { Q: `How should HR respond when they suspect a grievance has been AI-generated?`, A: `Do not treat it as automatically invalid — AI-assisted does not mean insincere. Focus on the substance: what is the person actually trying to tell you? Where the language feels inflated or the legal citations look unusual, verify them independently rather than accepting them at face value. Resist the urge to fire back with an equally AI-hardened response. The goal is to return to human dialogue — so pick up the phone, invite a conversation, and try to understand what is really going on.`, }, --- ### The AI readiness divide https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/the-ai-readiness-divide The AI readiness divide is the gap between people who engage with artificial intelligence tools with confidence, competence and critical thinking — and those who do not. It isn't primarily a technology problem; it's a people problem. And because it tracks existing inequalities in education, role, seniority and support, it is an inclusion problem too. From digital divide to capability divide We spent years worrying about the digital divide — the gap between those with access to computers and the internet and those without. That challenge hasn't gone away, but AI has added a new layer. Access to an AI tool costs almost nothing. The barrier now is capability: the confidence to try, the competence to use it well, and the critical thinking to know when the output is wrong, misleading or just mediocre. That capability gap is not randomly distributed. It tends to favour people who are already advantaged: those with more education, more discretionary time, more senior roles, more psychological safety to experiment and get things wrong. If organisations ignore it, AI will amplify existing inequalities rather than reduce them. A spectrum of adopters, sceptics and resistors Inside any organisation, people's relationship with AI falls across a spectrum. Some embrace it enthusiastically — perhaps too enthusiastically, using it to outsource thinking rather than augment it. Others approach it with healthy caution, asking sensible questions about privacy, accuracy and intellectual property. And some resist it altogether, often for reasons that deserve to be heard rather than dismissed. Enthusiastic adopters can move fast and find genuine productivity gains — but may share sensitive data carelessly, accept AI output without scrutiny, or produce what's increasingly called "slop": high-volume, low-quality content that looks polished but lacks substance. Thoughtful sceptics ask the right questions about data privacy, intellectual property leakage, accuracy and bias. This caution is a feature, not a bug — organisations need these voices at the table. Resistors may be reacting to fear, past poor experiences with technology change, a sense of being left behind, or genuine ethical concern. Their reluctance deserves curiosity, not pressure. The goal isn't to move everyone to enthusiastic adoption. It's to ensure that no one is left so far behind that they cannot participate meaningfully in a working world that increasingly assumes AI fluency. Healthy caution versus organisational paralysis There is a world of difference between thoughtful governance and a blanket ban. Some organisations, faced with uncertainty, have responded by prohibiting the use of AI tools entirely. That approach carries its own risks: employees use them anyway, just covertly; the organisation falls behind its competitors; and the people most likely to find workarounds are, once again, those who were already advantaged. Healthy caution means clear guidance on what data must never enter an AI system, which tools are approved and why, and how to sense-check output before acting on it. It means proportionate governance — not fear dressed up as policy. The problem with lazy AI use One of the risks that doesn't get enough airtime is what happens when people use AI as a replacement for thinking rather than a support for it. Paste in a prompt, accept the output, hit send. The result can look credible while being hollow — or worse, subtly wrong. This matters for inclusion because it can embed bias at scale: AI systems trained on skewed data will reproduce skewed outputs, and if no one is checking critically, that bias gets laundered through a veneer of automation. Good AI literacy isn't just about knowing how to write a prompt. It's about maintaining the judgement to interrogate what comes back. What inclusive AI readiness looks like Closing the AI readiness divide requires action at every level: Role-relevant literacy. Generic AI training doesn't land. People need to see how these tools apply to their specific work — and to practise in a context that makes sense to them. Safe spaces for experimentation. People learn AI by using it, making mistakes and reflecting. That requires psychological safety — the permission to try without fear of humiliation or punishment. Governance without fear. Clear, proportionate policies that address privacy and IP honestly, rather than vague prohibitions that drive use underground. Leaders who model responsible use. When senior people talk openly about how they're using AI — what they find useful, what they're cautious about, how they check outputs — it normalises the conversation and gives others permission to engage. Accessibility by design. AI tools, training materials and internal guidance should be accessible to people with different learning needs, languages, digital confidence levels and working patterns. Why this is an inclusion issue If you care about equity and belonging in your organisation, the AI readiness divide belongs on your agenda. The people most likely to be left behind are often those already navigating other barriers: disabled colleagues who may need specific adjustments to engage with AI tools; people in lower-paid or more operational roles who receive less training investment; those from communities with well-founded historical reasons to distrust technology. Inclusion means ensuring that the AI transition doesn't replicate the inequalities it could, with intention, help to reduce. Explore how AI connects with belonging and the future of work in the guide AI, Belonging and the Future of Work , or hear these themes explored in depth on the AI & Belonging speaking topic . Take it further Read more in the guides library , or hear Joanne explore belonging, culture and the future of work on the Inclusion Bites podcast . ## Common questions { Q: `What is the AI readiness divide?`, A: `The AI readiness divide is the growing gap between people who can use AI tools with confidence, competence and critical judgement — and those who cannot. Unlike the old digital divide, which was mainly about access to technology, this one is about capability: the skills, the trust and the space to experiment responsibly. It shows up inside organisations as a spectrum of adopters, sceptics and resistors, and if left unaddressed it becomes an inclusion problem.`, }, { Q: `How should organisations respond to employees who are resistant to AI?`, A: `With curiosity, not pressure. Resistance often reflects legitimate concerns — about data privacy, job security, quality, or simply not feeling equipped. Leaders who dismiss those concerns or mandate adoption without support will deepen the divide rather than close it. The better response is to create safe spaces for experimentation, provide role-relevant AI literacy, and address governance questions honestly. Healthy caution is valuable; organisational paralysis is not.`, }, { Q: `What does inclusive AI adoption look like in practice?`, A: `It means treating AI readiness as an equity issue, not just a productivity one. That involves accessible, role-relevant training rather than one-size-fits-all tutorials; clear governance that protects people's data and intellectual property without banning tools outright; leaders who normalise responsible AI use by modelling it themselves; and ongoing conversations about quality and critical thinking — so that AI augments human judgement rather than replacing it.`, }, --- ### Using AI for good https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/using-ai-for-good-at-work Using AI for good at work means moving beyond the question of whether AI is risky and asking instead: how do we use it intentionally, with inclusive governance and human judgement at the centre? AI can support belonging — helping neurodivergent colleagues structure communication, improving accessibility, and giving managers a reflection tool for their language — but only when the organisation it enters has already committed to building an inclusive culture. The question organisations are asking wrong Most workplace conversations about AI start with risk: hallucinations, bias in hiring algorithms, data privacy, job displacement. These are real concerns and they deserve attention. But stopping at risk means organisations either ban AI out of fear or adopt it uncritically out of enthusiasm, and neither position serves the people doing the work. The better question is: how do we use AI with intention? That means asking who benefits, who is left out, and what human judgement needs to remain in the loop before AI output shapes a decision about a person. How AI can actively support inclusion When used thoughtfully, AI removes friction that disproportionately burdens people who are already navigating more barriers. Some practical examples: Neurodivergent colleagues can use AI to help structure written communication, draft emails when executive function is depleted, or prepare for conversations that feel cognitively demanding. Accessibility improves when AI generates transcripts, summarises long documents, converts formats, or produces plain-English versions of complex policy. Managers can use AI as a reflection partner — checking their language in performance reviews, testing whether feedback is specific and fair, or thinking through how to approach a sensitive conversation before having it. Learning access opens up when people can ask AI to explain a concept in their own terms, at their own pace, without the social risk of asking a question in a room. Difficult conversations become less daunting when someone can rehearse their thinking with an AI coach before raising a concern with HR or a line manager. The framework: human judgement + critical thinking + inclusive governance AI as coach, augmenter and reflection partner is genuinely useful. But it requires a framework. I work with organisations around three pillars: Human judgement. AI output is a starting point, not a conclusion. Anywhere a decision touches a person — hiring, performance, reasonable adjustments, disciplinary — a human must review and own the outcome. Critical thinking. Inclusive prompting matters: the questions you ask AI shape the answers you get. Teaching people to interrogate AI output — to ask "whose perspective is missing here?" — is as important as teaching them to use the tools. Inclusive governance. Clear escalation routes when something feels wrong. Psychological safety so people can raise concerns without fear of being seen as obstructive. Policies that are reviewed for who they exclude, not just what they permit. The amplification problem My signature observation on this is blunt: AI will not automatically create a more inclusive workplace — it will amplify the culture it enters. If your recruitment process already disadvantages certain candidates, an AI screening tool will do that faster and at greater scale. If your performance review language already reflects who the manager is most comfortable with, AI-assisted templates will embed that pattern. This is not an argument against AI. It is an argument for doing the cultural work first — or at least alongside — the technology adoption. The future of belonging and AI is not determined by the tools themselves; it is determined by the intentions, governance and humility of the people deploying them. Psychological safety and experimentation One of the less-discussed inclusion risks around AI is what happens when people are afraid to experiment with it. If the culture signals that using AI is cheating, or that getting it wrong is a disciplinary matter, the people who will quietly use it anyway are those with the most confidence and the least to lose. Everyone else falls further behind. Building psychological safety around AI experimentation — naming it as a learning curve, not a competency test — is itself an inclusion intervention. It ensures the benefits of AI are distributed, not hoarded by those already advantaged. From risk to intentional practice The shift I encourage organisations to make is from asking "is AI risky?" to asking "how do we adopt it responsibly?" That means: Auditing existing processes for bias before AI is applied to them. Defining which decisions require human sign-off, always, without exception. Training people in inclusive prompting — better questions produce better outputs. Creating visible escalation routes and making it easy to flag concerns. Reviewing AI tools through the lens of who benefits and who is systematically disadvantaged by them. Explore how this connects to the broader topic of AI, belonging, and the future of work , or hear Joanne explore these ideas in depth on the Inclusion Bites podcast . ## Common questions { Q: `Will AI make our workplace more inclusive automatically?`, A: `No. AI will amplify the culture it enters. If your organisation already has bias in its processes, language or decisions, AI will accelerate that — not correct it. Intentional governance, human oversight, and inclusive prompting are what turn AI from a risk into a genuine tool for belonging.`, }, { Q: `How can AI support neurodivergent or disabled colleagues?`, A: `Thoughtfully used, AI can help neurodivergent colleagues structure written communication, prepare for difficult conversations, or draft emails when executive function is low. It can generate transcripts, summarise long documents, and produce alternative formats. The key word is "support" — it removes friction, not the person's agency.`, }, { Q: `What does responsible AI adoption look like in practice?`, A: `It starts with a framework: human judgement plus critical thinking plus inclusive governance. That means human review before AI output reaches sensitive decisions, clear escalation routes when something feels wrong, psychological safety so people can raise concerns without fear, and ongoing reflection on whether AI tools are working for everyone — not just the majority.`, }, --- ### Using AI responsibly and inclusively https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/using-ai-responsibly-and-inclusively Most people aren’t reckless with AI and they aren’t refuseniks either — they’re somewhere in the middle, using it day to day and quietly wondering whether they’re doing it well. That’s the honest place to start. The question isn’t whether you use AI; it’s how . And the answer comes down to a handful of habits you can build into ordinary work, no technical wizardry required. These are the six places responsible, inclusive AI use shows up most — the same six the free “Do you use AI responsibly and inclusively?” self-check measures. Read them as a set of practical instincts, not a compliance checklist. 1. Stay alert to bias AI learns from the world as it is, which means it can encode and scale the very biases we’re trying to undo. A tool can be confidently, fluently wrong — and because it’s fast and plausible, that wrongness spreads. The habit here is suspicion of the smooth answer: ask whose perspective is baked in, whose isn’t, and who tends to pay when the model gets it wrong. For the deeper mechanics of how this happens, see AI & bias at work: who gets designed in? 2. Keep a human in the loop Use AI as a tool, not an oracle. Its output is a first draft, never the final word — and the habit to build is the pause between generating and sending. Read it with your own judgement, check it against what you actually know, and own the decision yourself. This matters most when the output touches a real person: a shortlist, an assessment, a reply to someone who’s upset. When AI starts drafting the messages that shape conflict, things escalate fast — keeping humans in the conversation explores exactly that. 3. Be open about using it Transparency is half of doing this well. You don’t need a disclaimer on every email, but where AI has shaped something that affects people, say so plainly. Hidden, unchecked use is how AI does its quiet harm — and openness does the opposite. It lets people trust the work, and it lets colleagues learn from how you do it. Thoughtful practice only spreads when it’s visible. 4. Design for the edges The real test of inclusive AI is who it serves at the margins, not the average. Does the output read clearly for someone using a screen reader? Does it assume a name, a culture, a body, a way of working that not everyone shares? Used well, AI is a brilliant accessibility aid — it can open doors that were closed. Used carelessly, it narrows them. Ask “who might this leave out?” as routinely as you ask “is this right?”. More on that in AI, belonging and the future of work . 5. Care for people’s data and dignity Behind a lot of AI inputs sit real people — their words, their details, their stories. Treat that data the way you’d want your own treated: only share what you genuinely need, think about consent before you feed something personal into a tool, and never let efficiency cost someone their dignity. This isn’t legal advice, and your organisation will have its own rules to follow — but the human instinct underneath the rules is simple. Would the person whose data this is feel respected by what you just did? 6. Model good use The last habit is the one that multiplies the rest: use AI well yourself, and help the people around you do the same. That means showing your working, being honest about what AI can and can’t do, and bringing colleagues alongside rather than racing ahead. A real divide is opening up between those who can use these tools with judgement and those left behind — and closing it is everyone’s job. The AI readiness divide unpacks why, and using AI for good at work shows what good, inclusive practice looks like in action. From habits to a way of working None of this asks you to become an expert overnight — that pressure is exactly what keeps people frozen. Pick one habit, build it until it’s automatic, then add the next. AI amplifies good or harm; you choose which, one small step at a time. When all six pull the same way — you see the risk, check the output, say so plainly, design for the edges, guard the data, and bring people with you — AI becomes a tool that widens the door rather than narrowing it. ## Common questions { Q: 'What does it mean to use AI inclusively at work?', A: 'Using AI inclusively means treating it as a tool that amplifies good or harm, and choosing the good on purpose. In practice it’s six everyday habits: staying alert to bias, keeping a human in the loop, being open about when you use it, checking it includes rather than excludes, caring for people’s data and dignity, and modelling good use for others. It isn’t about being a tech expert or swearing off AI — it’s about keeping people’s dignity intact and not quietly shutting anyone out.', }, { Q: 'How do I keep a human in the loop with AI?', A: 'Treat AI as a tool, not an oracle. Use its output as a first draft, never the final word — read it with your own judgement, check it against what you know, and own the decision yourself. The habit to build is the pause between generating and sending: look before you act, especially when the output affects a real person.', }, { Q: 'Should I tell people when I’ve used AI?', A: 'As a rule, yes. Transparency is half of doing this well. You don’t need a disclaimer on every email, but where AI has shaped something that affects people — a decision, an assessment, a message that matters — being open about it protects trust. Hidden, unchecked use is exactly how AI does its quiet harm.', }, --- ### Writing inclusive job adverts https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/writing-inclusive-job-adverts An inclusive job advert removes the barriers that stop capable people from applying in the first place — coded language, inflated criteria, and inaccessible processes — so that candidates can compete on fair terms based on their ability to do the job, not on how well they fit a pre-existing mould. Why the advert is where inclusion is won or lost Most organisations talk about wanting diverse talent, but the job advert — the very first thing a candidate sees — is often still written in a way that signals: this role is for someone who looks like us . By the time a brilliant candidate has read the advert and decided not to apply, no amount of structured interviewing or blind-CV shortlisting can recover the opportunity. The uncomfortable truth is that organisations tend to recruit in their own likeness. When I speak with recruitment teams, I often ask: what are you doing for yourselves? It's easy to talk about inclusion as a value; it's harder to look in the mirror and see how the language in your own adverts is quietly filtering out the very people you say you want to attract. The problem with coded language Research consistently shows that certain words read as masculine and others as feminine — and that masculine-coded adverts attract far fewer women candidates, while barely affecting male applicant numbers. Words such as "competitive", "dominant", "ninja", "rockstar" or "driven" sit at one end of the spectrum. But coded language goes beyond obvious adjectives: "High-energy team" — can signal an exclusionary culture for disabled or chronically ill applicants. "Work hard, play hard" — often reads as alcohol-centred socialising that excludes many people. "Cultural fit" — frequently functions as a proxy for homogeneity, rewarding candidates who resemble the existing team. "Exceptional communication skills" — can deter neurodivergent applicants who communicate differently but brilliantly. None of these phrases are necessarily intended to exclude anyone. That is precisely the point: the barriers they create are invisible to the people writing the advert and painfully visible to the people reading it. Essential versus desirable: an honest audit One of the most practical things you can do is separate what the role genuinely requires from what would be nice to have — and be ruthlessly honest about which is which. Studies on application behaviour show that many women will only apply when they meet close to 100% of listed criteria, while many men apply when they meet around 60%. An overloaded "essential" list does not raise the bar — it narrows the pool, and it narrows it in predictable, demographically skewed ways. Ask of every criterion: Does the job require this on day one, or is it something we can develop? Is this about the role, or about the way we've always hired for it? Could someone meet the underlying need a different way — different qualification, different experience? Is this a genuine requirement, or a proxy for something else (for example, a degree requirement where the role does not genuinely need degree-level thinking)? Where a criterion is truly desirable rather than essential, say so clearly. Candidates who know they do not tick every box on a "nice to have" list will still apply; candidates who think they have failed an essential requirement will not. Signalling genuine inclusion — not box-ticking A diversity statement bolted to the bottom of a job advert does almost nothing on its own. Candidates — particularly those from under-represented groups — have become practised at reading the gap between what an organisation claims and what its advert actually communicates. If the body of the advert is full of coded language and an unrealistic criteria list, a one-line "we welcome applications from all backgrounds" disclaimer reads as precisely that: a disclaimer. Genuine signals look different. They include: An explicit invitation to request reasonable adjustments at application stage, not just at interview. Salary transparency — the absence of a salary range disproportionately disadvantages women and people from lower socioeconomic backgrounds, who are less likely to negotiate. Flexible working options stated up front, not as an afterthought for those brave enough to ask. Plain, jargon-free language that reflects respect for the reader's time and circumstances. A careers page and employer brand that shows real people — not a stock-photo veneer of diversity. It is also worth thinking about where you advertise, not just what you say. A brilliant advert placed only on the channels your current team uses will reach more of the same people. Broadening distribution — specialist networks, community organisations, disability-confident job boards — is part of the work. Accessible application routes The advert itself is only one layer. The application process it leads to must also be examined: Is the application form accessible to screen readers? Does the process require candidates to create an account, upload multiple documents, and complete a lengthy form — all before they know if there is any human interest in their application? Is there a named contact who can answer questions? (Candidates from under-represented groups often have questions they are reluctant to ask through a generic inbox.) Is there an option to apply via a method other than a written form — a phone call, a brief video, a portfolio — where the role genuinely suits it? Every unnecessary step in the process is a barrier. Some people have caring responsibilities that limit when and how long they can sit at a screen. Some have disabilities that make lengthy written applications disproportionately effortful. Keeping the process proportionate to what the role actually requires is not lowering standards; it is removing noise that has nothing to do with whether someone can do the job. Connecting the advert to the wider recruitment strategy An inclusive job advert does not exist in isolation. It is the opening of a conversation with a candidate — and the rest of that conversation must be consistent with what the advert promised. A warm, accessible, jargon-free advert that leads to a chaotic, inaccessible application process and an unstructured interview based on gut feel will undo everything the advert achieved. This is why I always frame inclusive recruitment as a system rather than a series of individual tweaks. The advert, the shortlisting process, the interview structure and the onboarding experience all need to reinforce the same message: we assess people on their ability to do this job, and we remove barriers so they can show us that ability. Read more in the guide to inclusive recruitment , or explore the keynote and workshop on inclusive recruitment — a speaking topic I deliver to HR teams and leadership groups across the UK. Where to start If you are reviewing a job advert today, here is a practical starting point: Run the job description through a free gender-bias decoder tool to surface masculine- and feminine-coded language. Separate every criterion into "genuinely essential on day one" or "desirable / can develop" — and be honest. Read the advert as if you are a candidate who does not already know the organisation. Does it tell you what the role involves, what is expected, what support you will receive, and how to apply? Or does it tell you mostly about what you need to bring? Check whether reasonable adjustments are mentioned, and whether the contact details provided make it easy to ask questions. Look at the wider process: where does the advert link to, and is that destination accessible and proportionate? Small changes compound. An advert that removes one piece of coded language, separates essential from desirable criteria, and adds a genuine adjustments invitation will reach more people, attract better-matched applicants, and signal to your whole market that inclusion is something you practise rather than merely claim. Listen to more on this topic in the Inclusion Bites podcast . ## Common questions { Q: `Why do job adverts put diverse candidates off applying?