This is a really hard post for me to write.
I’ve been putting it off for weeks. Pushing it to the back of my mind.
But it keeps knocking at the door, whispering: “Let me out.”
So here it goes.
I’ve always considered myself a pretty open-minded person.
I grew up in liberal California. Went to a progressive university and post grads.
Surrounded myself with diverse friends. Fought for others’ rights. Hired inclusively. Built welcoming, diverse cultures in the businesses I led.
I mean, for goodness’ sake, I’m gay.
If anyone should understand what it means to be judged for who you are, it’s me.
But about 12 years ago just before I sold my tech-driven ad agency, we had an opening for a client service lead on one of our biggest account.
A wonderful but conservative business, with deep cultural roots.
It was a normal day. One of my directors was running second-round interviews.
She came over after one of them and said:
“There’s someone strong on paper, but I don’t think she’d be a good cultural fit for the client.”
I asked why.
After a bit of humming and hawing, she admitted: the candidate was a trans woman.
Now, if that happened today or even seven years ago, I know exactly what I’d do.
I’d give them a final interview. Coach my director. And reaffirm the values we stand for.
But that’s not what I did.
I nodded along. Let it slide. And quietly agreed to move on without progressing her further.
I often wonder what happened to them.
Where they are now. What kind of career and life they’ve built.
And what the impact was of my silence and my lack of courage.
To that candidate, wherever you are: I’m sorry.
Truly. From the bottom of my heart.
I hope you’re thriving.
And that you’ve met advocates on your journey braver than I was that day.
So what have I learned from this?
That values don’t count unless they cost you something.
That being inclusive isn’t a belief. It’s a decision, often made in a quiet moment when no one’s watching.
And bias doesn’t always come from bad people. It can come from good people under pressure, playing it safe.
And how does this show up in my coaching?
Many of my clients are leaders who want to do the right thing but who are also under pressure to protect what they’ve built.
They’re navigating complexity: clients with opinions, team dynamics, fear of getting it wrong.
We work together to build the muscle to act with integrity.
Not performative, social media-friendly integrity.
But the quiet, consistent kind that takes practice.
The kind that doesn’t need a Pride logo to make a stand.
If you’re a leader and this resonates, I’d love to hear from you.
To reflect on where we’ve failed and how we get better.
Or maybe just to say:
You’re not alone in trying to do the work and in sometimes getting it wrong.