Why DEI Had to DIE
The Moment That Stuck
I still remember the first time a graphic, real-time video of a police shooting appeared in our company chat.
I’d logged in expecting a normal workday. Instead, a well-intentioned department director posted the footage with the caption, “Everyone needs to see this.”
Private messages erupted:
“Why are we watching trauma at work?”
“Is viewing this required?”
Hoping to steady the day, I privately suggested we take the clip down and share support resources instead. But the director doubled down. Minutes later, they created a separate Slack channel and, based on assumptions about our identities, added coworkers they believed shared the victim’s background.
None of us had asked for that spotlight. The gesture, though well-meaning, only deepened the discomfort. A few teammates quietly left early. The silence that followed wasn’t reflective—it was strained. Because when empathy is orchestrated, it often loses its meaning.
Later that day, the CEO called to apologize. I told them there was nothing to apologize for—the intent was good, it was the execution that was misaligned. That moment—part tragedy, part what felt like a bad episode of The Office—has stayed with me. It became a symbol of how far DEI had drifted from the people it was meant to serve.
Note: This story has been adapted to protect privacy. The lesson lies in the “why”—not the who.
The Promise That Lost Its Way
In 2020, I felt something I hadn’t felt in years: hope.
I had spent the early 2000s studying inequality in college, unsure if it would ever break into the mainstream. Then, almost overnight, a national reckoning made those classroom conversations part of the corporate playbook. Terms like “justice,” “access,” and “inclusion” weren’t theoretical anymore—they were workplace goals.
I felt seen. Many of us did.
But within a few years, that momentum began to fragment. DEI became a lightning rod. Trainings hardened into templates. People started whispering, then saying aloud, “This doesn’t feel like it’s helping.”
Employees weren’t asking to abandon the work—they were asking for something that felt more human, more honest, and less like a box to check.
When the Room Isn’t Ready
I once worked with a manufacturing company where the workforce had shifted dramatically in just a few years. What had once been a largely white team was now majority Hispanic—and that change, while reflective of broader demographic trends, stirred anxiety among some longtime employees.
The leadership team didn’t want to pit workers against each other. They also didn’t want to pretend those tensions didn’t exist. So we started by listening.
Instead of forcing a generic DEI initiative, we co-created something that met people where they were: an employee resource group rooted in civic engagement and shared values like hard work, family, and community. We talked about voting access. We hosted volunteer days. We found common ground not by erasing difference, but by spotlighting shared purpose.
It worked—not because we used the right buzzwords, but because we asked the right questions and made space for everyone to belong.
And Sometimes, It’s Not Time Yet
On the flip side, I was once brought in by a company eager to launch employee resource groups—starting with one for LGBTQ+ staff. On paper, it sounded like progress. But as I spoke with employees, it was clear the workplace wasn’t ready.
Many LGBTQ+ staffers didn’t feel safe enough to be “out,” let alone to join a group that would spotlight them. Still, leadership pushed ahead. At one point, I was asked to reach out to individuals the client assumed were LGBTQ+ to encourage their involvement. I had to explain that not only was this inappropriate—it risked doing real harm.
Ultimately, the group never launched. But something more important happened: leadership slowed down. They listened. They began investing in the deeper work of culture-building—quietly and consistently—so that maybe, someday, something like an LGBTQ+ ERG could thrive.
That, too, is progress.
From DEI to Belonging
At its worst, DEI became a rigid framework—overly corporate, increasingly politicized, and out of sync with how real people live and work.
Studies from SHRM and Gallup show that when these initiatives are misaligned, they can erode trust and morale. In fact, over half of employees now say traditional diversity programs feel more performative than purposeful.
That doesn’t mean the mission failed. It means we failed to deliver it with care.
So at Social Impact Consults, we’re doing things differently.
We call it Welcoming & Belonging.
It’s not a rebrand—it’s a reset. One rooted in respect, trust, and shared purpose. We build programming that honors the real makeup of your team and focuses less on buzzwords, more on connection.
This work shouldn’t feel like walking a political tightrope.
It should feel like what it is: supporting your people and strengthening your culture. Full stop.
Counsel Culture > Cancel Culture
We don’t need another acronym.
We need more empathy. More humility. More room to grow without shame.
I believe in counsel culture, not cancel culture.
I believe in building workplaces where people can be themselves, ask hard questions, and mess up without fear of exile. And I believe that most leaders want to do the right thing—they just need the right guidance, not a one-size-fits-all playbook.
If you're looking for a way forward that feels more like you—let’s talk.
No fluff. No judgment. Just real support, designed for the real world.
Want to explore Welcoming & Belonging for your workplace?
📅 Book a free 30-minute strategy session with Social Impact Consults.