`, A: `Most job adverts are written by — and unconsciously for — people who already look like the current team. Gendered or coded language, an inflated list of "essential" requirements, and a culture section that reads like an in-group signal all tell certain candidates they are not the intended audience. People self-select out before they have even clicked apply.`, }, { Q: `What words should I avoid in a job advert?`, A: `Masculine-coded words such as "dominant", "aggressive", "competitive", "ninja" and "rockstar" are well-documented deterrents to women and many other candidates. Equally problematic are requirements that have nothing to do with the role — "degree required" where the job does not genuinely need one, or "must have a full clean driving licence" for a desk-based post. Every requirement that is not truly essential is a potential barrier. Remove it or move it to a clearly labelled desirable list.`, }, { Q: `How do I make an application process more accessible?`, A: `State explicitly that reasonable adjustments are available and invite candidates to request them at application stage — not just at interview. Offer more than one way to apply (written form, phone, video) where possible. Keep the process to the minimum number of stages genuinely needed to assess capability. And audit the language: plain English, short sentences, and avoiding jargon removes barriers for neurodivergent applicants, non-native speakers and anyone who simply has less time to decode corporate prose.`, }, --- ### Reducing bias in hiring https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/reducing-bias-in-hiring Bias in hiring is the tendency to favour or dismiss candidates for reasons unrelated to their ability to do the job — accent, name, gender-coded language on a CV, a panel member's gut feeling. It is rarely deliberate, but the effect is the same: talented people are screened out, and organisations hire people who look and sound like the people already there. Structured processes, honest self-awareness and — used carefully — technology can all help. Why bias is built into most hiring processes The CV was only invented as a standard document in the 1980s, when fax machines made it practical. Before that, we filled in application forms. Neither format was designed with bias in mind — and both carry it. Research into shortlisting consistently shows that identical credentials attract different scores depending on the name at the top of the page, the language used to describe achievements, or whether a photograph is included. The interview is no better in its traditional form. As I often say, the typical hiring process is "two people lying to each other about the demo mode of the game, rather than actual game footage" — the candidate performs their best self, the hiring manager describes an idealised role. Neither side learns much about whether the person will actually thrive in the work. And panels introduce their own dynamics. Without structure, the loudest or most senior voice shapes the outcome. Affinity bias pulls people towards candidates who remind them of themselves. Halo and horn effects mean a strong or weak answer early in an interview colours everything that follows. None of this is fringe. The CIPD’s 2024 research found only 31% of employers ensure a diverse interview panel and just 27% strip biographical details from the initial sift — so the biases above run unchecked in most processes. And the effects are felt: more than a third (36%) of people aged 50–69 say they feel at a disadvantage applying for jobs because of their age. Bias is not a rare malfunction in hiring; without structure, it is the default setting. (Full figures, dated and sourced, on my facts & figures page.) Structured shortlisting: what it means in practice The single most effective change most organisations can make is to define their criteria before opening applications — not after. Once you have seen a strong candidate, your brain subtly rewrites what the role requires to fit them. Criteria set in advance resist that drift. Name-blind and photo-blind screening. Remove names, photos and addresses at the shortlisting stage. This is straightforward to implement and reduces the impact of name-based bias and affinity. Score against the criteria, not the person. Each shortlister scores independently before discussing. Comparing scores first — rather than impressions — surfaces disagreement and forces it to be reasoned through. Check what the criteria are actually measuring. Ask yourself whether each requirement genuinely predicts success in this role, or whether it is a proxy for something else. Demanding a degree for a role that does not need one, or penalising informal English in written applications, can be a form of indirect discrimination dressed up as a standard. Watch the language in job adverts. Gender-coded vocabulary — words like "aggressive targets" or "nurturing environment" — nudges certain groups away before they even apply. Structured interviews: removing the luck of the draw The same logic applies in the room. Forward-looking organisations are investing in training their interviewers and working to avoid groupthink or dominance within an interview panel — where each person rates and scores responses against objective criteria independently, before any discussion. Only then do scores get consolidated and compared. Same questions, same order, for every candidate. This is the foundation of a fair interview. It means you are comparing like with like. Behavioural and skills-based questions over hypotheticals. "Tell me about a time you..." gives you evidence of actual behaviour. "What would you do if..." mostly tests composure under questioning. Practical tasks and work samples. Ask candidates to solve a real problem, write something, review something, or demonstrate a skill. A day's work-trial or a structured task tells you far more than an hour of conversation — and is considerably harder to fake. Diverse panels. A panel that shares the same background, seniority and experience will share many of the same blind spots. Bringing in different perspectives — and agreeing in advance that each panellist will name bias when they see it — makes for better decisions. Score before you discuss. Have each panellist record their score independently immediately after the interview. Collective deliberation before individual scoring allows one strong voice to anchor the whole panel. One pattern to be especially alert to: we tend to go for the candidate with the extrovert personality, or the person who reminds us of whoever we liked in a similar role before, or someone who fits the existing team dynamic. None of those instincts tells you much about whether someone will do the job well. The question to keep returning to is: what does this role actually need? AI in hiring: promise, risk and the human in the loop Artificial intelligence is now present across the hiring pipeline — in applicant tracking systems that filter CVs, in tools that score video interviews, in chatbots that screen candidates before a human is involved. The promise is efficiency and consistency. The risk is that AI trained on biased historical data will reproduce and entrench that bias at scale, faster than any human panel could. The most cited example is the kind of screening tool that learns from past hiring decisions. If your organisation historically hired more men into technical roles, the algorithm learns that the features associated with male applicants predict success — because that is what the data shows. The bias is not in the code. It is in the data. Keep a human in the loop. No AI tool should make an employment decision without human review. This is not just good practice — in many jurisdictions there are legal requirements around automated decision-making in employment, and organisations need to understand what applies to them. Audit your algorithms. If you are using AI screening, ask your vendor what the tool was trained on, how bias is tested for, and what the outcomes look like across different demographic groups. Demand that transparency — it is reasonable. Ensure diverse training data and diverse oversight. The people configuring, auditing and acting on AI hiring tools matter. Homogeneous teams asking homogeneous questions of their data will miss the same things they always missed. Do not over-index on AI-generated signals. A tool that scores candidate video for "confidence" or "communication style" is encoding a cultural and neurotype preference. Enthusiasm, directness, eye contact — these are not universal markers of competence. The AI CV question: should candidates be penalised? Candidates are increasingly using AI tools to polish their CVs, prepare for interviews and structure their application answers. Some hiring managers are uneasy about this. My view is straightforward: we did not criticise people for using calculators, autocorrect or predictive text. We should not penalise candidates for using AI either. Candidates have always sought help — from careers advisers, professional CV writers, mentors and friends who happen to be good writers. AI is a new form of that support, and one that is far more accessible than expensive one-to-one coaching. Penalising its use would simply disadvantage people who cannot afford human alternatives. More importantly, the future skill you want in your organisation is someone who can think critically and use AI to augment — not replace — their judgement. A candidate who uses AI sensibly to present their experience clearly is demonstrating exactly the capability you need. The interview and the work-sample stage exist precisely to test the thinking behind the application. What is worth thinking about is whether your shortlisting criteria are picking up on polish rather than substance. If the most AI-assisted CVs are always scoring highest, that might be a signal that your criteria need revisiting — not that candidates need restricting. The deeper pattern: recruiting in your own likeness Most hiring bias is not about active prejudice. It is about comfort. We gravitate towards people who remind us of ourselves, who use the language we use, who went to places we recognise, who present confidence in the way we were taught to present it. This is what social scientists call homophily — recruiting in your own likeness — and it is one of the most powerful forces keeping organisations homogeneous. The antidote is not to become suspicious of everyone who feels like a "good fit." It is to make fit mean something precise: fit for the role's requirements, fit for the team's gaps, fit for the organisation's future — not fit in the sense of "feels familiar." See also the companion guide Inclusive Recruitment and the speaking topic Inclusive Recruitment for the broader strategic picture, or explore more on the Inclusion Bites podcast . ## Common questions { Q: `How does bias creep into shortlisting?`, A: `Bias enters shortlisting through the language on CVs (words coded as masculine or feminine), name and photo recognition, unstructured criteria, and gut-feel ranking. The antidote is defining your essential criteria before you see a single application, scoring anonymously against those criteria, and checking that the bar you've set reflects the actual job — not a mental image of the person who held it last.`, }, { Q: `Can AI remove bias from recruitment?`, A: `AI tools can help — for example by screening for relevant skills without flagging names or photos — but they can also embed and amplify bias if the data they were trained on reflects past discriminatory patterns. Always keep a human in the loop, audit your algorithms regularly, and ensure the data used to train or configure screening tools is diverse and up to date. There are also legal considerations around automated employment decisions that organisations need to understand before deploying AI in hiring.`, }, { Q: `Should we penalise candidates who use AI to write their CV or prepare for interview?`, A: `No. Candidates have always sought help — from careers advisers, professional CV writers, and mentors. AI is simply a new form of that support. As Joanne puts it, we didn't criticise people for using calculators, autocorrect or predictive text. What matters is whether the person can do the job. The future skill you're hiring for is a critical thinker who uses AI to augment their judgement, not replace it — so a candidate who uses AI well is already demonstrating exactly that capability.`, }, --- ### Running inclusive meetings https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/running-inclusive-meetings An inclusive meeting is one where every participant can contribute meaningfully — not just those who are most senior, most confident or most comfortable speaking first. It requires deliberate design: a clear purpose, structured space for different voices, and a chair who actively manages the dynamics rather than letting whoever shouts loudest set the direction. Why meetings are where inclusion is won or lost You can have the best inclusion policy in the world, but if your meetings routinely amplify the same three voices and sideline everyone else, that's the culture people actually experience. Meetings are one of the most visible expressions of how power and voice are distributed in a team. As I've put it on the Inclusion Bites podcast : "You can be included but not feel belonging." Being invited to the meeting is not the same as being able to genuinely contribute to it. There's also a psychological safety dimension that most leaders underestimate. When someone raised a concern in a previous meeting and the response was defensive, dismissive, or resulted in them being labelled "not a team player" — that memory trains the whole room to self-censor. People stop speaking up not because they don't care, but because speaking up has become more dangerous than staying quiet. Meetings end, flawed plans move forward, and the disengagement sets in silently. Before the meeting: set the conditions Inclusive meetings are mostly won or lost before anyone joins the call or walks into the room. Getting the conditions right in advance removes a huge amount of cognitive load and lets people actually think, rather than spend the first twenty minutes working out what they're supposed to be doing. Share a clear agenda and purpose. People need to know why they're there, what decision needs to be made, and how their input will shape the outcome. When that's missing, participants spend their energy scanning the room reading emotional temperatures instead of focusing on the work — and they leave exhausted having accomplished nothing. Send pre-reads in time to actually read them. This is especially important for introverts, neurodivergent colleagues, and anyone for whom English is a second language — groups who often need processing time that in-the-moment verbal discussion doesn't allow. Only invite people whose input genuinely matters. Every unnecessary attendee signals that you haven't thought about what the meeting is actually for. Offer alternative contribution routes. A shared document, a pre-meeting survey, or a chat thread lets people contribute on their own terms, not just those who think fastest out loud. During the meeting: managing voice and power The most important thing an inclusive chair does is actively manage who gets heard — especially when hierarchy or personality is pulling the room in one direction. Ask for input before stating your view. Once a senior voice has landed, others anchor to it rather than think independently. Invite contributions first, then share your perspective. This one habit shifts the power dynamic in the room more than almost anything else. Explicitly invite quieter voices. "We haven't heard from everyone yet — [name], what's your read on this?" isn't putting someone on the spot; it's signalling that their contribution is wanted. Credit ideas back to the person who raised them. "Going back to what [name] said earlier…" prevents the common pattern where a quieter person's idea gets picked up and amplified by a louder voice — and the credit quietly transfers. Intervene when someone is interrupted. "Let's let [name] finish" is a simple signal that all voices are protected in this space. Use structured techniques for high-stakes discussions. Silent brainstorming, writing ideas before discussion, or going round the table in order all reduce the dominance of fast, loud, extroverted contributions. Hybrid and remote inclusion Hybrid meetings carry a structural disadvantage for remote participants that doesn't fix itself. If you're in the room, you can read body language, catch the moment the conversation opens, and be noticed. On a call, you can't. Inclusive hybrid meeting design requires actively compensating for that gap. Acknowledge the disadvantage and design for it. Treat remote participants as your primary audience, not an add-on. Check in with remote participants explicitly. Don't wait for people to jump in on mute — go to them directly. Avoid side conversations in the room. Anything said away from the microphone excludes everyone on the call. Use captions and provide transcripts. This helps participants with hearing differences, those in noisy environments, and anyone who needs processing time to keep up with fast verbal exchanges. Use chat and shared documents as parallel contribution channels. Contribution shouldn't depend solely on being quick on the unmute button. The psychological safety piece None of the structural techniques above will sustain themselves without psychological safety — the belief that speaking up won't cost you. As I've observed from conversations with belonging researchers: when the last time somebody raised a concern, a leader got defensive or a manager got defensive, or someone was labelled not a team player — it trains people to stay quiet. That pattern doesn't announce itself; it just quietly produces meetings full of nodding and silence, followed by disengagement outside the room. Building psychological safety in meetings means responding to challenge with curiosity rather than defensiveness. It means closing the loop — "Last week you raised X; here's what we've done since." It means making it visibly safe to be wrong, to not know, and to disagree. These behaviours are at the core of inclusive leadership more broadly — the meeting is just where they're most visibly tested. Connecting meetings to the bigger picture Running inclusive meetings isn't a standalone skill — it's one expression of inclusive leadership in action. The habits that make a meeting inclusive — asking before telling, creating space for different voices, crediting contribution, responding to challenge with curiosity — are the same habits that make a team, a culture and an organisation inclusive. The meeting is just where it's easiest to see whether those habits are present or not. Explore the keynote Inclusive Leadership & Engagement to see how these behaviours connect to the full arc of inclusive leadership development. ## Common questions { Q: `How do I stop one or two people dominating the meeting?`, A: `Ask for input before you state your own view — once a senior voice has landed, others anchor to it rather than think independently. Use structured techniques: go round the table, invite written contributions before the meeting, or use a "no interrupting" norm. Your job as chair is to actively create space for quieter voices, not just leave the door open and hope they walk through it.`, }, { Q: `What does psychological safety have to do with meetings?`, A: `Everything. If the last time someone raised a concern in a meeting the leader got defensive, labelled them "not a team player" or simply ignored the point, people learn to stay quiet — not because they don't care, but because speaking up becomes more dangerous than silence. Meetings end, flawed plans move forward, and the team silently disengages. Psychological safety is the prerequisite for honest, high-quality meeting contributions.`, }, { Q: `How do I make hybrid and remote meetings more inclusive?`, A: `Start by acknowledging that remote participants are at a structural disadvantage and design for them, not as an afterthought. Share agendas and pre-reads in advance so people can prepare in their own time. Use chat and collaborative documents so contribution doesn't depend on being quick on the unmute button. Check in with remote participants explicitly, and avoid side conversations that exclude people on the call. Captions and transcripts help participants with hearing differences or who are joining from noisy environments.`, }, --- ### Courageous conversations https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/courageous-conversations-at-work A courageous conversation is a deliberate, honest exchange about something uncomfortable — a harmful remark, a pattern of exclusion, an impact someone didn't intend but caused anyway. It takes courage because the stakes feel high and the outcome is uncertain. Done well, it's one of the most powerful tools any leader or colleague has for building a genuinely inclusive culture. Why "courageous" and not just "difficult"? The word "difficult" puts the problem in the conversation itself. "Courageous" puts it where it belongs — in the person who chooses to raise it. Most of the exclusion that happens at work isn't deliberate. It accumulates in the silences: the remark nobody challenged, the feedback nobody gave, the pattern nobody named. Courage is the decision to break that silence — not because it's easy, but because staying quiet is costlier in the long run. As I put it when speaking to the Security Awareness Special Interest Group: "It's not always easy. We know it's not easy. Having courageous conversations, calling out discrimination, calling out challenging conversations when someone's making remarks — sometimes you have to have the courage to stand up for what you believe." The alternative is a culture where people quietly disengage rather than raise what matters. Calling in versus calling out Both approaches have their place, and the choice matters. Calling out is public and immediate — naming the behaviour in front of others as it happens. It signals to everyone in the room that the culture does not tolerate this. It can feel harsh, which is sometimes exactly what is needed. Calling in is private and relational — taking the conversation aside, asking questions, inviting reflection. It prioritises learning and preserving the relationship over making a point. It assumes that most people, given a genuine opportunity to understand, will want to do better. Neither replaces the other. Calling in is usually the better first move; calling out may be necessary when a pattern has persisted despite private challenge, or when others in the room need to see the behaviour named. The question to ask yourself is: what outcome do I actually want from this conversation? Intent versus impact One of the most common reasons courageous conversations stall is the intent defence: "I didn't mean it that way." Intent matters — it affects how you approach the conversation — but it doesn't change the impact. Someone can have entirely good intentions and still cause real harm. The most useful frame is to treat intent and impact as separate, real things that both deserve attention. Start with impact: what happened, and what effect did it have? That's factual and observable. Then, with curiosity rather than accusation, explore the intent: what was the person trying to do? From there, you can agree a different path forward. Focusing on impact rather than character keeps the conversation productive rather than defensive. Staying curious: the E + R = O principle A framework I return to often is E + R = O : Encounter + Response = Outcome. When two people disagree or when harm has occurred, we tend to focus on the Outcome — the conflict, the hurt, the impasse. But the Outcome is shaped by the Response, and the Response is shaped by perspective. Before reacting, pause and ask: why do I see this the way I do? Why might the other person see it differently? Their background, their experience, their identity — all of these shape how they've interpreted the same encounter. That's not an excuse for harm; it is, however, the most direct route to understanding and repair. Curiosity about perspective is what turns a stand-off into a conversation. This connects to what forecaster Paul Saffo called strong opinions, weakly held — a phrase I find genuinely useful. Have your view. Hold it clearly. But hold it loosely enough that new information can actually change it. That's not weakness; that's how learning happens. Repair over blame The goal of a courageous conversation is not to win, or to establish who was wrong. It is to repair — to leave the relationship and the culture in a better state than you found them. That means: Naming what happened clearly, without catastrophising it. Sharing the impact honestly, without weaponising it. Staying present for the other person's response, even if it's defensive at first. Agreeing what changes — specifically — and following through. Psychological safety is what makes this possible. If people know that raising something won't result in marginalisation or ridicule, they'll raise things earlier and more honestly. Creating that safety is a leadership responsibility — not a one-off gesture, but a pattern of behaviour over time. How this connects to Smile · Engage · Educate My approach to inclusion — Smile · Engage · Educate — applies directly here. How you approach a courageous conversation matters as much as what you say. A conversation that starts with warmth and genuine curiosity will land very differently from one that starts with a verdict. Smile: bring openness, not accusation. Engage: listen before you conclude. Educate: share your perspective and invite theirs, so both of you leave knowing something you didn't before. This is also why I describe the best of these conversations as "calling in" — you are inviting someone into a better understanding, not ejecting them from the community for a mistake. As I often say: you can call something out or call it in. The choice reflects what you believe about people's capacity to change. Practical starting points for leaders Name what you saw, not what you decided. "When you said X, the effect on the team was Y" is far more useful than "you're being exclusive." Choose your moment. Immediately after an incident, emotions are high. A short pause — an hour, not a week — often produces a better conversation. Ask before you tell. "I wanted to check in about what happened in that meeting — how do you think it went?" opens a door that a verdict slams shut. Be honest about your own discomfort. "This is a bit awkward to raise, and I'm raising it because I care about the team" is disarming rather than threatening. Agree what changes. The conversation isn't finished when it ends — it's finished when something is different. Make the agreement specific and check back in. Take it further Courageous conversations sit at the heart of Inclusive Leadership & Engagement — the keynote that helps leaders move from good intentions to genuine inclusion. They're also explored throughout the Inclusion Bites podcast , where guests and I work through the real complexity of making workplaces better. For the broader picture of what inclusive leadership looks and feels like, read the companion guide What Is Inclusive Leadership? ## Common questions { Q: `What is a courageous conversation at work?`, A: `A courageous conversation is one where the stakes feel high enough that most people would rather avoid it — calling out a harmful remark, addressing a pattern of exclusion, or giving honest feedback about impact. "Courageous" doesn't mean aggressive or confrontational; it means having the willingness to raise something uncomfortable with enough care and candour that the relationship can survive it, and ideally improve.`, }, { Q: `What's the difference between calling in and calling out?`, A: `Calling out is public and immediate — it names the behaviour in front of others, often as it happens. Calling in is a private, relational approach: you take the conversation aside and invite the person to reflect, asking questions rather than issuing verdicts. Neither is always right. Calling in tends to be more effective when you want genuine learning and a preserved relationship. Calling out may be necessary when a pattern has continued despite private challenge, or when others in the room need to see the behaviour named.`, }, { Q: `How do I separate intent from impact in a difficult conversation?`, A: `Start by acknowledging that the two are real and separate: someone can have perfectly good intentions and still cause harm. Focusing on impact — "here is what happened and here is the effect it had" — keeps the conversation factual rather than accusatory. You do not need to decide whether the person is a bad person; you just need to address what occurred and agree on a different path forward. Staying curious about their perspective, and sharing yours clearly, is how you hold both at once.`, }, --- ### E+R=O: the “+” is perspective https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/event-response-outcome E+R=O is a well-known formula — Encounter + Reaction = Outcome . You encounter a person, a thing or a situation; you react; and that leads to an outcome. But the part you actually control sits in the “+”: it is your perspective . How you perceive an encounter dictates how you react — and therefore the outcome. The formula — and the part you control As I describe it in my sessions: “E is encounter — you encounter somebody, or a thing, or a situation. You have to make a decision, and from that encounter we react. We lean in, we move out of the way, we make a hiring decision, a firing decision — whatever it may be. And that leads to an outcome. But in this equation, the plus symbol is our perspective. How I perceive that encounter will dictate how I'm going to react, and therefore the outcome.” That's the whole point. The event isn't usually yours to choose. The outcome follows from what you do. The leverage — the bit you own — is the perspective you bring to the moment in between. We're wired to believe we're right One of our core biases is believing we're right. That's confirmation bias: we go looking for the information that backs up what we already think, and we quietly discount the rest. E+R=O only works if we start from a more honest place — accepting that we are not always right, and that our perspective is exactly that: a perspective, not the truth. Stop arguing the outcome — get curious about the “why” Where it usually goes wrong is that we spend all our energy on the outcome. We end up butting heads — “I think this, and you think that.” The shift is to step back and ask why : why do I think this? Why does it matter to me? And why does the other person hold a different view? Their background, their faith, their ethnicity, their gender identity, their sexuality, even something as ordinary as their hearing — all of it shapes the perspective they bring. So don't just focus on the outcome. Think about the why, and why it matters. Understand where someone's belief system has come from, and the conversation changes completely. Hold your views with an open hand This sits right alongside an idea I return to often — the forecaster Paul Saffo's phrase, “strong opinions, weakly held” . Have your belief, but relax the grip. Be prepared to challenge, and to be challenged. That's how you overcome confirmation bias, listen to a different perspective, and let a better outcome emerge. Why this matters for inclusion and leadership E+R=O is, at heart, an emotional intelligence tool. It's what lets us stay aware, knowledgeable and confident enough to lean in to a difficult conversation rather than away from it. For inclusive leaders , the perspective you choose in a charged moment is culture-defining — it's the difference between a team that feels heard and one that learns to stay quiet. It's also the everyday engine of #PositivePeopleExperiences : change the perspective, change the interaction, one encounter at a time. Take it further Pair this with strong opinions, weakly held and emotional intelligence & inclusive leadership , or browse all guides . Hear these ideas in conversation on the Inclusion Bites podcast . ## Common questions { Q: 'What does E+R=O mean?', A: `E+R=O is a well-known formula — Encounter + Reaction = Outcome (often written as Event + Response = Outcome and popularised by Jack Canfield). You encounter a person, thing or situation, you react, and that leads to an outcome. The way I teach it, the part you actually control is the "+": it's your perspective. How you perceive an encounter dictates how you react — and therefore the outcome.`, }, { Q: 'Why is perspective the most important part of E+R=O?', A: `Because we're wired to believe we're right — confirmation bias means we look for information that backs up what we already think. If you change nothing but your perspective on an encounter, you change your reaction, and you change the outcome. That's where your agency lives: not in the event, and not in fighting over the outcome, but in the perspective you bring to it.`, }, { Q: 'How does E+R=O help with difficult conversations and inclusion?', A: `When people disagree, they usually butt heads over the outcome — "I think this, you think that." E+R=O says step back and get curious about the why: why do I think this, and why does someone else hold a different view? Their background, faith, ethnicity, gender identity, sexuality or lived experience all shape perspective. Understanding the why — rather than defending the outcome — is what makes inclusive, leaning-in conversations possible.`, }, --- ### Agreeing to understand https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/agreeing-to-understand Agreeing to understand means staying in a conversation long enough to grasp why someone believes what they believe — not just what they believe. It's the opposite of “agreeing to disagree”, which usually means we've stopped listening. You don't have to end up agreeing. You do have to end up understanding. “Agree to disagree” is where conversations go to die We reach for “let's agree to disagree” when a conversation gets uncomfortable. It sounds gracious, but most of the time it's a polite exit — we park the difference, walk away no closer, and quietly file the other person under “wrong”. Nothing has been understood. Nothing has changed. We've just agreed to stop trying. Understand the why, not just the what What we tend to spend a lot of time doing is focusing on the outcome — “I think this, and you think that.” We butt heads over conclusions. The shift is to step back and ask why : why do I think this, why does it matter to me, and why does the other person hold a different view? Don't just focus on the outcome — think about the why, and why it matters. Understand what their belief system is and where it's come from. Because beliefs come from somewhere. Someone's background, their faith, their ethnicity, their gender identity, their sexuality, their lived experience — all of it shapes the perspective they bring to a conversation. Once you understand the where-from, the conversation changes completely. Understanding isn't the same as agreeing This is the part people miss. Agreeing to understand doesn't mean abandoning your own view, and it doesn't mean every view is equally valid. You can understand someone completely and still hold a different position. But understanding lowers the temperature, builds trust and keeps the relationship intact — which is precisely what lets you disagree well , and keep talking. How to do it in practice Lead with a question, not a counter-argument. “What makes you see it that way?” opens a door; “well, actually…” closes one. Listen for the why, not the gap. You're not gathering ammunition — you're trying to find where the belief came from. Separate the person from the position. You can challenge an idea while still respecting the human holding it. Hold your own view with an open hand. Strong opinions, weakly held — be ready to be changed. Why this matters for inclusion and leadership Inclusion lives or dies in these moments. When we only trade conclusions, difference becomes a threat; when we get curious about the why, difference becomes information. It's an emotional intelligence practice, and it's the human engine behind E+R=O — change your perspective on the encounter and you change the outcome. For leaders, modelling “agree to understand” is how you build a culture where people feel safe to bring a different view at all. Take it further Pair this with E+R=O — and why the “+” is perspective and strong opinions, weakly held , or browse all guides . Hear these ideas in conversation on the Inclusion Bites podcast . ## Common questions { Q: 'What does “agree to understand, not agree to disagree” mean?', A: `"Agree to disagree" usually means we've stopped listening — we've parked the difference and walked away no closer. "Agree to understand" is the opposite: we stay in the conversation long enough to grasp why the other person sees it the way they do. You don't have to end up agreeing. You do have to end up understanding.`, }, { Q: 'How do you understand why someone believes something?', A: `Get curious about the why rather than arguing the what. Ask what sits behind their view — their background, faith, ethnicity, gender identity, lived experience, even something as ordinary as the room they grew up in. People's beliefs come from somewhere. When you understand where a belief has come from, you can have a far more productive conversation than when you only trade conclusions.`, }, { Q: `Isn't understanding the same as agreeing?`, A: `No — and that's the point. You can understand someone completely and still hold a different view. Understanding lowers the temperature, builds trust and keeps the relationship intact, which is exactly what makes it possible to disagree well. Agreement is optional; understanding is what moves things forward.`, }, --- ### What is conscious inclusion? https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/conscious-inclusion Conscious inclusion is the active, deliberate practice of thinking about what each person needs — "my needs as an individual, your needs, the candidate's needs, the customer's needs" — and making sure that your policies and processes are designed so that everybody fits, or at least most people fit. It is not a one-off initiative; it is a mindset you choose, every day. The problem with defaults Most workplaces were not designed to exclude anyone — they were just designed with a particular person in mind. When that person is the assumed default, everyone who does not match that template ends up having to work around the system rather than being served by it. I often use a small, everyday example: imagine you are a decaf coffee drinker. The urn is full of regular coffee, there is no decaf option, and nobody thought to ask. It is a tiny thing — but it signals, quietly, that your needs were not considered. Scale that logic up to job application forms, performance review processes, or meeting formats, and you start to see how unconscious exclusion accumulates. From unconscious bias to a conscious choice Unconscious bias training raised awareness that our brains take shortcuts. That was a necessary first step. But awareness alone does not change behaviour — it just means you feel guilty about the shortcuts rather than acting on them differently. Conscious inclusion is the next move. It asks not just "what bias might I have?" but "what am I actively doing to counteract it?" The shift is from passive recognition to deliberate action. And the stakes are real: as I put it when speaking at SASIG, "if we're not consciously inclusive, by definition, we could be unconsciously excluding." What conscious inclusion looks like in practice It is less about grand policy overhauls and more about the questions you ask — and the ones you remember to ask — before making decisions: Designing for the edges. Who does this process assume? Who might it trip up? Audit your defaults and redesign with the broadest possible range of people in mind. Thinking about individual needs. Not every colleague, candidate or customer has the same requirements. Ask, rather than assume. Reviewing policies with fresh eyes. Parental leave, flexible working, recruitment forms, onboarding — each one is either opening a door or quietly narrowing it. Pausing before you proceed. Before launching a new process, take a moment: whose needs have I not yet considered? Making inclusion visible. Name it. When you adjust something to make it more accessible, say so — it signals to others that inclusion is intentional here, not accidental. Conscious inclusion and belonging Diversity tells you who is in the room. Inclusion tells you whether they can genuinely participate. But belonging — the feeling that you are truly welcome, not just tolerated — only comes when inclusion is consistent and conscious. When people have to mask, adapt or advocate for themselves constantly just to do their jobs, the cognitive load is exhausting. Conscious inclusion reduces that load. It says: we have thought about you. You do not have to fight for a place at the table. If you want to explore this distinction further, the guide on going beyond the DEI acronym picks up exactly this thread. Smile · Engage · Educate My framework for building a culture of conscious inclusion follows three principles: Smile · Engage · Educate . How you say something matters as much as what you say. Inclusion is built in the texture of everyday interactions — a warm tone in an email, a genuine question in a one-to-one, a process adjusted without being asked twice. These moments are what I call #PositivePeopleExperiences : small, repeated acts of conscious inclusion that compound into a culture where people can truly thrive. You can hear me explore these ideas in depth on the Inclusion Bites podcast , or read more across the guides library . Take it further If you are ready to move your organisation from good intentions to deliberate, consistent action, I would love to talk. Whether that is a keynote, a workshop or an ongoing consultancy, the starting point is always the same: a conversation. Get in touch and let us find out where conscious inclusion can make the most difference for your people. ## Common questions { Q: `What is conscious inclusion?`, A: `Conscious inclusion is the active, deliberate practice of thinking about what each individual needs — colleague, candidate or customer — and designing your policies, processes and everyday interactions so that as many people as possible can fully participate. It is the antidote to the unexamined defaults that quietly leave people out.`, }, { Q: `What is the difference between unconscious bias and conscious inclusion?`, A: `Unconscious bias training asks people to notice the shortcuts their brain takes. Conscious inclusion goes further — it asks what you are actively doing about it. Awareness is the starting point; conscious inclusion is the ongoing practice that follows. If you are not consciously including, you may, by default, be unconsciously excluding.`, }, { Q: `How do I put conscious inclusion into practice at work?`, A: `Start by auditing the defaults your organisation has built in: who do your standard processes assume? Then redesign them with the broadest possible range of people in mind. In day-to-day interactions, pause before decisions to ask whose needs you have not yet considered. Small, consistent acts — checking in, adjusting, asking — compound into a genuinely inclusive culture over time.`, }, --- ### Privilege without defensiveness https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/privilege-without-defensiveness Privilege without defensiveness means being able to hear that some people face systemic disadvantage — without feeling personally accused, and without turning it into a competition over who has had it hardest. It is the precondition for honest inclusion conversations where nobody has to leave their experience at the door. When inclusion conversations become a no-win situation In my experience working with organisations on diversity and inclusion , the moment the word "privilege" enters the room, something shifts. Some people feel marginalised communities are being given favours. Others — people who may come from what looks like a more advantaged background — push back: "I've had a tough gig as well. I haven't had it easy. What about me?" Both reactions are understandable. Both contain real feeling. And both, left unaddressed, make the conversation collapse into defensiveness rather than progress. Privilege is not an accusation Privilege is not a verdict on your character or a claim that your life has been easy. It is a description of which doors were not closed to you in the way they were closed to others. You can have faced genuine hardship — financial struggle, family difficulty, health crises — and still have benefited from certain doors being open because of your gender, your race, your class, your ability, or the way you present to the world. Those two things are not in competition. Acknowledging one does not erase the other. The problem arises when we hear "you have privilege" as "your struggles don't count." They do count. That is precisely the point: everyone's experience counts, and that is why we need everyone in these conversations. Why we need all the voices — including the uncomfortable ones Some people need to speak up because they have felt discriminated against, felt victimisation, faced a lack of opportunity. We need to hear those voices. That is non-negotiable. But inclusion, as I see it, is about leaving nobody behind — and you cannot be inclusive by ignoring or devaluing the contribution of other people. If the person who asks "what about me?" is simply shut down or made to feel like a villain, they disengage from inclusion work altogether. And then we have lost them. We need everybody in these conversations — not just the people who already agree. Avoiding the "oppression olympics" One of the quickest ways to derail an inclusion conversation is to let it become a ranking exercise: whose experience was worse, whose group has suffered more, who deserves more airtime. This is sometimes called the "oppression olympics" — and nobody wins it. It narrows the conversation to a competition when the work is fundamentally about building something fairer for everyone. Name the pattern, not the person. Systemic disadvantage is structural and measurable. Pointing to it is not the same as accusing an individual of causing it. Hold multiple truths. "Some groups face barriers that others don't" and "your experience and contribution matter" are both true at the same time. Focus on the system, not the scoreboard. The question is not "who had it hardest?" but "what needs to change so the same doors stop closing on the same people?" Make space without making enemies. Creating more room for underrepresented voices does not require silencing or blaming others. Privilege, equity and the difference it makes This is where equity rather than equality becomes useful. Equality means giving everyone the same thing. Equity means giving people what they actually need to reach the same starting line — because not everyone starts from the same place. When people understand equity, "What about me?" changes shape. It becomes less a protest and more a genuine question: "Where do I fit in this?" The answer is: right here, in the conversation, as a person who can help build something better — not as someone on trial for advantages they may not even have been aware of. Practical ways to have this conversation Start with curiosity, not compliance. Ask people what they find difficult about inclusion conversations before presenting them with a framework. People engage with problems they helped define. Acknowledge the discomfort out loud. Saying "this can feel like a no-win conversation — let's talk about why" disarms defensiveness before it builds. Separate intent from impact. "I didn't mean to exclude anyone" may well be true, and it still matters that someone was excluded. Both things can be true. Invite people in, not over. The goal is not to make privileged people feel guilty — it's to make them feel like a valued part of the solution. Listen to the discomfort. When someone says "what about me?", there is often a real fear underneath — of being overlooked, dismissed, or blamed. Hear that before responding to the words. Take it further These ideas come up regularly on the Inclusion Bites podcast — real conversations about the uncomfortable edges of inclusion work. Read more on equity vs equality or explore the full guides library . If you want to bring this conversation into your organisation, get in touch . ## Common questions { Q: `What does "privilege" actually mean in inclusion conversations?`, A: `Privilege simply means that certain aspects of your identity — background, race, gender, class, ability — have not been an obstacle in the way they have been for others. It doesn't mean your life has been easy, or that you haven't worked hard, or that you haven't faced real difficulties. It means some specific doors were not closed to you in the way they were closed to others. Acknowledging that isn't an attack; it's a starting point for fairer conversations.`, }, { Q: `Why do inclusion conversations make some people feel left out or accused?`, A: `Because the framing can slip into blame rather than understanding. When people hear "you have privilege," they often hear "your struggles don't count" — and that feels unjust, because their struggles are real. The conversation becomes a no-win situation: those with marginalised identities feel unheard, and those from more privileged backgrounds feel attacked. The way through is to hold both truths at once: some people face systemic disadvantage that needs naming, and everyone's contribution and experience matters in the room.`, }, { Q: `How do you talk about privilege without turning it into a competition over who has had it hardest?`, A: `You name what needs to be named — systemic disadvantage is real and measurable — while making clear that inclusion is not about ranking suffering. Joanne's phrase for this is "leave nobody behind." The goal isn't to decide whose struggle was worse; it's to make sure the systems and cultures we build don't keep locking the same people out. When you frame it as "how do we fix the system?" rather than "who is to blame?", people stop being on trial and start being part of the solution.`, }, --- ### Leaning in, not leaning away https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/leaning-in-not-leaning-away Leaning in means choosing to stay present and curious when a conversation feels uncomfortable, rather than withdrawing to avoid risk. It is the recognition that avoidance is not neutral — silence and stand-offishness carry their own message, and that message is often felt as exclusion by the very people we are trying to include. The OMG moment One of the biggest barriers to inclusion is the fear of getting it wrong. I have seen it in boardrooms, in workshops, in hallway conversations. Someone thinks: What if I say the wrong thing? What if I use the wrong word? What if I cause offence? And then, almost without realising it, they pull back. They stop asking questions. They avoid the person entirely. They stay quiet in meetings rather than risk embarrassment. I call it the OMG moment — that flash of anxiety where the fear of getting it wrong freezes you in place. It is entirely human. But if we do not learn to move through it, it becomes its own problem. Why avoidance reads as exclusion Here is the thing about body language: we cannot hide it. When we are nervous, when we are concerned about getting something wrong, we become standoffish. We avoid eye contact. We keep conversations short. We do not invite people in. And the person on the receiving end does not know that we are nervous — they experience the effect, not the cause. They feel avoided. They feel like they do not belong. So the fear of causing harm ends up causing a different kind of harm. The withdrawal that was meant to protect actually excludes. This is why leaning away is never truly safe, even when it feels like the cautious option. This connects directly to what I explore in the guide on agreeing to understand — the idea that genuine dialogue requires us to stay in the room, even when it is uncomfortable. The antidote: lean in with curiosity and humility The challenge is to overcome this fear — and to use emotional intelligence and cultural intelligence to do it. That does not mean pretending to know things you do not know. It means showing up with an open question rather than a closed silence. Ask rather than assume. A simple "I want to make sure I get this right — is there anything I should know?" signals respect, not ignorance. Name your uncertainty. Saying "I am still learning about this" is not a weakness. It is an invitation for the other person to help you understand, and most people welcome that. Stay in the conversation. When something feels awkward, resist the urge to change the subject or exit. Staying present — even imperfectly — matters more than polished confidence. Listen to understand, not to respond. Give people the space to tell you who they are, rather than projecting what you expect them to be. Getting it wrong and repairing — better than never trying You will get things wrong. That is not failure; it is the cost of genuine engagement. What matters is what happens next. A brief, honest acknowledgement — "I got that wrong, thank you for telling me" — followed by a genuine effort to do better is worth more than a lifetime of careful avoidance. People are far more forgiving of a sincere mistake than of someone who never tried. Avoidance communicates indifference. A repaired mistake communicates that the relationship matters enough to get it right. This is especially important in allyship. If you want to understand what it means to be a genuine ally — for example, how to be a trans ally at work — leaning in is where it starts. Not with perfect knowledge, but with the willingness to show up and try. This is active allyship in practice Active allyship is not a grand gesture. It is a series of small choices to stay present, to ask, to listen, and to repair. Every time you choose to lean in rather than lean away, you are doing the work. You are signalling to the people around you that they are worth the discomfort. That is what inclusion looks and feels like from the inside. Lean in when a colleague mentions something about their identity that you do not fully understand — ask a genuine question. Lean in when a meeting goes somewhere unfamiliar — stay with it rather than steering back to safe ground. Lean in when you have made a mistake — acknowledge it and keep going. Lean in when the silence feels easier — because the silence is never truly neutral. Take it further Read the guide on emotional intelligence and inclusion for the skills that support this kind of engaged presence, or get in touch to talk about bringing these ideas into your organisation through a keynote or workshop. ## Common questions { Q: `Why does the fear of getting it wrong make things worse?`, A: `When we are anxious about saying the wrong thing, our body language closes off — we become standoffish, we avoid eye contact, we pull back from conversation. Other people read that withdrawal as coldness or disinterest, which itself feels like exclusion. The very fear of causing harm ends up causing a different kind of harm: the person we are trying not to offend feels unseen and avoided.`, }, { Q: `What does "leaning in" actually mean in practice?`, A: `It means choosing curiosity over avoidance. It means asking a question rather than staying silent, saying "I am not sure I have this right — please correct me" rather than saying nothing at all, and staying present in a conversation even when you feel uncomfortable. It does not mean performing enthusiasm or pretending to know more than you do. It means showing up with humility and genuine interest in the other person.`, }, { Q: `What should I do if I do say the wrong thing?`, A: `Acknowledge it, apologise briefly, and move on — do not over-explain or make the moment about your own discomfort. A simple "I got that wrong — thank you for telling me" goes a long way. The repair matters more than the mistake. People are far more forgiving of a genuine slip followed by honest acknowledgement than of someone who never tried at all.`, }, --- ### The Johari Window & the Overton Window https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/johari-and-overton-windows Inclusion happens on two levels at once. There’s the personal level — what I can see about my own behaviour, my blind spots, the parts of myself I choose to reveal or keep hidden. And there’s the societal level — what the people around me currently treat as normal, sayable and acceptable. Two well-known models give us a language for each. The Johari Window looks inward . The Overton Window looks outward . Hold both, and you start to understand why inclusion work is never just about policy or just about awareness — it’s about both moving together. The Johari Window: looking inward The Johari Window is a simple model of self-awareness with four quadrants, drawn along two lines: what you know about yourself, and what others know about you. Open (the Arena). Things known to you and to others — your visible behaviours, the parts of yourself you share freely. Blind spot. Things others can see but you can’t — the habit, the tone, the impact you’re unaware of. Hidden (the Façade). Things you know about yourself but keep from others — needs, experiences, parts of your identity you don’t feel safe to share. Unknown. Things neither you nor others have yet seen — untapped potential, buried responses, things only the right situation reveals. The goal is to grow the Open area , because that’s where trust lives. It grows two ways. Feedback from others shrinks your blind spot — you learn something about your impact you couldn’t see alone. Disclosure shrinks your hidden area — you choose to share something, and the façade comes down a little. Why the Johari Window matters in EDI This is where it gets practical. Unconscious bias and microaggressions live almost entirely in the blind spot . By definition, you can’t see your own unconscious bias — that’s what makes it unconscious. The only way it moves into the Open area is through feedback: someone trusted enough, and kind enough, to tell you how something landed. That’s a huge part of what allyship actually is — the gift of trustworthy feedback, offered as a courageous conversation rather than a public callout. Calling people in — kindly, specifically, privately — is how we help each other see our blind spots without raising the defences. The hidden area matters just as much. People only disclose — their identity, their needs, their lived experience, the adjustment that would help — when they feel safe enough to. That safety isn’t a nice-to-have; it’s the precondition for disclosure. Where there is no psychological safety , the façade stays up, the Open area stays small, and you never get the information you need to include people well. The bigger the shared Open area between us, the more trust, the more belonging, and the better the work. You can’t see your own blind spot. That’s the whole point of the word. Inclusion is partly about building the kind of relationships where someone will hand you the mirror — and you’ll thank them for it. Want to explore your own Open area? Two of the self-checks on this site go straight at it: the Emotional Intelligence self-check looks at self-awareness and how you take feedback, and the Psychological Safety & Belonging self-check looks at whether the people around you feel safe enough to disclose. The Overton Window: looking outward The Overton Window describes something different — not the individual, but the group. It’s the range of ideas currently considered acceptable in public conversation at any given moment. Picture a spectrum running from unthinkable , through radical , acceptable , sensible , popular , all the way to policy . At any point in time, a “window” sits over part of that spectrum — and ideas inside the window are the ones people feel they can say out loud without raising eyebrows. The crucial thing about the window is that it shifts . What sits comfortably inside it today may have been unthinkable a generation ago — and the reverse is true too: things once treated as perfectly normal can drift to the edge of acceptability and out. The model is neutral about which ideas are right. It simply describes how acceptability moves. Why the Overton Window matters in EDI Inclusion norms are always on the move, and the Overton Window gives us a way to see it happening. Plenty of language and behaviour once considered normal is now widely seen as unacceptable; some things once unsayable are now ordinary. When someone says “it’s just banter” or “you can’t say anything any more” , they’re often standing right at the edge of a shifting window, feeling it move under their feet. Both phrases are the window being contested — and backlash, when it comes, is the window being pulled back the other way. For anyone leading change, this is liberating. The window of what’s “normal” in an organisation isn’t fixed — it’s shifted, deliberately, by leaders who model new behaviour, by advocates who keep raising an issue, and above all by lived-experience stories that make the abstract human. You can move the window. But there’s a craft to it: you move people most effectively when you meet them at the edge of the current window rather than leaping past it. Push an idea that sits in the “unthinkable” zone for your audience and you’ll lose the room; offer the next reasonable step and you bring people with you. That’s the same instinct behind agreeing to understand — start where people are, not where you wish they were. You don’t shift a culture by shouting from the far end of the spectrum. You shift it by standing just inside the window and gently opening it a little wider, conversation by conversation. How the two windows connect Here’s why it helps to hold them together. The Johari Window is about personal awareness — me widening my Open area through feedback and disclosure. The Overton Window is about societal acceptability — the group shifting what it treats as normal. They’re not the same thing, and real change needs both. You can have a roomful of self-aware individuals and still have an organisation whose collective window hasn’t moved. And you can have a fashionable, window-shifted culture full of the right words, where no individual has actually examined their own blind spot. Genuine inclusion is where the two meet: people widening what they can see about themselves, and the shared window shifting toward inclusion — each one making the other easier. As more people do their personal work, the collective window moves; as the window moves, it becomes safer for the next person to disclose and to hear feedback. That’s conscious inclusion working at both levels at once. Practical takeaways for leaders Build feedback that shrinks blind spots. Make it normal, specific and kind to tell each other how something landed — and model receiving it well yourself. Make disclosure safe. People share their needs and experiences only when the façade can come down without cost. Protect that safety relentlessly. Call in, not out. The blind spot moves into the open through a trusted, private nudge — not a public takedown that raises the drawbridge. Meet people at the edge of the window. Offer the next reasonable step rather than the destination. You move a culture by widening the window, not by leaping past it. Use stories to shift what’s normal. Lived experience does more to move the window than any policy memo — it makes the abstract human. Work both levels. Invest in individual self-awareness and in the collective norms. Neither alone is enough. Inclusion isn’t one conversation or one campaign. It’s a slow, deliberate widening — of what each of us can see about ourselves, and of what all of us are willing to accept. Two windows, opening together. Explore related thinking in allyship: hold the rope and the Inclusive Culture & Belonging topic, or hear these ideas explored on the Inclusion Bites podcast . ## Common questions { Q: 'What is the Johari Window and why does it matter for inclusion?', A: 'The Johari Window is a model of self-awareness with four quadrants: Open (known to you and others), Blind spot (others see it, you don’t), Hidden (you know it, others don’t) and Unknown. It matters in inclusion because unconscious bias and microaggressions live in the blind spot — you can’t see them without feedback — while psychological safety lets people disclose identity, needs and experiences, shrinking the hidden area. The bigger the shared Open area, the more trust and belonging.', }, { Q: 'What is the Overton Window and how does it relate to EDI?', A: 'The Overton Window describes the range of ideas currently acceptable in public discourse — running from unthinkable through radical, acceptable, sensible and popular to policy. It shifts over time. In EDI it matters because inclusion norms move: things once unsayable, or once seen as normal, change. Leaders, advocates and lived-experience stories shift what counts as normal in an organisation, and understanding the window helps you move a conversation without losing the room.', }, { Q: 'How do the Johari Window and the Overton Window connect?', A: 'One looks inward, one looks outward. Johari is about personal awareness — widening what you can see about yourself through feedback and disclosure. Overton is about collective acceptability — what a group or society currently treats as normal. Real inclusion needs both: individuals widening their Open area, and the shared window shifting toward inclusion. Personal change and cultural change reinforce each other.', }, --- ### Razors & rhetorical traps https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/razors-and-rhetorical-traps Some of the hardest moments in inclusion work aren’t about facts at all — they’re about thinking . Someone says something that lands badly, and you have a split second to decide what it means. Someone makes a sweeping claim, and you have to choose whether to push back or let it pass. The conversation slides sideways, and you can feel it going nowhere. This is where a handful of old “razors” — rules of thumb that cut away weak reasoning — earn their keep, alongside a sharp eye for one common rhetorical trap. None of this is a logic lecture. It’s about staying humane and honest when a conversation gets difficult. Hanlon’s Razor: assume good faith first Start with the one that does the most work in this field. Hanlon’s Razor says: never attribute to malice what is adequately explained by thoughtlessness or lack of awareness. When a colleague mangles someone’s name, makes an assumption about who does what job, or repeats a phrase that’s quietly dated, the overwhelmingly likely explanation isn’t cruelty — it’s habit, hurry or simply not knowing. This is the reasoning behind calling people in, not out . Most exclusion and most microaggressions aren’t weapons; they’re blind spots. Treat them as malice and you raise the drawbridge; treat them as unawareness and you open a door. I work from a simple belief: people are inherently good. Most harm in this space isn’t deliberate — it’s unaware. That doesn’t make it hurt less, but it does change how you respond to it. Here is the caveat that matters most, and it’s easy to get wrong. Hanlon explains intent — it never excuses impact. “I didn’t mean it” is the start of the conversation, not the end of it. Good faith tells you how to respond — kindly, curiously, without contempt — but it doesn’t erase the harm that landed. That’s the whole point of Encounter + Reaction = Outcome : the impact on the person is real regardless of what was intended, and a good leader holds both at once — warm about the intent, clear about the impact. Occam’s Razor: the simplest explanation that fits Occam’s Razor says: prefer the simplest explanation that fits all the evidence. It’s a brilliant antidote to conspiratorial thinking — to the assumption that a slight was coordinated, that a clumsy decision was a plot, that one bad meeting reveals a grand hidden agenda. Usually the simpler story — someone was rushed, under-informed, or working from an old habit — fits the facts perfectly well. But there’s an EDI caveat worth naming, because Occam’s Razor can be misused. “Simplest” means simplest explanation that fits all the evidence — not the most comfortable one. It’s tempting to wave away systemic or structural explanations as “too complicated” and reach for an individual one instead. Sometimes, though, the pattern is the explanation: when the same group keeps hitting the same barrier, “lots of unrelated coincidences” is actually the more convoluted story. Occam cuts toward whatever genuinely fits the whole picture — structural causes included. The Principle of Charity: argue with the best version The Principle of Charity — sometimes called steelmanning — asks you to interpret what someone says in its strongest, most reasonable form before you respond. Instead of pouncing on the weakest reading of a clumsy sentence, you ask, “what’s the most sensible thing they might mean?” and engage with that . It’s the engine behind agreeing to understand : you can’t genuinely understand someone’s position if you’re busy defeating a caricature of it. Charity isn’t weakness or agreement — it’s the discipline that makes good-faith disagreement possible, and it’s disarming, because people argue far more openly with someone who has clearly understood them first. Hitchens’s Razor & the Sagan Standard: test the claims Two more razors help with sweeping assertions. Hitchens’s Razor says: what is asserted without evidence can be dismissed without evidence. The Sagan Standard adds: extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence. Both are handy when a conversation fills up with confident, unevidenced sweeps — “diversity doesn’t make any difference”, or “it’s all gone too far” — that are stated as fact but rest on nothing in particular. You don’t need to refute a claim that arrived with no support; you can simply, gently, ask what it’s based on. The harder discipline is turning these razors on your own claims. Inclusion work has its share of over-confident statistics and tidy assertions, and the credible thing — the thing that earns trust in a sceptical room — is to hold our own evidence to the same standard we’d ask of anyone else. If a number can’t survive a fair question, don’t lean your case on it. The motte-and-bailey: which claim are we actually debating? Now the trap. A motte-and-bailey takes its name from a medieval castle: a desirable but hard-to-defend courtyard (the bailey ) beside a small, fortified mound you can retreat to (the motte ). As an argument, it works like this: someone advances a bold, contestable claim — the bailey — and enjoys the ground it wins. When challenged, they retreat to a much safer, almost unarguable claim — the motte — and say, “that’s all I really meant.” Once the challenge passes, they quietly walk back out to the bailey again. It shows up on every side of these debates, and naming it fairly means seeing it everywhere, not just where it suits you: One direction. A specific, harmful remark is defended with “it’s just free speech.” The bailey was the particular thing said; the motte is the unarguable principle that speech matters. Few would attack the principle — but the principle isn’t actually what was in dispute. The other direction. A sweeping, over-claimed inclusion statistic is challenged, and the response retreats to “well, we just mean we value difference.” The bailey was the strong causal claim; the motte is the gentle sentiment nobody objects to — but it isn’t the claim that was questioned. Spotting a motte-and-bailey isn’t about catching people out. It’s about keeping the conversation honest, so a real disagreement doesn’t dissolve into a fog. The move is simply to ask, kindly, “which claim are we actually debating — the strong one or the safe one?” That single question often does more to unstick a stalled conversation than any amount of force. Using these as a leader Put together, these tools describe a posture more than a procedure. As a leader you lead with charity and Hanlon — assume good faith, give people the strongest reading, treat the slip as unawareness rather than malice. You still hold impact — good faith shapes the tone, but it never cancels the harm, and the conversation continues until the impact is acknowledged. You test the claims , using Hitchens and Sagan on sweeping assertions, and — crucially — on your own. And when a conversation starts sliding between a bold claim and a safe one, you name the motte-and-bailey gently , not to win, but to keep everyone honest about what’s being argued. That’s curiosity over correction in practice. These razors only work because they rest on a deeper assumption — that people are, on the whole, inherently good, doing their best with what they know. The tools sharpen the thinking; the warmth keeps it human. Explore the companion guide on the Johari and Overton Windows , or related thinking in courageous conversations , conscious inclusion and getting it wrong gracefully . ## Common questions { Q: 'What is Hanlon’s Razor and how does it apply to inclusion?', A: 'Hanlon’s Razor says: never attribute to malice what is adequately explained by thoughtlessness or lack of awareness. It’s the reasoning behind assuming good faith and “calling in, not out” — most exclusion and microaggressions aren’t malicious, they’re unaware or habitual. The crucial caveat is that Hanlon explains intent, it never excuses impact. “I didn’t mean it” is the start of the conversation, not the end.', }, { Q: 'What is a motte-and-bailey argument?', A: 'A motte-and-bailey is a rhetorical move where someone advances a bold, contestable claim (the “bailey”); when challenged, they retreat to a much safer, unobjectionable one (the “motte”); then once the heat dies down, they quietly re-advance the bold claim. Spotting it keeps a conversation honest — the question to ask gently is, “which claim are we actually debating?” It happens on every side of EDI debates, so the skill is naming it without scoring points.', }, { Q: 'How do thinking tools like razors help in EDI conversations?', A: 'Razors are rules of thumb that cut away weak reasoning so you can see the real issue. Hanlon’s and the Principle of Charity help you lead with good faith; Occam’s helps you resist conspiratorial thinking without dismissing genuine structural patterns; Hitchens’s Razor and the Sagan Standard discipline sweeping claims — including your own statistics. Together they keep hard conversations calm, curious and honest rather than defensive.', }, --- ### Ethos, logos, pathos https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/ethos-logos-pathos Ethos, logos and pathos are the three pillars of classical rhetoric — credibility, logic and emotion. Applied to inclusion, they describe the three reasons organisations pursue it: because they have to ( ethos ), because it pays ( logos ), or because they genuinely care about people ( pathos ). Joanne Lockwood's central argument is that leading with pathos — the human, emotional motivation — is the only foundation that makes the other two sustainable. The three reasons organisations pursue inclusion When you ask a leadership team why inclusion matters to them, you tend to get one of three kinds of answer. Understanding which type you're hearing — and which type is actually driving behaviour — tells you more about the health of your inclusion culture than any survey or audit. Ethos — "we have to." Equality legislation, reporting requirements, public-sector duties, contractual obligations. Compliance is the floor, not the ceiling, but many organisations never move beyond it. When inclusion is driven by ethos alone, it lives in the policy folder and rarely reaches the lived experience of the people it's meant to help. Logos — "it makes business sense." Diverse teams outperform. The talent pool widens. Retention improves. Innovation follows. These arguments are real and worth making — but they treat people as instruments of organisational performance rather than as ends in themselves. When the numbers shift, logos-only inclusion gets defunded. Pathos — "it's the right thing for people." This is the motivator Joanne calls the one that goes underneath. As she puts it: what we hide beneath, we should focus on. is pathos, which is the emotional response, and that's about the human factor. I wanna be treated fairly. I wanna be treated with dignity. When pathos is the foundation, inclusion doesn't depend on the regulatory calendar or the next board presentation. Why starting with pathos changes the outcome Joanne is clear about the sequence that works: I'm a great believer in if we start with the emotional, with the human factor, the pathos, then the business case will follow and then we'll be compliant. This is not idealism — it is a practical observation about what sustains behaviour change over time. An organisation that starts from "we care about people being treated fairly and with dignity" will naturally build practices that also satisfy the regulator and produce the performance outcomes. One that starts from the regulator or the spreadsheet may tick the boxes without ever changing how it feels to work there — and that gap is exactly where talented people quietly disengage and leave. Diversity and inclusion work is full of organisations who have done everything right on paper and still have a culture problem. The missing ingredient is almost always pathos — a leadership team that has internalised the human argument, not just the compliance one. Ethos: compliance as floor, not ceiling There is nothing wrong with compliance as a starting point. Equality legislation exists for good reason, and meeting its requirements is non-negotiable. The problem is when compliance becomes the destination rather than the minimum standard. When inclusion is framed as a legal obligation, people experience it as a burden — something to manage rather than something to mean. Policies get written, training gets delivered, boxes get ticked, and the culture stays exactly as it was. If your inclusion work is driven primarily by ethos, the question to ask is: what would we do differently if there were no legal requirement? If the honest answer is "nothing", that's worth sitting with. Logos: the business case is real but fragile The evidence base for inclusive leadership and diverse organisations is substantial, and Joanne doesn't dismiss it. The business case is a legitimate and often necessary part of the conversation — particularly when making the case to a board or a finance director who needs to see return on investment. But logos-driven inclusion has a structural vulnerability: it is always one difficult quarter, one new CEO or one restructure away from being deprioritised. If the only reason you are doing this is because it improves performance metrics, then it will be traded off against other performance levers the moment pressure mounts. People can sense when they are valued instrumentally, and it erodes trust in ways that are slow to build back. Pathos: the human factor as foundation Pathos, in Joanne's framing, is about recognising the simple human need at the centre of all inclusion work: to be treated fairly, to be treated with dignity. It is not sentiment — it is the most durable motivator available, because it doesn't depend on external conditions. When a leader genuinely holds this value, they behave inclusively whether or not the auditors are watching, whether or not the organisation is hitting its targets, and whether or not there's a dedicated D&I budget this year. This is why Joanne's approach to speaking and facilitation always starts with the human story rather than the data. Hear more of these ideas explored on the Inclusion Bites podcast , where lived experience is always the starting point. Putting it into practice Shifting from a compliance-first or ROI-first approach to a pathos-first one doesn't mean abandoning the business case or ignoring the law. It means changing the question you lead with. Instead of "what do we have to do?" or "what will this cost us?", the question becomes "what kind of workplace do we actually want to be, and what does it feel like for the people already here?" Run listening exercises with people across your organisation — not to gather data, but to genuinely understand experience. Ask your leadership team to articulate why inclusion matters to them personally, not just organisationally. Review whether your inclusion activity is designed around people's experience or around audit trails. Notice whether inclusion conversations happen only when something goes wrong or is reported. Consider what would change if you led every inclusion initiative with a human story rather than a statistic. Take it further Read more in the guides library , explore what inclusive leadership looks like in practice , or browse topics including diversity and inclusion . If you'd like to bring this conversation into your organisation, get in touch . ## Common questions { Q: `What are ethos, logos and pathos in the context of inclusion?`, A: `In Joanne Lockwood's framework, ethos maps to compliance — doing it because the rules or regulators require it; logos maps to the business case — spreadsheets, ROI and productivity data; and pathos maps to the human, emotional motivation — genuine care about people being treated fairly and with dignity. Most organisations default to ethos or logos, but pathos is the foundation that makes the other two sustainable.`, }, { Q: `Why isn't the business case for diversity enough on its own?`, A: `The business case — logos — is a legitimate and useful argument, but it treats people as means to an end. When the numbers shift or a new leadership team arrives with different priorities, a purely ROI-driven inclusion programme can be quietly wound down. Starting from pathos — from a genuine belief that every person deserves to be treated fairly and with dignity — creates a commitment that doesn't depend on the next quarterly review.`, }, { Q: `How do you move from compliance-driven inclusion to something more meaningful?`, A: `Start by asking why, not what. Instead of opening with policy requirements or diversity dashboards, ask what kind of workplace you actually want to be and what it feels like for the people already there. Joanne's approach is to put the human experience first — the emotional, lived reality — and let the business case and compliance requirements follow naturally from that foundation. Practical steps include listening exercises, lived-experience conversations, and reviewing whether your inclusion activity is designed around people or around audit trails.`, }, --- ### FREDA — a daily inclusion checklist https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/freda-principles FREDA stands for Fairness, Respect, Equality (or Equity), Dignity and Autonomy (or Agency) . It's a five-point mental checklist — a subroutine you run in real time whenever you make a decision, have a conversation, or design a process. The goal is to close the gap between inclusion as a stated value and inclusion as lived experience. Where FREDA comes from Abstract principles are easy to agree with and hard to act on. Most leaders already believe in fairness and dignity — the trouble is that beliefs don't automatically translate into behaviour under pressure, when you're busy, when your instincts are running the show. FREDA gives those beliefs a handle. Each letter is a prompt, and each prompt is a question you can ask yourself in seconds. As I put it: "FREDA is a great mantra to hold in your head." It's deliberately short enough to recall mid-meeting, mid-conversation, mid-draft. Not a policy document — a subroutine. The five principles unpacked Fairness. Am I applying the same standards, the same opportunities, the same benefit of the doubt to everyone involved? Fairness is the baseline — it means checking whether your process or decision would look consistent if you swapped the person in front of you for someone different. Respect. Am I genuinely valuing this person's time, their effort, their perspective? Respect shows up in the small things: whether you listen rather than wait to speak, whether you acknowledge contributions, whether you treat people as capable adults with something worth hearing. Equality / Equity. Am I giving people what they need to participate fully, not just what I give everyone by default? Equality means the same treatment; equity means the right treatment. Both matter — the question is which one this situation calls for. Dignity. Am I treating this person in a way that honours their inherent worth — regardless of whether I agree with them, like them, or find the conversation easy? Dignity is non-negotiable. It doesn't depend on performance or status. Autonomy / Agency. Am I leaving this person with genuine choice and control over what happens to them? Inclusion without agency isn't inclusion — it's management with better branding. People need to be actors in their own story, not subjects of someone else's good intentions. How to run FREDA in practice Think of it as a quick scan, not a lengthy audit. When I describe it, I put it simply: "When I'm dealing with people, interacting, whatever it may be, I always think — am I being fair? Am I being respectful? Am I really valuing that person's time, their efforts? Am I giving them equity?" In practice, that scan takes five to ten seconds. Here's where it pays off: Before a meeting: Have I set it up so everyone can contribute, or only the people who are already comfortable speaking up? When giving feedback: Am I being as honest and constructive with this person as I would be with someone I'm closer to? When allocating work or opportunity: Am I spreading stretch assignments fairly, or cycling back to the same familiar names? When designing a process: Have I checked whether it works for people with different access needs, communication styles or life circumstances? When something feels uncomfortable: Is my discomfort about this person's difference, or about a genuine problem I need to address? FREDA and inclusive leadership FREDA sits inside a broader approach to the inclusive leader's journey . It won't replace structural work on diversity and inclusion — organisations still need fair recruitment, equitable pay, accessible environments and accountability mechanisms. But structure without daily habit is a policy with no one running it. FREDA is what fills that gap: the cognitive habit that means a leader's values show up in their behaviour even on a difficult Tuesday afternoon. It also works in both directions. Running FREDA on your own behaviour builds self-awareness. Sharing the framework with your team builds a common language — so that "is this fair?" and "are we respecting everyone's autonomy here?" become questions the group asks each other, not just questions a leader asks in private. Take it further Browse more practical tools and thinking in the guides library , hear FREDA explored in conversation on the Inclusion Bites podcast , or read about the behaviours of inclusive leaders to see how this framework fits into the bigger picture. If you'd like to bring FREDA into your organisation as part of a keynote or workshop, get in touch . ## Common questions { Q: `What does FREDA stand for?`, A: `FREDA stands for Fairness, Respect, Equality (or Equity), Dignity, and Autonomy (or Agency). It's a memorable five-point checklist that Joanne Lockwood uses to help leaders assess any decision, conversation or process through an inclusion lens — in real time, not just at policy review time.`, }, { Q: `How do I actually use FREDA day to day?`, A: `Run it as a quick mental scan whenever you're about to make a decision, give feedback, design a process or hold a meeting. Ask yourself: Am I being fair? Am I being respectful? Am I giving people genuine equity? Am I protecting their dignity? Am I preserving their autonomy? If you hesitate on any of those five, that's your signal to pause and reconsider.`, }, { Q: `Is FREDA a formal accreditation or a proprietary framework?`, A: `FREDA is a practical thinking tool — a mnemonic that Joanne uses in her keynotes and workshops to make inclusion principles stick. It's not a certification or a compliance checklist; it's a habit of mind that leaders can build into their everyday working style.`, }, --- ### Hygiene before motivation https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/herzberg-hygiene-before-motivation Hygiene before motivation is the principle, grounded in Herzberg's two-factor theory, that organisations must secure the basic conditions of work — psychological safety, dignity, freedom from discrimination — before any investment in motivation will take hold. Performance is the product of motivation, ability and environment. If the environment is zero, the whole product is zero. The equation organisations keep getting wrong There is a deceptively simple way to think about performance: it is the result of motivation multiplied by ability multiplied by environment. Most organisations invest heavily in the first two — engagement surveys, leadership programmes, skills training, well-being perks — and almost nothing in the third. The problem is mathematics. Multiply anything by zero and you get zero. As I put it when speaking to audiences on this: "We can motivate as much as we like. If the environment is zero, this sum will always be zero. So we've got to get those basics right before we start thinking about motivation." Yet the reflex in most organisations is the opposite: reach for a new programme first, ask whether the environment is safe second — if at all. What Herzberg actually said Frederick Herzberg's two-factor theory distinguished between hygiene factors and motivators . Hygiene factors — pay, working conditions, job security, relationships with managers, policies — don't actively inspire people, but their absence actively demotivates them. Motivators — recognition, growth, meaningful work, responsibility — are what genuinely move performance upward, but only once the hygiene factors are solidly in place. The insight that still gets ignored is the asymmetry: fixing a hygiene problem removes a source of unhappiness, but it doesn't by itself create motivation. And failing to fix it means motivation can never properly take root, no matter how cleverly designed your engagement initiative is. Psychological safety and dignity are hygiene factors In the context of diversity and inclusion , the hygiene factors that matter most are psychological safety and basic dignity — the conditions that allow people to bring themselves to work without having to spend energy managing fear, masking, or navigating discrimination. When these are absent, the cost is invisible on paper but felt by everyone: People spend cognitive bandwidth managing threat rather than doing their best work. Good ideas go unspoken because speaking up feels unsafe. Talented people disengage quietly, then leave. Marginalised colleagues bear a disproportionate share of the invisible cost. The point isn't subtle. As I frame it when this comes up in workshops and keynotes: "If we haven't got the basics right where people feel safe — they want to thrive, they don't feel discrimination — no matter how much we're motivating, people are always gonna feel unsafe." Why organisations skip the basics There are a few honest reasons organisations jump past the environment and straight to motivation: Programmes are visible; environments are not. A new well-being benefit appears on a slide. A culture where people feel unsafe to disagree with their manager is invisible until someone leaves or raises a grievance. Hygiene problems are uncomfortable to name. Admitting that people feel psychologically unsafe, or that discrimination is happening, requires acknowledging that something is wrong. Launching a motivation initiative requires only optimism. The return is harder to measure. Reducing fear is difficult to put on a dashboard. Engagement survey scores are easy, even when they tell you little. None of these reasons make skipping the basics a good strategy — they just explain why it happens so often. What fixing the environment actually looks like Getting the environment right before layering on motivation isn't a grand project — it is a series of honest, often uncomfortable assessments: Do people feel safe to disagree, raise concerns or make mistakes without fear of reprisal? Are policies applied consistently, or do some people get latitude that others don't? Is discrimination — in any of its overt or subtle forms — named and addressed, or managed quietly? Do marginalised colleagues experience the same basic dignity as everyone else, day to day? When people tell you something is wrong, is the first response curiosity or defensiveness? These are the questions that belong at the top of any inclusive leader's agenda — before the engagement survey, before the well-being programme, before anything else. The right order of investment None of this means motivation doesn't matter — it does, enormously. Once the environment is sound, investing in recognition, growth, purpose and belonging pays real dividends. The argument here is about sequence, not either/or. Fix the environment first. Then motivate. In that order, the investment compounds. In the reverse order, it evaporates. Explore how this connects to building cultures of belonging across the full guides library , or hear the ideas discussed in depth on the Inclusion Bites podcast . If you want to work through what this means for your organisation specifically, get in touch . ## Common questions { Q: `What is the difference between hygiene factors and motivators at work?`, A: `Hygiene factors — things like fair pay, psychological safety, basic dignity and freedom from discrimination — don't actively motivate people, but their absence actively demotivates them. Motivators, such as recognition, growth and purpose, only work once the hygiene factors are in place. Skip the basics and no amount of motivating will move the needle.`, }, { Q: `Why doesn't motivation training work if the environment isn't right?`, A: `Think of performance as motivation multiplied by ability multiplied by environment. If the environment — the conditions people work in every day — is effectively zero, the whole product is zero. You can invest in motivation programmes and skills training, but if people don't feel safe or respected, those investments are wasted. The environment has to come first.`, }, { Q: `What does "fixing the environment" look like in practice?`, A: `It means ensuring people are free from harassment and discrimination, that they feel psychologically safe to speak up without fear, that policies are applied consistently and fairly, and that basic dignity is the baseline — not a bonus. It also means listening to those who tell you something is wrong, rather than reaching for a new programme before the fundamentals are solid.`, }, --- ### The castle and the drawbridge https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/the-castle-and-the-drawbridge The castle-and-drawbridge metaphor describes a pattern that derails inclusion work: when marginalised people challenge privilege head-on, those with power tend to feel threatened and retreat — raising the drawbridge so no conversation can reach them. The practitioner's task is to change that dynamic: lower the drawbridge, put a table on it, and create a space where people choose to engage rather than fortify. Why the drawbridge goes up Most people who hold privilege — whether that is social, professional or positional — do not experience themselves as privileged. They experience themselves as people who worked hard, made reasonable choices and ended up where they are. When someone tells them that their position comes at the expense of others, or that their behaviour causes harm they cannot see, it does not land as useful information. It lands as an accusation. And when we feel accused, we defend. The drawbridge goes up. The conversation stops before it starts. Nothing changes — and sometimes things get worse, because the person inside the castle now feels justified in keeping the gates shut. This is not a moral failing on their part. It is how the human threat response works. The challenge for anyone doing inclusion and diversity work is not to ignore that response — it is to design around it. Lowering the drawbridge The metaphor shifts the practitioner's frame entirely. Instead of asking "how do I get people to accept that they are wrong?", the question becomes "how do I create conditions where people feel safe enough to be curious?" In Joanne's words: "What we need to do somehow is create an environment where it's not threatening, where we can lower that drawbridge down. We can put a table on the drawbridge. We can all come around and sit on that table and have conversations in a nonthreatening way." The table on the drawbridge is the key image. Not inside the castle — that would require the person with power to fully surrender their ground before the conversation begins. Not outside the castle — that leaves the marginalised person entirely without shelter. The drawbridge itself: a shared, temporary, neutral-enough space where both parties can sit down without either side having conceded defeat. What this looks like in practice Lowering the drawbridge is not about softening the message until it says nothing. It is about sequencing and framing conversations so that the person you need to reach stays present long enough for something to land. A few practical approaches: Start from shared goals, not competing identities. Most people in organisations want their teams to work well and for colleagues to feel valued. Begin there, not with a taxonomy of privilege. Ask before you tell. Questions — genuine ones, not rhetorical ones — keep the other person in the conversation rather than pushing them out of it. "What has your experience of this been?" opens a door that "here's why you're wrong" closes. Name the discomfort without weaponising it. Saying "I know this can feel uncomfortable, and that's normal — I feel it too" reduces the threat signal and models the kind of honest, non-defensive engagement you are hoping to create. Give people a path forward. Defensiveness often spikes when people cannot see how to change — when admission of a problem feels like admission of permanent failure. Show what "better" looks like; make it achievable. Be patient with the pace. Behaviour change rarely happens in a single conversation. A nonthreatening first conversation makes the next one possible. The limits of confrontation None of this means that challenge has no place. Direct challenge is sometimes necessary — particularly when harm is immediate, repeated or being ignored. The castle-and-drawbridge model is not a call to be endlessly gentle with people who are actively causing harm. It is a call to be strategic about when confrontation will produce change and when it will simply produce a locked gate. The most effective inclusive leaders learn to read the room: knowing when a direct challenge is the right tool and when the table on the drawbridge will get further. Both are skills. Neither replaces the other. Psychological safety is the drawbridge mechanism The concept connects directly to psychological safety — the idea that people do their best thinking, their most honest communicating and their most creative work when they do not fear punishment for speaking up. Building psychological safety in a team is, in a sense, the long-form version of lowering the drawbridge: creating the ongoing conditions where difficult conversations can happen because they have become normal rather than exceptional. Explore this further in the guide on psychological safety , or hear the ideas unpacked in depth on the Inclusion Bites podcast . Joanne's approach The castle-and-drawbridge metaphor runs through Joanne's keynote and workshop work because it gives practitioners — and leaders — a concrete, non-blaming image to hold onto. The goal is never to shame the person in the castle. The goal is to make it worth their while to come to the table. That is the spirit behind Smile · Engage · Educate : create the conditions first, then do the work. Browse all guides , or get in touch to talk about how this thinking can shape your next inclusion programme. ## Common questions { Q: `What does the castle and drawbridge metaphor mean in inclusion work?`, A: `It describes what happens when marginalised people challenge privilege directly: those with power feel threatened and retreat, raising the drawbridge so no conversation can get in. The metaphor reframes the practitioner's task — instead of battering the gates, lower the drawbridge, put a table on it, and create a space where people can talk without feeling under attack.`, }, { Q: `Why does confrontation so often backfire in diversity and inclusion conversations?`, A: `When someone feels their identity, status or worldview is under attack, the brain's threat response kicks in. Defensiveness, dismissal and disengagement follow — none of which produce learning or change. Inclusion conversations work best when they feel like an invitation rather than an accusation, which is why psychological safety and tone matter as much as the substance of what is said.`, }, { Q: `How can I raise difficult inclusion topics without putting people on the defensive?`, A: `Start from curiosity rather than verdict. Frame the conversation around shared goals — everyone wanting a team where people can do their best work — rather than around who is wrong. Acknowledge that these topics can feel uncomfortable and that discomfort is normal. Ask questions before making statements. And give people time: behaviour change rarely happens in a single conversation, but a nonthreatening first conversation makes the next one possible.`, }, --- ### Tolerated, accepted, embraced https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/tolerated-accepted-embraced The inclusion spectrum maps three distinct experiences of difference: being tolerated (present but not welcome, enduring daily attrition), being accepted (valued for your output but not your whole self), and being embraced (celebrated for all of who you are, including your lived experience). Most organisations believe they are at acceptance. Many are still closer to tolerance than they know. Why tolerance is not a step forward The intuitive assumption is that the spectrum runs from exclusion, up through tolerance and acceptance, to embrace — and that any movement along it is progress. But there is a counter-intuitive truth here that I have lived personally and heard echoed by hundreds of people I have spoken with: being tolerated can be worse than not being included at all. When you are excluded, the situation is legible. Painful, unjust, but legible. You know where you stand. When you are tolerated, you are let in — and then subjected to a steady drip of signals that your presence is conditional, your difference is a problem to be managed, and your comfort matters less than everyone else's. As I have said directly: "I would rather you told me that I was not welcome than include me reluctantly and then I end up suffering a death by 1,000 cuts, the microaggressions day in, day out." That is not a dramatic framing. It is a precise one. Tolerance combines presence with chronic attrition. It places the burden on the person who carries difference to absorb constant low-level harm — and then smile, perform, and deliver — while the organisation congratulates itself on having an open door. What tolerance actually looks like Tolerance rarely announces itself. It hides in ordinary moments that, taken alone, seem trivial — but accumulate into something corrosive: The comment that was almost a compliment but carried a sting underneath. Being asked to represent your entire community, as though you are a spokesperson rather than an individual. Having your idea repeated by someone else five minutes later and receiving the credit you were not given. Being invited to the meeting but not to the conversation that happens afterwards. The exhaustion of having to explain yourself, again, to people who could have done the work themselves. Each of these is a cut. None is fatal. Together, they are what I mean when I say: "If you're putting up with me, I'm living in a world where I'm suffering death by a thousand cuts every day." The accumulation is the harm. Acceptance: real, but incomplete Acceptance is a genuine improvement. At acceptance, your work is valued, your professionalism is respected, and you are not fighting every day for the right to be present. That matters enormously, and should not be understated. But acceptance has a ceiling. It values what you do, not who you are. It welcomes your output while keeping your identity at arm's length — the parts of you that are different, inconvenient, or unfamiliar. You are accepted on the condition that you do not bring too much of yourself. You perform belonging rather than experiencing it. This is where a lot of well-intentioned organisations currently sit. They have moved beyond tolerance. They are genuinely not hostile. But they have stopped short of the harder work: actually changing the culture to make difference not just permissible, but genuinely welcome. Explore what that culture work looks like in the guide on inclusive leadership . What embrace looks like Embrace is not a feelings exercise or a poster on the wall. It is a measurable cultural condition in which people can bring their whole selves — their identity, their lived experience, their perspective — without cost. At embrace: Difference is treated as information, not a problem to navigate around or a novelty to perform. People's lived experience is recognised as expertise, not just background colour. Psychological safety is real enough that someone can say "that landed badly" without fearing the relationship or their career. The organisation changes to accommodate people — not the other way round. Belonging is the default, not something individuals have to earn or perform. Embrace is what diversity and inclusion is actually for. It is the condition in which diverse teams deliver on their potential, because people are no longer spending energy on self-protection. Where is your organisation on the spectrum? Most organisations over-estimate their position. They read their own policies and values statements, rather than listening to how people who carry difference actually experience the culture. The honest question to ask is not "do we have an inclusion policy?" but "what do people experience when they are different here — every single day?" That question is uncomfortable. It should be. Discomfort is usually a sign you are getting closer to the truth. The work of moving up the spectrum begins with being willing to hear the answer honestly, without becoming defensive. That is also the foundation of the Inclusive Leadership & Engagement keynote. Take it further Read more on all guides , explore the diversity and inclusion topic , or hear these ideas examined in depth on the Inclusion Bites podcast . If you want to explore what this work could look like in your organisation, get in touch . ## Common questions { Q: `What is the difference between being tolerated, accepted, and embraced at work?`, A: `Being tolerated means you are permitted to be present but not genuinely welcomed — your difference is put up with rather than valued, and microaggressions accumulate over time. Being accepted means your skills and output are valued, but your whole self — your identity, lived experience, and perspective — is kept at arm's length. Being embraced means all of who you are is celebrated, including the very difference that might once have made you feel unwelcome. The gap between tolerated and embraced is enormous, and most organisations sit somewhere in the middle without realising it.`, }, { Q: `Why is being tolerated sometimes worse than being excluded?`, A: `Exclusion is at least legible — you know where you stand. Being tolerated places you inside the organisation but under constant low-level attrition: the comment that wasn't quite a compliment, the question that implied you don't belong, the meeting where your contribution was heard last and credited to someone else. As Joanne Lockwood puts it, it is a death by a thousand cuts, day in, day out. That chronic drip of microaggressions is exhausting in a way that overt exclusion, painful as it is, often is not — because at least overt exclusion does not gaslight you into wondering whether you are imagining it.`, }, { Q: `How can organisations move from tolerating to embracing difference?`, A: `Start by being honest about where you actually are on the spectrum. Most organisations believe they are at acceptance when they are still closer to tolerance. Listen to the people who carry difference — not to gather data for a report, but to act on what they tell you. Build psychological safety so that uncomfortable truths can surface without career risk. Train leaders to catch and interrupt microaggressions in the moment, not after the fact. And measure culture by how people experience it, not by what the policy document says.`, }, --- ### Inclusion by design: the soup-spoon test https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/inclusion-by-design-the-soup-spoon-test Inclusion by design is the discipline of asking "Who are we not thinking of?" before a product, policy, or process goes live — not as a retrofit, but as a standard step in how you work. It recognises that most exclusion is accidental: the result of designing around a default user and never noticing who that leaves behind. The spoon that started it all I carry a travel thermos with a collapsible spoon. The spoon has a locking mechanism so it does not fall open in your bag. Except — it only locks if you are right-handed. As I said when I first noticed it: "This soup flask was designed by a right-handed person. So if I'm right-handed, the spoon locks. No one ever went, hang on a minute, it doesn't work if you're left-handed." It is a tiny thing. Nobody was trying to exclude left-handed people. The designer simply never thought about them — because the designer was right-handed, and so was everyone else in the room when the spoon was made. That is the soup-spoon test: the moment you realise a design was built around one kind of person and everyone else just has to make do. The spoon matters because it is relatable and concrete. But the same logic applies to every process in your organisation: your recruitment system, your appraisal framework, your office layout, your communication style, your event format, your onboarding pack. All of them were designed by someone, for someone. The question is whether that "someone" was broad enough. Unconscious exclusion is still exclusion One of the most important shifts in diversity and inclusion thinking is moving from "we didn't mean to exclude anyone" to "we need to actively check that we haven't." Intent does not change the impact on the person who cannot use the spoon. As I put it: "If we're not consciously inclusive, we are likely to be unconsciously inclusive in excluding somebody." The word "inclusive" there is doing deliberate work. Being unconsciously exclusive is the default state. Conscious inclusion requires effort, attention, and — crucially — the right people in the room. This is not about blame. The designer of the spoon was not a bad person. But organisations that wait to be told about a problem before fixing it will always be playing catch-up. Inclusion by design moves the work upstream. The one design question that changes everything The practical output of the soup-spoon test is a single question you can build into any design process: Who are we not thinking of? Simple. Uncomfortable. Transformative. You can ask it at the start of a project brief, in a policy review meeting, before a product ships, after a recruitment round, or whenever a process is being redesigned. It does not require a specialist. It requires the habit. A follow-up question that gives it teeth: "How can we bring that voice into our design process?" Not just identify the gap — close it. Co-design with the people who would otherwise be designed around. Invite them into the room before the decision is made, not afterwards to rubber-stamp what has already been decided. Where inclusion by design shows up Once you start looking for it, you see the soup-spoon problem everywhere: Recruitment. A job description written in highly specific corporate language by someone who already works there will attract people who already sound like the team. See the guide on inclusive recruitment for practical fixes. Meetings and events. An all-day in-person event with a fixed agenda and no dietary options listed was designed around someone with full mobility, no caring responsibilities, and no access needs. Communications. An email written assuming a particular cultural frame of reference, sent without a plain-English option, excludes people with lower literacy or a different first language. Performance processes. An appraisal system that rewards visibility and self-promotion will systematically disadvantage people from cultures or backgrounds where that behaviour is discouraged. Digital products. A user interface that has never been tested with assistive technology was designed by people who do not use it. Schools and colleges. A private toilet or changing option, available to anyone who wants it with no questions asked, helps the autistic learner, the learner with a medical need and the anxious Year 7 at once — an idea at the heart of Joanne's education keynote, Belonging for Every Learner . None of these failures require bad intentions. They all require the same fix: asking, at design time, who is not represented by the people making the decisions. How inclusive leaders make it stick Inclusion by design is not a one-off audit — it is a cultural habit. Leaders who take part in Inclusive Leadership & Engagement build it in by making "Who are we not thinking of?" a standard agenda item in design meetings, not an afterthought. They make it safe to raise, so that junior team members feel as empowered to ask the question as senior ones. The discipline also sits alongside active diversity work : if the people in the room are more varied to begin with, the soup-spoon problem is less likely to arise, because the left-handed person is already there. But representation alone is not enough — you still need the culture and the habit. Hear more of these ideas explored on the Inclusion Bites podcast , or browse the full guides library for related reading. ## Common questions { Q: `What is the soup-spoon test?`, A: `The soup-spoon test is Joanne Lockwood's shorthand for unconscious design exclusion. A travel thermos spoon that only locks for right-handed users illustrates how most products, services, and processes are built around a default user — and the people left out are simply the ones who were never in the room when it was designed. The test is the habit of pausing and asking: "Who are we not thinking of?"`, }, { Q: `What does "inclusion by design" mean in practice?`, A: `Inclusion by design means building the question "Who are we not thinking of?" into your normal design, policy, or process workflow — before something goes live, not as a retrofit afterwards. It is not a checklist or a compliance exercise; it is a mindset shift that recognises the people you did not consciously include are the ones your design is likely to exclude.`, }, { Q: `How do I bring unrepresented voices into a design process?`, A: `Start by mapping who is currently in the room when decisions are made, then ask who is missing. Practical steps include co-designing with affected communities rather than designing for them, running structured reviews that surface edge cases (disability, language, culture, working pattern), and creating safe feedback channels so people can flag exclusion without career risk. The goal is to move from "we consulted the usual suspects" to "we heard from the people most likely to be left out."`, }, --- ### Why inclusive language matters https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/why-inclusive-language-matters Inclusive language is communicating in a way that helps people feel seen, heard and valued — that quietly signals you were thought of here . It is less a list of "good words" and "bad words" and more a set of behaviours: caring how something lands, paying attention, and being willing to adjust. The foundation isn't perfection. It's respect plus willingness. Language shapes belonging Words are not neutral. They carry history, assumption and emotional weight, and they tell people — often before anyone has said anything explicit — whether this is a place where they fit. When we communicate inclusively, people feel taken into consideration; they feel like they matter. When we don't, the opposite happens: relationships fray, trust drops, and people quietly disengage. The damage is rarely dramatic. It's cumulative. This is why I treat inclusive language as a belonging issue, not a vocabulary test. You can have all the right words and still make someone feel othered. You can fumble the words and still make someone feel genuinely welcome. What people pick up on is whether you actually cared how it would land for them. The fear of getting it wrong The single most common thing people say to me about inclusive language is that they're afraid of getting it wrong. That fear is real, and it has a cost: it makes people lean back. They avoid the conversation, avoid the person, avoid the topic — "what if I say the wrong thing?" — and that withdrawal reads, to the person on the receiving end, as exclusion. Silence is communication too, and it can land very badly on someone who was hoping you'd simply reach out. So let me say it plainly: no one needs to know everything. The goal isn't to become a walking dictionary of correct terms — partly because the terms keep moving, so by the time you've memorised the list, some of it has shifted. The goal is to care enough to do a little homework, stay open to feedback, and be able to correct yourself calmly when you slip. Do those three things and you can have a good conversation with almost anyone. Intent, impact and accountability The framework I come back to again and again is intent → impact → accountability . It's the most useful way I know to think through a language moment without it spiralling into shame. Intent is what you meant. Usually it's benign — most people are trying to do the right thing. Impact is how it landed for the other person. This is real, and it doesn't depend on what you intended. Accountability is what happens next — the bridge between the two. Two principles hold this together: good intent does not erase poor impact , and poor impact does not automatically make someone a bad person. Both halves matter. The first stops us hiding behind "but I didn't mean anything by it"; the second stops us treating every misstep as proof of a bad character. Most language friction isn't malice — it's habit, or nervousness, or simply not having met many people different from ourselves. Accountability is where we make it right. Care is the root of it When I talk with the linguistic anthropologist Suzanne Wertheim on the Inclusion Bites podcast , we land in the same place from different directions: if you care enough about how the other person feels — their needs, their lived experience, what makes the conversation go well for them — you will do your best to get it right, and you'll usually find your way. You don't have to know every word. You just have to want a positive outcome badly enough to pay attention and own your words when they miss. And — this matters — you don't have to sound a certain way to be inclusive. Inclusive language isn't about performing the right vocabulary or sounding "woke". It's about precision and respect: choosing words that reflect reality, show respect and draw people in, rather than words that erase or stereotype them. Respect, not perfection If you take one thing from this guide, take this: inclusive language is not about getting it perfect. It's about respect, willingness and repair. The people who do it well aren't the ones who never slip — they're the ones who handle the slip calmly and move on. That's a far more reachable standard than perfection, and a far more human one. You can explore the practical side of this in the guide on everyday inclusive language , learn the repair model in getting it wrong gracefully , or read more across the guides library . ## Common questions { Q: `What is inclusive language, really?`, A: `Inclusive language is communicating in a way that helps people feel seen, heard and valued — that signals "you were thought of here". It is far less about memorising a list of approved words and far more about a set of behaviours: caring how something lands, paying attention, and being willing to adjust. Joanne frames it as respect plus willingness, not perfection or word-policing.`, }, { Q: `What is the difference between intent and impact?`, A: `Intent is what you meant; impact is how it landed. They are not the same, and the gap between them is where most language friction lives. Joanne's principle is simple: good intent does not erase poor impact, and poor impact does not make someone a bad person. What bridges the two is accountability — what you do next.`, }, { Q: `Do I have to know all the right words to be inclusive?`, A: `No. No one needs to know everything. What matters is caring enough to do a little homework, staying open to feedback, and being able to correct a mistake calmly in the moment. If you genuinely want the conversation to go well, you will usually find your way to language that works — and you can always ask.`, }, --- ### Everyday inclusive language https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/everyday-inclusive-language Everyday inclusive language is the steady stream of small choices in how we speak and write — the job titles we reach for, the idioms we lean on, the assumptions tucked into a greeting. None of it is dramatic. But it adds up, and it's where most of us can make the biggest difference with the least effort: a handful of swaps that quietly signal everyone here was thought of . Behaviour, not a banned-words list Plenty of advice on inclusive language reduces it to two columns: bad words here, good words there. I find that framing unhelpful — it makes people anxious, and the lists go out of date almost as fast as you can learn them. It's far more useful to think behaviourally: what am I doing with my language? Am I reflecting reality, showing respect and drawing people in — or am I, without meaning to, erasing or stereotyping someone? That shift matters because it's portable. You can't memorise every word for every group, but you can carry one question into any situation: would this help the person in front of me feel seen, or unseen? The assumptions hiding in plain sight Most everyday exclusion isn't in obviously loaded words — it's in the assumptions built into ordinary phrasing. A few that show up constantly: Gendered job titles. "Chairman", "spokesman", "manpower", "the right man for the job". Swaps like "chair", "spokesperson", "workforce" and "the right person" cost nothing and exclude no one. Assumed relationships. Asking about someone's "husband" or "wife" assumes both that they have a partner and what gender that partner is. "Partner" keeps the door open. "Hey guys". A tiny one, and a good example: "hey folks", "hey everyone" or "hey team" does the same job without quietly defaulting the room to male. Intrusive curiosity. What feels like caring interest — "how come you use a wheelchair?", "where are you really from?" — can land as intrusive. The respectful default is to talk to people about what you're there to talk about, not about their characteristics. Idioms and references. Phrases that depend on a particular culture, generation or first language don't always travel. You don't need to purge them — just notice when they might not land, and be ready to say it another way. "That was the term we always used" One of the most common — and most human — responses to a gently flagged word is, "but that's the term we always used; I didn't mean anything by it." I believe people when they say that. Usually there's no malice at all, just habit colliding with shifting language. But habit isn't the same as good practice, and "I didn't mean anything by it" is about intent — it doesn't change how the word landed. The good news is that updating is easy and rarely needs a performance. You notice, you swap the word, you carry on. No long apology, no self-flagellation — just a willingness to move with the language rather than dig in. If you'd like to understand why words shift in the first place, the guide on how language keeps moving goes deeper. Mirror, then ask When you're genuinely unsure what to say, two simple habits cover most situations. First, mirror the language people use about themselves. If someone describes themselves as a "disabled person", follow their lead; if they say "person with a disability", follow that instead. Their words about themselves are your best guide. Second, when mirroring isn't possible, ask — respectfully and proportionately. A light "is it OK if I…?" is almost always better received than either a confident assumption or an anxious silence. A small story makes the point. A close friend of mine is a wheelchair user, and one day I caught myself mid-sentence — "shall we walk to the pub?" — and got all heated in my head: walk? she's a wheelchair user, is that ableist? She just said, "yeah, let's go for a walk, that's fine." She uses contemporary language about her own activity. I was making a far bigger deal of it than it was. The lesson: pick up on the language people actually use, and don't over-cook every word. Don't tip into overthinking There's a version of "being careful" that becomes its own problem — scanning every sentence for traps, apologising for words nobody flinched at, turning a relaxed exchange into an audit. That helps no one, and it often makes the other person feel othered rather than included. The standard is good judgement and proportion, not perfection. Most of these swaps become automatic within weeks. The rest you can navigate by caring, paying attention and being willing to ask. If a moment does go sideways, that's normal — and recoverable. The guide on getting it wrong gracefully walks through exactly how. You can also read the wider philosophy in why inclusive language matters , or browse the full guides library . ## Common questions { Q: `What are some simple inclusive language swaps I can start with?`, A: `A few low-effort, high-value ones: "hey folks" or "hey everyone" instead of "hey guys"; "chair" or "spokesperson" instead of "chairman" or "spokesman"; "partner" instead of assuming husband or wife; "the front of the queue" instead of idioms that may not travel. The point isn't to memorise a list — it's to notice where your default wording quietly assumes a particular kind of person.`, }, { Q: `"That's just the term we always used" — does it really matter if I update it?`, A: `It matters, and updating it is usually easy. "That was the term we always used" is honest and common — but habit isn't the same as good practice, and language carries history that can land badly even when no harm was meant. The fix is rarely dramatic: notice, swap the word, move on. You don't need a long apology, just a willingness to update.`, }, { Q: `Isn't worrying about idioms and job titles overthinking it?`, A: `It can tip into overthinking if you treat every word as a trap — and Joanne is clear you shouldn't. The aim is good judgement, not paralysis. Most everyday swaps are tiny and become automatic quickly. Where you're genuinely unsure, mirror the language people use about themselves, or simply ask. Curiosity beats either assumption or anxious over-correction.`, }, --- ### Getting it wrong gracefully https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/getting-it-wrong-gracefully Getting it wrong gracefully is the skill of repair: noticing a misstep, acknowledging it, correcting it and moving on — calmly and proportionately. It rests on a simple truth I return to often: confidence is not never making mistakes; confidence is handling uncertainty and repair calmly when they happen. The mistake is rarely the problem. How we handle it is. Always have a plan B in your back pocket I tell people: think about the why, but also have a plan B in your back pocket — if I upset someone or get it wrong, what's my response? Because you will, at some point, get it wrong. The people who navigate it well aren't the ones who never slip; they're the ones who've already decided, in advance, that a slip is survivable and that they know what to do next. That decision takes the panic out of the moment before it arrives. The repair model When something does go wrong, this is the sequence I teach — five small steps that keep the repair proportionate: 1. Notice it. Catch the slip, or hear the feedback, without bracing for attack. 2. Acknowledge it. A brief, genuine acknowledgement of the impact — not a denial, not a defence. 3. Correct it. Use the right word, stop the behaviour, fix the immediate thing. 4. Move on appropriately. Don't linger. Returning quickly to the conversation is part of the respect. 5. Reflect later if needed. If it's worth understanding why it happened, do that afterwards — privately, not in the moment. In a live, in-the-moment slip — say you use the wrong pronoun — that whole model can be one breath: "…she — sorry, they — was saying…" and you carry on. The correction is the apology. You don't need to stop the meeting. Why over-apologising backfires This is the part people get wrong most often, usually with the best intentions. A long, repeated apology feels caring — but it quietly recentres the moment on you : your guilt, your discomfort, your need to be seen doing the right thing. I've watched a well-meaning manager turn a single pronoun slip into a spiral — "oh my goodness, I'm so sorry, I've done it again, I really need to respect that you're non-binary…" — and the effect is the opposite of what they intended. It highlights the other person's difference, makes them othered, and forces them to manage your feelings on top of their own. So a short correction isn't you being casual about it. It's you being respectful. Brevity keeps the spotlight where it belongs — on the conversation and the person — rather than on your performance of remorse. The "boots and sandals" lesson: do's and don'ts I use a little story — a heavy boot accidentally stepping on a light sandal's toes — to show how the same mistake can go two very different ways. The boot didn't mean to cause harm. But the harm is real, and what happens next is everything. The unhelpful reactions are all forms of dodging accountability: Centring yourself — "I can't believe you think I'm a toe-stepper, I'm a good person." Now it's about your character, not their pain. Denying their experience — "I don't mind when people step on my toes." Your tolerance isn't theirs. Derailing / "all toes matter" — shifting to a general point to avoid the specific harm in front of you. Tone policing — "I'd move if you asked more nicely." Criticising how someone expresses pain instead of addressing the pain. Withdrawing — "fine, I'll just go home." Walking off when challenged abandons the repair entirely. The graceful version is short and complete: "Are you OK? I'm sorry — I'll move my foot right away. From now on I'll be more careful where I step." Centre the person, listen, apologise for the impact even though it was unintentional, stop the instance, and stop the pattern. That's accountability — calm, proportionate, done. Good intent, real impact, calm accountability Underpinning all of this is intent → impact → accountability . Good intent does not erase poor impact — so "I didn't mean it" can't be the whole response. But poor impact does not make you a bad person either — so you don't need to collapse into shame. Accountability is the bridge: acknowledge, correct, commit, move on. That's a standard anyone can meet, on a normal day, without drama. And remember the wider principle from the leaning in, not leaning away guide: the fear of getting it wrong makes people withdraw, and withdrawal reads as exclusion. Knowing you can repair well is exactly what frees you to lean in. Handling other people's slip-ups too The same calm proportion applies when you're the one noticing someone else's misstep. The goal is to call people in , not out — a brief, low-drama nudge that lets them update without being humiliated. Not every mistake needs escalation; not every slip needs a big conversation. Match the response to the moment. For the harder versions of these exchanges, see courageous conversations at work . For the words themselves, the guide on pronouns & inclusive language at work is the natural companion to this one, and you can read the bigger picture in why inclusive language matters . For schools and colleges, Joanne builds this into her education keynote, Belonging for Every Learner — a quick "Sorry, Sam" and "I don't know, but I'll find out" as complete, professional answers for every member of staff. ## Common questions { Q: `What should I do the moment I realise I've used the wrong word?`, A: `Keep it light and quick. Notice it, acknowledge it briefly, correct it, and move on — for example: "…she — sorry, they — was saying…" and carry on. The most helpful first response is a small, calm correction, not a big production. You can reflect later if you want to understand why it happened, but in the moment, brevity is kindness.`, }, { Q: `Why does over-apologising make things worse?`, A: `Because a long, repeated apology shifts the spotlight onto your feelings and your discomfort, when the moment should stay light and centred on the other person. Joanne has seen managers turn a one-word slip into a drawn-out "I'm so sorry, I've done it again, I really need to respect…" — which highlights the other person's difference and forces them to comfort you. A brief correction respects everyone. Over-apologising centres you.`, }, { Q: `What's the difference between accountability and panic?`, A: `Accountability is calm and proportionate: acknowledge the impact, correct it, and commit to doing better. Panic is centring your own embarrassment — over-explaining, repeating apologies, becoming flustered — which makes the other person manage your reaction on top of their own. Confidence isn't never making mistakes; it's handling the repair calmly when they happen.`, }, --- ### Language keeps moving https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/language-keeps-moving Language is not fixed. It changes over time, across communities and across settings — because it tracks how people actually understand themselves. That's why you can't simply memorise a list of "correct" words: by the time you've learned it, some of it has moved on. The durable skill isn't memory. It's curiosity, and a willingness to keep updating. Why words move Terms shift for the same reasons all language shifts. A word picks up baggage and falls out of favour; a community reclaims a label that was once used against it; a clinical term softens into everyday speech, or hardens into something people no longer want. None of this is new or unique to inclusion — it's how living language has always behaved. What's changed is mostly that more people now expect a little care about which words we reach for. So when a term you've used for years starts to feel dated, that's not a sign the world has gone mad. It's the ordinary churn of language doing what it has always done. The useful response is to notice, stay curious about what shifted, and move with it — the same gentle updating covered in everyday inclusive language . Across communities and settings Language doesn't only move through time — it varies across people and places at any single moment. An adult learner may use a term for themselves that a younger colleague would never choose. A teenager may use newer identity language that an older colleague doesn't fully recognise. In a particular trade or industry, the norms shift again, shaped by workplace culture. What sounds respectful and self-evident in one corner can sound unfamiliar, outdated or oddly formal in another. The trap is assuming one rule fits everyone. It doesn't. The skill is knowing when to mirror the language people use about themselves, when to default to neutral wording, and when to pause and ask rather than assume. Just because one person tells you a word is fine doesn't mean it applies to everyone in that group — their experience is their experience, not the whole community's. Even pronouns take practice It's worth being honest that some of this genuinely is hard, and that's normal. Pronouns are a good example: linguists will tell you they're stored differently in the brain from most words — they're a small, closed set we use automatically — so shifting a long-held habit takes real practice. I know this personally. After fifty-two years using one set of pronouns, I still don't get my own right every time. At my daughter's wedding I gave the father-of-the-bride speech and systematically misgendered myself several times, because "there's no prouder moment in a father's life than when he gives his daughter away" simply would not bend in my head. That's the weight of decades of habit — and a reminder to be gentle with people who are genuinely trying. "It's all gone too far" You'll hear it, often half-joking: "you can't say anything these days." It's worth taking seriously rather than swatting away, because underneath it is usually something honest — fatigue, fear of getting it wrong, or impatience with change. Sitting beneath the frustration is often anxiety, not malice. But the claim, taken literally, overstates things. Far less has become genuinely unsayable than it can feel; what's actually shifted is that more people now expect a little care. Meeting the comment with a defensive shutdown — or with a lecture — tends to harden it. Meeting it with curiosity tends to open it: what's changed, and why does that change matter to the people affected? That's a far more useful conversation than deciding the whole thing has gone too far. The guide on agreeing to understand goes deeper into how to hold that kind of exchange. Curiosity is the whole game If language is always moving, then no fixed level of knowledge will ever keep you "done". That sounds exhausting — but it's actually freeing, because it means the standard was never encyclopaedic recall. The standard is a posture: curious, not defensive; willing to learn, willing to be corrected, willing to update. Hold your terminology with an open hand — etch your views, don't carve them — and you'll move with the language instead of bracing against it. Curiosity also does some of your homework for you. Diversifying who you read, watch and follow lets you absorb how people talk about themselves almost by osmosis — so you arrive at conversations having already done a little work, rather than expecting others to educate you from scratch. Read the philosophy in why inclusive language matters , learn to recover when you slip in getting it wrong gracefully , or browse the full guides library . ## Common questions { Q: `Why does inclusive language keep changing?`, A: `Because language is alive, not fixed. Words pick up and shed meaning over time, communities reclaim or retire terms, and what feels respectful in one setting can feel formal or outdated in another. It changes for the same reason all language changes — it tracks how people actually understand themselves. The aim isn't to memorise the latest list; it's to stay curious and willing to update.`, }, { Q: `Is it true that "you can't say anything these days"?`, A: `It's a real feeling, and worth taking seriously rather than dismissing — but it usually overstates things. Far less has become unsayable than it can feel; what's changed is that more people now expect a bit of care. Underneath the phrase is often fatigue, fear of getting it wrong, or impatience with change. The constructive response is curiosity about what's shifted, not a defensive shutdown.`, }, { Q: `Different generations use different language — who's right?`, A: `Often no one is simply "right". An adult learner, a teenager and a colleague from a particular industry may all use different words for the same thing, each normal in their own context. The skill isn't picking a single correct term for everyone — it's mirroring the language people use about themselves, defaulting to neutral wording when unsure, and asking respectfully rather than assuming one rule fits all.`, }, --- ### Microaggressions at Work: Small Cuts That Add Up https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/microaggressions-at-work Most microaggressions aren’t delivered with malice. They’re habits, assumptions and clumsy attempts at connection — which is exactly what makes them so easy to miss and so hard to name. The person on the receiving end is left deciding whether to say something and risk being “difficult”, or let it go and carry it. Joanne Lockwood’s framing is simple: the issue isn’t whether you meant harm, it’s whether harm landed . What are microaggressions? Small cuts hurt Microaggressions are everyday verbal, non-verbal and environmental slights or insults that may be unintentional but still cause harm. They’re the throwaway comment, the assumption about who you are, the joke that isn’t quite a joke. “Micro” describes the size of each event, not the size of its effect — because the effect isn’t in any single cut. It’s in the accumulation. Common examples: words like daggers You’ll recognise these. “Where are you really from?” Reaching out to touch a colleague’s hair without asking. Assuming the most junior person in the room made the tea, or that the senior person is the one speaking. Expressing surprise that someone is “so articulate”. Each is offered casually — sometimes as a compliment — and each carries a quiet message: you’re not quite what I expected someone like you to be. The cumulative impact: invisible bruises Here’s the part that’s easy to underestimate. One comment is survivable; that’s the defence people reach for — “it was only a little thing.” But microaggressions accumulate over time, wearing away at wellbeing and at someone’s sense of belonging. They’re invisible bruises : you can’t see them, the person carrying them often can’t point to the one that did the damage, and yet the weight is real. When you understand that, “it was only a little thing” stops being a defence and starts being the whole problem. If you experience one: you’re allowed to name it You don’t owe anyone a confrontation, and you’re not obliged to educate. But you are allowed to name what happened, on your terms. A calm, curious question often does more than an accusation: “What did you mean by that?” invites the other person to hear themselves. Sometimes naming it later, or to someone you trust, is the right call — and that’s legitimate too. The goal isn’t to win the moment; it’s to stop carrying something that was never yours to carry alone. If you witness one: allies act Bystanders have more power than they think. Noticing a microaggression and saying nothing leaves the targeted person to absorb it alone; a quiet word — in the moment or afterwards — changes that. You don’t need a dramatic intervention. “I’m not sure that landed the way you intended,” or simply checking in afterwards with “are you OK?” is allyship in action. This is the everyday hold the rope work: showing up when it costs you a little, not just when it’s comfortable. If you commit one: defensiveness shields guilt You will get it wrong sometimes — everyone does. When someone tells you a comment caused harm, every instinct says defend yourself : explain what you meant, prove you’re not that kind of person. Resist it. Defensiveness shields your guilt and does nothing for the person in front of you. Focus on impact rather than intent. Listen, acknowledge, and take immediate action to correct your behaviour. Learning from the experience is the work — not proving you didn’t need to. “You can mean no harm and still leave a bruise. The grown-up move is to own the impact, not litigate the intent.” — Joanne Lockwood Apologies heal: repair over perfection A sincere apology is not an admission that you’re a bad person — it’s repair. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t my intention but I can see the impact, and I’ll do better” costs you very little and gives a great deal. Then move forward without making the other person manage your remorse. Nobody is asking you to be perfect. They’re asking you to be willing to mend it. If owning mistakes well is something you’d like to get better at, our guide on getting it wrong gracefully goes deeper. Curiosity over correction: call people in When you’re the one challenging a microaggression — your own organisation’s, or a colleague’s — lead with curiosity, not correction. Calling people in assumes good intent and opens a door; calling them out shames them and drives the behaviour underground. The same instinct runs through courageous conversations at work : you can be honest about impact and still leave someone’s dignity intact. That’s how change built on understanding outlasts change built on fear. Building the culture: hear the unheard None of this is only an individual fix. Organisations reduce microaggressions by making it safe to talk about them — open, non-defensive listening, clear and confidential ways to raise concerns, and leaders who model the behaviour rather than just mandate it. The aim is a workplace where naming a small cut isn’t treated as making a fuss, but as everyday maintenance of belonging. That’s the heart of conscious inclusion : noticing the small things on purpose, before they accumulate. Test your own instincts Most microaggressions live in language we’ve never paused to examine. A quick way to take your own temperature is the Inclusive Language Confidence self-check — a few minutes that surfaces the habits worth a second look, with no judgement attached. Curiosity over correction starts with being willing to look at our own words first. ## Common questions { Q: 'What is a microaggression at work?', A: 'A microaggression is an everyday verbal, non-verbal or environmental slight or insult — often unintentional — that signals to someone they don’t quite belong. “Where are you really from?” or touching a colleague’s hair without asking are common examples. Any single one can look small; the harm is in how they add up.', }, { Q: 'Are microaggressions always intentional?', A: 'Rarely. Most come from habit, assumption or a clumsy attempt at connection rather than malice. That’s exactly why intent isn’t the measure that matters — impact is. You can mean no harm and still leave a bruise, and the grown-up response is to own the impact rather than defend the intent.', }, { Q: 'How should I respond if someone tells me I’ve committed a microaggression?', A: 'Resist the urge to defend yourself. Defensiveness shields your guilt but does nothing for the person in front of you. Listen, acknowledge the impact, offer a sincere apology, correct the behaviour and move on without making them manage your feelings. Repair, not perfection, is the goal.', }, --- ### Imposter Syndrome at Work https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/imposter-syndrome-at-work Imposter syndrome is that gap between what you’ve actually achieved and how qualified you feel to have achieved it. You did the work, you got the role, you delivered the result — and a voice still whispers that it was luck, timing, or that everyone is about to realise you’re not as capable as they thought. It’s incredibly common, and it shows up in some of the most accomplished people Joanne works with. The first thing to say is the kindest: this is a shared human experience, not a personal defect . It’s a feeling to manage, not a diagnosis to carry. Know the masks it wears Imposter syndrome rarely announces itself plainly. It wears masks. There’s the perfectionist who can’t ship anything that isn’t flawless; the superhero who overworks to prove they deserve their seat; the expert who never feels they’ve learned enough to begin; the natural genius who panics the moment something is hard; and the soloist who believes asking for help would expose them. Recognising your own mask is the first step — you can’t loosen a grip you haven’t noticed. “Understand that imposter syndrome takes various forms — perfectionism, the superhero, the expert, the natural genius, and the soloist. Knowing the mask is the start of taking it off.” — Joanne Lockwood Why it’s amplified for under-represented people Here’s the part that often gets missed: imposter feelings aren’t spread evenly. If you walk into rooms where almost no one shares your background, identity or lived experience, the thought “I don’t belong here” has a great deal more to feed on. That’s not weakness — it’s frequently a reasonable read of an environment that wasn’t designed with you in mind. Imposter syndrome thrives precisely where belonging is thin and psychological safety is low. For people from under-represented groups, the volume is often turned up by the context, not by any shortfall in ability. Naming that is liberating: sometimes the problem genuinely is the room, not you. Attribute your success accurately One of the most useful habits is to own your victories . When something goes well, imposter syndrome rushes to credit luck, other people, or good timing — anything but you. So chart your success : keep a quiet record of your accomplishments and the positive feedback you receive, and revisit it when the doubt is loud. Your results are not an accident; they’re the product of your hard work, talent and dedication. This is also why the difference between credentials and credibility matters — you earn trust by what you do, not only by the letters after your name. Set realistic expectations and reframe failure Aim for achievable. Unattainably high goals manufacture feelings of inadequacy. Set expectations you can actually meet. Perfection is a myth. Making mistakes and not knowing everything is part of learning and growing — not evidence of fraud. Failure is a teacher. Treat setbacks as a natural part of the process, not proof of your inadequacy. Normalise not knowing. Embrace the gaps in your knowledge as opportunities to grow rather than signs of failure. Embrace uncertainty. Not knowing everything is inevitable — it doesn’t make you a fraud. Stop comparing — run your own race Comparison is rocket fuel for imposter syndrome. You measure your behind-the-scenes against everyone else’s highlight reel and conclude you’re falling short. Everyone has a different set of skills and a different path to success; the only useful comparison is with where you were yesterday. Pair that with a growth mindset — seeing challenges as chances to learn rather than tests you’re destined to fail — and the inner critic loses its best ammunition. Be kind to yourself, and break the silence Treat yourself with the same kindness and understanding you’d offer a friend in the same situation — you’d never speak to them the way the inner critic speaks to you. And talk about it . Sharing the feeling with colleagues, mentors or friends who have felt it too does something remarkable: it normalises the experience and drains its power. Half the spell of imposter syndrome is the belief that you’re the only one in the room feeling it. You almost never are. “Share your feelings with people who may have had similar experiences. Sharing can normalise these feelings and reduce their power.” — Joanne Lockwood Practical habits to keep it in its place Identify and challenge the critic. Catch the negative thought, test whether it’s actually true, and reframe it into something realistic. Seek constructive feedback. Genuine feedback is your friend — it helps you tell real input from your own overly harsh self-assessment. Celebrate small wins. Recognising small achievements regularly builds a steady sense of competence. Set personal boundaries. Overextending yourself to prove your worth only feeds the feeling. Draw your lines. Mentor others. Teaching someone in an area where you feel like an imposter reinforces your own knowledge — and your confidence. The leadership angle: build cultures where it’s less likely Imposter syndrome isn’t only an individual’s job to fix. Leaders set the conditions in which it either grows or fades. Managers reduce it by going first: saying “I don’t know” out loud, attributing success accurately and publicly, giving specific feedback instead of vague praise, and making it genuinely safe to ask a question or admit a mistake. When people feel they belong and won’t be punished for being human, the fraud feeling has far less room to take hold. Want a sense of where your team stands? Try the Emotional Intelligence self-check or the Psychological Safety & Belonging self-check for an honest starting point. ## Common questions { Q: 'What is imposter syndrome at work?', A: 'Imposter syndrome is the common experience of doubting your own abilities and feeling like a fraud who will be “found out”, despite real evidence of your competence. It isn’t a medical diagnosis or a disorder — it’s a widely shared feeling that shows up in lots of capable people. It tends to wear masks: perfectionism, the superhero who overworks, the expert who never feels ready, the natural genius who fears struggle, and the soloist who won’t ask for help.', }, { Q: 'Why does imposter syndrome affect under-represented people more?', A: 'When you rarely see anyone who looks like you in the room, the feeling of “I don’t belong here” has more to feed on. It isn’t a personal flaw — it’s often a reasonable response to environments that weren’t built with you in mind. Imposter feelings thrive where belonging and psychological safety are thin, so for people from under-represented groups the volume is frequently turned up by the context, not by any lack of ability.', }, { Q: 'How can managers reduce imposter syndrome in their teams?', A: 'Leaders set the conditions. Normalise not knowing by saying “I don’t know” out loud, attribute success accurately and publicly, give specific constructive feedback rather than vague praise, and make it safe to ask questions or make mistakes. When people feel they genuinely belong and won’t be punished for being human, the fraud feeling has far less room to grow.', }, --- ### Employee Resource Groups & Staff Networks https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/ergs-and-staff-networks Almost every organisation that takes inclusion seriously ends up here: someone says, “Should we start a network?” It’s a good instinct. Employee resource groups (ERGs) and staff networks are one of the most practical, low-cost ways to turn good intentions into something people can actually feel at work. But the gap between a thriving network and a well-meaning one that quietly fizzles out is wide — and it usually comes down to mandate, resource and sponsorship rather than enthusiasm. Here’s how to get it right. Building blocks of inclusion Start with what these groups actually are. An ERG or staff network is a voluntary, employee-led group — usually formed around a shared identity or lived experience, and open to allies — that fosters a more diverse, inclusive workplace aligned with the organisation’s mission, values and goals. The terms are often used interchangeably: “ERG” in North America, “staff network” in the UK. The label matters far less than the design. “Networks aren’t a nice-to-have on the side of the business — they’re the building blocks of an inclusive culture. They’re where belonging gets built, one honest conversation at a time.” — Joanne Lockwood They sit alongside — not instead of — the everyday work of inclusion. A network gives people somewhere to find each other; the broader job of building a culture of belonging is what stops anyone needing to leave a part of themselves at the door in the first place. Strength in diversity: the value they bring When networks work, the benefits ripple in three directions. For individuals , they offer connection, support and a route to personal and professional development. For the organisation , they lift engagement, surface issues early, and provide a genuine read on how different groups experience the business. And for strategy , they offer insight into diverse market segments, sharpen recruitment, and improve retention — people stay where they feel they belong. Development. Members build skills, visibility and confidence — and leaders emerge who might never have raised a hand otherwise. Engagement. People who feel seen give more, stay longer and speak more freely. Insight. A network is an early-warning system and a focus group rolled into one — if you actually listen. From the ground up: starting a network You don’t need a grand launch. You need a handful of committed people and a few decisions made deliberately rather than by accident: Identify a clear purpose. What is this network for, and who is it for? A vague remit pleases no one. Gather interest. Test whether the appetite is real before you build the scaffolding. A small, energised group beats a large, indifferent one. Secure executive sponsorship early. Don’t leave this until the network exists and is asking for things. The mandate comes first. The order matters. A network launched without backing has to spend its first year fighting for the standing it should have started with. Guiding lights: the role of network leaders The people who step up to lead carry a lot — strategic planning, advocacy, facilitation, and the emotional labour of holding space for colleagues. Define the role clearly so it’s a development opportunity, not an open-ended drain. Good leadership of a network is a leadership credential in its own right, and it should be treated as one: named in objectives, recognised in reviews, and supported with training. Leading a network is also a masterclass in inclusive facilitation — the same skills that make running inclusive meetings work, applied to a community rather than an agenda. Join the movement: engaging the wider organisation A network shouldn’t be a closed room. Encourage people to engage at whatever level suits them — joining as a member, turning up to an event, or taking on a leadership role. And make space for allies. The point of a network isn’t to wall people in; it’s to widen the circle of people who understand and act. That’s the same instinct as allyship — holding the rope : showing up, using your standing, and staying when it counts. Executive backing: support from leadership This is the make-or-break factor. Support from the top isn’t a warm word in a town hall — it’s resources, visibility and strategic input . A sponsor with real seniority who turns up, opens doors, defends the budget, and carries the network’s voice into the rooms where decisions are made. “A network without a sponsor is a campaign without a megaphone. The energy is real, but it can’t reach the rooms where things actually change.” — Joanne Lockwood Inclusion doesn’t just happen — it’s designed, resourced and led. A network is one of the clearest places that truth shows up. Metrics matter: measuring success If you can’t see whether a network is working, you can’t protect it when budgets tighten. Agree a small set of meaningful indicators up front: membership growth, engagement levels, and — crucially — impact on business goals and on the experience of the people the network exists to serve. Measure what matters, not just what’s easy to count. Stronger together: cross-network collaboration Identity isn’t single-file, and neither are people. Encourage networks to work together — a joint event, a shared campaign, a combined response to a policy change. Collaboration across groups widens reach, reflects the reality that people hold many identities at once, and stops any one network being siloed as “their issue” rather than everyone’s. Funding the mission: budgeting Goodwill is not a budget line. If you want events, speaker sessions, training and community outreach, you have to fund them. A network expected to deliver value on nothing but evenings and weekends is being set up to fail — and is being told, plainly, where it sits in the order of priorities. Provide a real budget and a simple way to draw on it. Prepared to lead: training network leaders Don’t assume the people who volunteer already have everything they need. Offer training and development — facilitation, influencing, wellbeing boundaries, working with sponsors — so leaders are equipped rather than thrown in. It’s an investment that pays back twice: in stronger networks, and in capable people who go on to lead elsewhere in the organisation. Aligning with strategy The most resilient networks are woven into how the business thinks, not bolted on beside it. Show how a network contributes to strategy — insight into diverse markets, sharper recruitment, better retention — and it stops being seen as a cost and starts being seen as an asset. That’s the position you want it in when the difficult conversations about money and time come round. The pitfalls to avoid Most failing networks fail in the same few ways. Name them so you can design them out: Tokenism. A network that’s consulted and then ignored does more harm than no network at all. Give it standing, or don’t pretend. Unpaid labour. Treating leadership as a free extra on top of the day job burns good people out and signals that inclusion is optional. Recognise and resource the time. No mandate. A logo without a seat at the table is decoration. The network needs the authority to influence, not just to comment. Get those three right and most other problems become solvable. Get them wrong and the best intentions in the world won’t save the network. Where to start This is the work Joanne does with leaders and teams: helping organisations design networks that have a real mandate, supporting sponsors to sponsor well, and turning enthusiasm into something sustainable. Explore the Inclusive Culture & Belonging topic, or hear inclusion explored on the Inclusion Bites podcast . ## Common questions { Q: 'What is the difference between an employee resource group and a staff network?', A: 'In practice the two terms describe the same thing: a voluntary, employee-led group built around a shared identity or experience — and open to allies. “Employee resource group” (ERG) is the more common term in North America; “staff network” is used more in the UK. What matters isn’t the label but the design: a clear purpose, a real mandate, and proper backing from the organisation.', }, { Q: 'Should running a staff network be unpaid, on top of someone’s day job?', A: 'No. Leading a network is real work — planning, facilitation, advocacy and emotional labour — and treating it as a free extra is one of the fastest ways to burn people out and signal that inclusion is an afterthought. Good organisations recognise the time, protect it in workloads, build it into objectives and development, and resource it with a budget. If you want the value, fund the work.', }, { Q: 'How do you stop a staff network becoming tokenistic?', A: 'Give it a genuine mandate, not just a logo. That means a sponsor with real seniority, a seat where decisions are made, a budget, and a feedback loop where what the network raises actually changes something. A network that is consulted and then ignored does more harm than no network at all — so the test is simple: does it have the standing to influence the business, or is it there for the photo?', }, --- ### Including Colleagues with Sensory Impairments at Work https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/sensory-impairment-at-work Roughly two million people in the UK live with sight loss, and around one in five adults are Deaf or have some degree of hearing loss. Add differences in touch, taste and smell and the picture is clear: sensory difference is ordinary, and it is almost certainly already present in your team — whether or not anyone has told you. The question is never “do we have anyone like that?” but “have we built a place where people don’t have to keep asking to be included?” Sensing the need Start by recognising the range. Sensory impairments can affect sight, hearing, touch, taste and smell, shaping how people move through daily activities and how easily they reach information. Few people fit a tidy label, and many don’t describe themselves as “impaired” at all — a point of dignity worth holding onto. The job of an inclusive workplace is to design for that range from the start, so that access is the default rather than a favour. “Recognise that sensory impairments can affect sight, hearing, touch, taste and smell — impacting daily activities and access to information.” — Sensory Impairment flashcards, SEE Change Happen The stakes here are national in scale. In the government’s most recent data, 52.8% of disabled people were in employment against 82.5% of non-disabled people — a disability employment gap of 29.7 percentage points that widened year on year. Sensory impairment sits inside that gap, and much of it is not about capability at all: it is about environments and information designed as though everyone sees and hears the same way. Design for the range and you do not just include colleagues — you reach talent the rest of the market is quietly turning away. (Dated sources on my facts & figures page.) Clear paths to understanding The most powerful habit you can build is simple: never rely on a single channel. Use multiple communication methods — visual, auditory and tactile — so that everyone can receive and understand what’s being shared. Caption your videos and meetings, describe what’s on the slide out loud, send the agenda and key documents in advance, and read out anything you point to on a screen. This is exactly the spirit of inclusion by design : build the access in, rather than bolting it on when someone is forced to ask. Tech tools for accessibility Assistive technology removes barriers quietly and well — screen readers, magnification, Braille displays, hearing aids, induction loops and live captioning all open up information and spaces. Your part is mostly to make sure your own materials play nicely with it: tag documents properly, add alt text to images, structure headings so a screen reader can navigate them, and never trap information inside an inaccessible PDF or a video with no transcript. Good accessibility is invisible when it works. Barriers begone Physical space matters just as much as digital. Make sure rooms and routes are genuinely usable: tactile signs, audible signals, clear and unobstructed pathways, good lighting, and step-free access where possible. A trailing cable, a glass door with no contrast strip, or a fire-exit sign no one can hear announced are small things that become real obstacles. Walk the building as if your usual senses weren’t doing all the work, and you’ll spot them. Comfort zones Sensory-friendly environments help far more people than you might expect. Control noise levels, lighting and visual clutter so that those with sensory sensitivities — and plenty of colleagues besides — can concentrate and feel comfortable. Quiet spaces, dimmable lighting and a calmer acoustic aren’t luxuries; they’re part of a workplace that works for human nervous systems. You’ll find the same thinking running through neuroinclusion at work . “Create sensory-friendly environments by controlling noise levels, lighting and visual clutter to accommodate sensory sensitivities.” — Sensory Impairment flashcards, SEE Change Happen Safety for all Emergency planning is where inclusion stops being optional. Build provisions into your protocols that consider colleagues with sensory differences — visual alarms as well as audible ones, vibrating alerts, personal evacuation plans, and a buddy system so no one is left guessing in a crisis. Ask yourself plainly: if the alarm sounds and a colleague can’t hear it, how do they know to leave? Then make sure there’s a real answer. Signs of respect For meetings and events, provide sign language interpreters or captioning where colleagues need them — and book them early, not as an afterthought. Send materials ahead so an interpreter can prepare, position speakers so faces are well lit and visible for lip-reading, and one voice at a time so captions and interpreters can keep up. These are the same habits that make any meeting more inclusive for everyone in the room. Touch to inform Where it helps, make Braille or tactile versions of documents and signage available, and offer large print and high-contrast formats as standard. Not everyone with sight loss reads Braille, so always ask which format works — accessible-format documents, audio versions and well-structured digital files often matter most day to day. Include, not isolate Inclusion isn’t only about access to information; it’s about belonging. Make sure social activities, away-days and celebrations are accessible too, so colleagues aren’t quietly left out of the moments where teams actually bond. Choose venues you’ve checked, share details in advance, and ask people what they need rather than assuming. This is equity, not equality in practice — giving people what they each need to take part fully. Everyone’s insight Train for confidence, not pity. Help staff understand sensory differences and how to offer support well — most awkwardness comes from not knowing what to do. Adapt the workstation. Tailor equipment, software and set-up to the individual; comfort and productivity rise together. Build feedback in. Create easy ways for people to tell you what’s working and what isn’t, then act on it — accessibility improves through listening. Know the rights. Understand and uphold the legal duties to make reasonable adjustments; treat them as a floor, not a ceiling. Normalise, don’t stigmatise. Reduce stigma through everyday education and positive representation, so disclosing a need feels safe. Normalise, not stigmatise The thread running through all of this is dignity. When access is designed in, people don’t have to out themselves to take part, ask for the bare minimum, or feel like a problem to be solved. That’s the workplace Joanne helps leaders and teams build — one where sensory difference is simply part of being human, and inclusion is the default setting. Explore the Inclusive Culture & Belonging topic, or hear these themes explored on the Inclusion Bites podcast . ## Common questions { Q: 'What does “sensory impairment” actually cover at work?', A: 'Sensory impairment is an umbrella term for differences that affect the senses — most often sight and hearing, but also touch, taste and smell. Some people have lived with a sensory difference all their lives; others acquire one over time. Many sit on a spectrum rather than at an absolute. At work, the point isn’t to label people but to recognise the need: people receive and share information in different ways, and inclusive workplaces design for that range.', }, { Q: 'Should I say “hearing impaired” or “Deaf”?', A: 'Follow the person’s lead. Many people in the Deaf community use a capital “D” to signal a cultural and linguistic identity built around sign language, and would not describe themselves as “impaired” at all. Others prefer “hard of hearing”, “deafened”, or “person with hearing loss”. The same goes for sight: some say “blind”, others “partially sighted”, “low vision” or “person with sight loss”. Ask, listen, and use the words people use about themselves.', }, { Q: 'What is the single most useful adjustment I can make?', A: 'Offer information in more than one form. A clear path to understanding — visual, spoken and written — means people aren’t forced to rely on the one channel that works least well for them. Add captions to videos and meetings, describe what’s on screen, send agendas in advance, and check colour contrast and font size. Most of these cost nothing, help everyone, and remove the need for anyone to ask to be accommodated.', }, --- ### Communicating Across Cultures at Work https://joannelockwood.co.uk/guides/communicating-across-cultures Most cross-cultural friction at work isn’t about a clash of values. It’s about a clash of defaults — how direct we are, how much we read into a pause, which jokes we assume everyone shares. Two people can mean exactly the same thing and still walk away misreading each other. The good news: you don’t fix this by memorising a rulebook of customs. You fix it with curiosity and humility — what Joanne Lockwood calls cultural intelligence . A health warning before we start: every pattern below is a tendency, not a rule . Cultures shape how people are likely to communicate; they never tell you how the person in front of you actually does. Treat these as questions to hold lightly, not boxes to put people in. Context is key Some communication is low-context : the meaning is in the words, people say what they mean, and being explicit is a courtesy. Some is high-context : much of the meaning lives in the relationship, the setting, the tone and what is politely left unsaid. A low-context colleague hears “we’ll see” as an open door; a high-context colleague may have just said a very clear no. Recognise which world a message is coming from before you decide what it means. “Context is key. Recognise the importance of understanding the cultural contexts from which people are communicating to better interpret their messages — and respond appropriately.” — Multicultural Communications, SEE Change Happen Assume less, ask more The fastest route to a misread is a confident assumption. When something puzzles you about how a colleague behaves, communicates or decides, resist the urge to explain it to yourself with their background. Ask an open question instead: “Help me understand how you’d prefer to handle this,” or “What works best for you here?” Assuming less and asking more turns a guess into a genuine exchange — and it’s the heart of agreeing to understand . Listen with purpose Active listening matters everywhere, but across cultures it does double duty. You’re listening for the point — and also for tone, pacing and the nonverbal cues that carry meaning the words don’t. Listen to understand the other person’s point of view, not to queue up your reply. Often the most useful thing you can do is slow down and leave a beat of silence, so people who compose before they speak have room to land their thought. Words matter: idioms and humour that don’t travel “Let’s park that,” “ballpark figure,” “knock it out of the park” — sport, weather and school-playground idioms are invisible to those who grew up with them and baffling to everyone else. Humour is riskier still: irony, sarcasm and banter rely on a shared frame that may not be there, and a joke that doesn’t land can quietly cost you trust. Use language that is respectful and appropriate for the context, and lean towards plain, literal phrasing when you want to be sure you’re understood. Clarity is a kindness, not a dumbing-down. Beyond words A great deal of communication is nonverbal — eye contact, gesture, personal space, how much animation is read as warmth versus pushiness. These cues vary widely, and they can shift the meaning of a message before a single word is weighed. Notice your own habits as much as other people’s; the aim isn’t to police body language but to hold your interpretations loosely when the signals are unfamiliar. Adapt and succeed Communicating well across cultures isn’t about having one polished style — it’s about flexing. Sometimes that means being more direct than feels natural; sometimes more formal, warmer or more patient. Flexing your style to meet someone where they are isn’t losing your authenticity; it’s extending the same courtesy you’d hope for in return. The goal is shared understanding, and that’s a thing two people build together. Language inclusion: meeting non-native speakers halfway For colleagues working in a second (or third) language, small habits make an enormous difference. Slow your pace a little. Put key points in writing as well as saying them. Check understanding by inviting people to play the message back, rather than asking the closed “does that make sense?” Above all, never mistake an accent, a pause or a typo for a lack of ability — encouraging language learning is generous, but the burden of being understood is shared, not theirs alone. Clarify to connect, and build trust When a misunderstanding surfaces — and it will — clarify intentions and restate the message rather than assuming bad faith. Most cross-cultural muddles are honest, and naming them gently dissolves them. Do this consistently and you build the thing that actually transcends culture: trust. Trust is the universal foundation, and it’s earned through respectful, reliable communication far more than through any clever piece of cultural knowledge. “Approach cultural interactions with humility, acknowledging that you are always learning and may not fully understand every cultural nuance.” — Multicultural Communications, SEE Change Happen Always a student This is the through-line. You will never memorise enough customs to cover every colleague, client and team — and you don’t need to. What you need is to stay a student: curious, humble, willing to be corrected and quick to ask. That’s cultural intelligence in practice, and it travels everywhere. Want a quick read on where you’re strong and where you could stretch? Try the Cultural Intelligence self-check , or build the wider habit with conscious inclusion . ## Common questions { Q: 'What is the difference between high-context and low-context communication?', A: 'In low-context communication, meaning lives mostly in the words themselves — people say what they mean and value being explicit. In high-context communication, much of the meaning lives in the situation, the relationship, tone and what is left unsaid. Neither is right or wrong; they are tendencies, and most people move between them. Trouble starts when a low-context speaker reads silence as agreement, or a high-context speaker reads bluntness as rudeness. Naming the difference out loud usually clears it.', }, { Q: 'How do I make my communication more inclusive for non-native English speakers?', A: 'Slow down a little, favour plain words over slang and idiom, and check understanding by inviting people to play the message back rather than asking “does that make sense?”. Put key points in writing as well as saying them, leave space in meetings for people who compose before they speak, and never mistake an accent or a pause for a lack of competence. The goal is to remove friction, not to ask anyone to perform.', }, { Q: 'Do I need to memorise the customs of every culture I work with?', A: 'No — and you couldn’t if you tried. Joanne Lockwood frames this as cultural intelligence: curiosity and humility rather than a memorised rulebook. Treat cultural patterns as tendencies, not rules about individuals. Assume less, ask more, listen with purpose, and stay a student. A genuine question lands far better than a half-remembered custom applied to the wrong person.', }, ## Self-checks — free two-minute diagnostics (https://joannelockwood.co.uk/diagnostics) ### Am I an active or passive ally? A two-minute, honest self-check on your allyship across all difference — race, gender, disability, LGBTQ+, age, class, faith, neurodiversity — built around the bystander effect and the gap between meaning well and actually doing something. https://joannelockwood.co.uk/diagnostics/allyship ### Do you feel safe — and like you belong? A two-minute self-check across seven conditions for psychological safety and belonging — measured where four proven models intersect. https://joannelockwood.co.uk/diagnostics/psychological-safety-belonging ### Do you use AI responsibly and inclusively? A two-minute self-check on how responsibly and inclusively you use AI day to day — across the six places it matters most, from spotting bias to keeping people's dignity intact. https://joannelockwood.co.uk/diagnostics/ai-inclusion ### How confident are you with inclusive language? A two-minute self-check on your confidence and skill with inclusive language — across the six places it shows up most, from pronouns to repairing a slip-up. https://joannelockwood.co.uk/diagnostics/inclusive-language-confidence ### How culturally intelligent are you? A two-minute self-check on your cultural intelligence — your curiosity, your knowledge, and how well you actually adapt and bridge across difference. https://joannelockwood.co.uk/diagnostics/cultural-intelligence ### How emotionally intelligent are you? A two-minute self-check on your emotional intelligence — how well you notice and steady your own emotions, and read and respond to everyone else's. https://joannelockwood.co.uk/diagnostics/emotional-intelligence ### How neuroinclusive are you? A two-minute self-check on how well you include and get the best from neurodivergent colleagues — across the six places it shows up most, from sensory environment to psychological safety. https://joannelockwood.co.uk/diagnostics/neuroinclusion ### How well do you handle challenging conversations? A two-minute self-check on how you handle the conversations most people avoid — feedback, conflict, calling-in, disagreement and hard truths — across the six things that make or break them. https://joannelockwood.co.uk/diagnostics/challenging-conversations ### What kind of hirer are you? A two-minute self-check on how inclusively you hire — across the six stages where talent quietly leaks, from attraction to onboarding. Answer as a hiring manager, recruiter or people leader. https://joannelockwood.co.uk/diagnostics/inclusive-recruitment ### What kind of leader are you? A two-minute self-check across the six C's of inclusive leadership — Commitment, Courage, Cognizance, Curiosity, Cultural intelligence and Collaboration — revealing your leadership style and how inclusively you really lead. https://joannelockwood.co.uk/diagnostics/inclusive-leadership ### What kind of mentor are you? A two-minute, honest reflection on the kind of mentor you are — across the six things mentoring really asks of you, from listening to letting go. https://joannelockwood.co.uk/diagnostics/mentoring ### What kind of trans ally are you? A two-minute, personal self-check on the kind of trans ally you are right now — across the six places allyship shows up, from understanding the basics to holding the rope over time. https://joannelockwood.co.uk/diagnostics/trans-ally ### Where do you stand on the AI spectrum? A two-minute self-check on where you personally stand with AI — not whether you use it well at work, but how you relate to it: how far you've leaned in, how hard you question it, and whether you've ever turned it on yourself. https://joannelockwood.co.uk/diagnostics/ai-spectrum ## Fees (https://joannelockwood.co.uk/rates-fees) - Keynote (virtual): from £3,000 - Keynote (in-person, standard): from £3,795 - Keynote (in-person, premium): from £4,995 - Workshop: from £1,995 - Fireside chat / panel / lunch & learn: from £2,995 - Consulting & advisory: from £400/hour or £2,795/day Indicative and exclude VAT. Concessions are available for charities, community groups and the public sector. Every engagement is scoped through a free discovery call. ## Podcast Inclusion Bites — 240+ episodes on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, YouTube, Substack. https://joannelockwood.co.uk/podcast Invite Joanne onto your podcast: https://joannelockwood.co.uk/podcast-guesting. Be a guest on Inclusion Bites: https://joannelockwood.co.ukhttps://inclusionbites.co.uk/be-a-guest/. ## Frequently asked questions ### What does Joanne Lockwood speak about? Joanne speaks on inclusion, belonging, inclusive leadership and the human side of AI. Her flagship keynote is "AI, Belonging and the Human Future of Work", alongside topics on inclusive culture, inclusive leadership, inclusive recruitment, DEI, and LGBTQIA+ inclusion. See /topics. ### What is the Trans Inclusion Toolkit? The Trans Inclusion Toolkit is an AI-supported governance and risk-management platform created by Joanne Lockwood (a SEE Change Happen product) — underpinned by more than a decade of specialist, subject-matter-expert work in this field, and in wider inclusion and culture consulting. It brings together curated legislation, case law, implementation frameworks and expert analysis — decision frameworks, scenario stress-testing, EqIA/DPIA wizards and the Quinn AI assistant — so UK organisations can make lawful, defensible, trans-positive decisions. Overview at /toolkit; the platform lives at https://thetransinclusiontoolkit.co.uk, including a free 50-question diagnostic. Joanne also works with organisations directly to develop guidance, review policies and support practical, inclusive implementation. ### How much does it cost to book Joanne? Keynotes start from £3,000 for virtual and from £3,795 / £4,995 in person; workshops from £1,995; fireside chats and panels from £2,995; consulting from £400/hour or £2,795/day. Fees exclude VAT, with concessions for charities and the public sector. Full detail at /rates-fees, and every engagement is scoped on a free discovery call. ### How do I book Joanne? Book a free discovery call at /contact, or message +44 7802 215457 on WhatsApp. It is a relaxed conversation about your event and audience, after which Joanne sends a proposal. ### Does Joanne speak virtually and internationally? Yes — Joanne delivers in person, virtually and hybrid, across the UK and internationally, and uses a professional broadcast setup for online events. ### How long is a keynote? Keynotes typically run from 15 to 60 minutes (the flagship AI keynote can flex within that), with workshops available as half- or full-day sessions. Format and timing are tailored to your event. ### What is the "AI, Belonging and the Human Future of Work" keynote about? It explores what AI really means for people — belonging, leadership and the changing nature of work — and how organisations keep humans at the centre. It is grounded in Joanne's hands-on AI work, so it is neither hype nor doom. See /topics/ai-belonging-future-of-work. ### What makes Joanne different from other inclusion speakers? Two decades in IT and STEM before moving into inclusion means Joanne brings a technologist's grounding to the human side of AI, combined with lived experience as a transgender woman and the craft of a Fellow of the Professional Speaking Association. She informs, entertains and moves audiences to act. ### Can Joanne run workshops, panels or fireside chats? Yes. As well as keynotes, Joanne delivers workshops, fireside chats, panels, Q&A sessions and acts as a subject-matter expert — in person, virtual or hybrid. ### What is Inclusion Bites? Inclusion Bites is Joanne's podcast — 240+ episodes of conversations on inclusion, belonging and culture, available on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, YouTube and Substack. See /podcast. ### How do I get on the podcast, or invite Joanne onto mine? To be a guest on Inclusion Bites, apply at /be-a-guest. To invite Joanne onto your podcast or live stream, see /podcast-guesting. ### What AV and technical setup does Joanne need? For in-person events: a lapel or headset microphone, a confidence monitor and a screen suitable for the room. For online: she joins on all major platforms with a broadcast-quality setup. Full detail at /technical-requirements. ### Are there concession rates for charities or the public sector? Yes — concessions are available for charities, community groups and the public sector. Mention it on your discovery call and Joanne will tailor a proposal. ### What is belonging in the workplace? Belonging is the felt experience of being accepted, valued and able to be yourself at work — beyond being merely present or "included". It is where diversity and inclusion efforts ultimately land: people do their best work when they feel they belong. Joanne speaks and runs workshops on building cultures of belonging. ### What's the difference between diversity, inclusion and belonging? Diversity is the mix of people; inclusion is making sure that mix is invited in and can participate; belonging is whether they actually feel they fit and are valued. You can be diverse and even inclusive on paper yet still have people who do not feel they belong — which is why Joanne focuses on belonging as the real measure of culture. ### How do you create a sense of belonging at work? Belonging is built through everyday behaviours, not one-off events: inclusive leadership, psychological safety, fair processes, visible role models and small consistent signals that people are valued. Joanne helps leaders and teams move from intention to these practical habits through keynotes and workshops — see /topics/inclusive-culture-belonging. ### I’m looking for a diversity and inclusion speaker for a conference or event — can I book Joanne? Yes. Joanne Lockwood is a professional diversity, equity and inclusion keynote speaker booked for conferences, corporate events, leadership programmes, awaydays and Pride events across the UK and internationally — in person, virtual or hybrid. Her flagship keynote is “AI, Belonging and the Human Future of Work”, alongside belonging, inclusive leadership, allyship and LGBTQIA+ inclusion. Book a free discovery call at /contact. ### Do you run inclusion workshops or training — are you available as a facilitator or trainer? Yes. As well as keynotes, Joanne facilitates interactive workshops and training on inclusive culture, inclusive leadership, allyship and belonging, as half- or full-day sessions, in person or virtual. See /topics and book a free discovery call at /contact. ### Can I book Joanne as a podcast guest, or to interview on inclusion? Absolutely. Joanne is an experienced and engaging podcast guest and interviewee on inclusion, belonging, transgender and LGBTQIA+ inclusion, allyship, culture change and the human side of AI — and hosts the Inclusion Bites podcast herself. Invite her onto your show or podcast at /podcast-guesting. ### Who can speak on transgender or LGBTQ+ inclusion at our event? Joanne Lockwood speaks on transgender and LGBTQIA+ inclusion from lived experience, with warmth, humour and practicality — for Pride events, conferences and leadership audiences. See /topics/lgbtqia-inclusion-pride and book at /contact. ### We need an AI and inclusion or future-of-work speaker — does Joanne cover that? Yes — Joanne’s flagship keynote “AI, Belonging and the Human Future of Work” explores what AI really means for people, belonging and leadership, grounded in her hands-on AI work, so it is neither hype nor doom. See /topics/ai-belonging-future-of-work and book at /contact. ### How do I leave feedback about a session? If you have your personal link or QR code from a talk, workshop or podcast slot, use that — it ties your feedback to that event and unlocks an optional CPD certificate or certificate of attendance. No link handy? Just go to joannelockwood.co.uk/feedback — six quick questions, no code needed, though it won't unlock a certificate. ## Contact Book a free discovery call at https://joannelockwood.co.uk/contact. Phone / WhatsApp: +44 7802 215457.