Fit in vs. belong
I remember going to a small party when I was in middle school. It was one of those parent-organized celebrations, or I’m sure I wouldn’t have been invited. When I arrived, I noticed that every boy in the place was wearing a short-sleeved button down shirt and a knit tie. Every boy except for me, that is. To my embarrassment, I’d worn a polo shirt and no tie. Sensing my shame, a classmate tried to make me feel better by pointing out that I had on some nice pants. In my mind, I might as well have been wearing a Chewbacca costume. Even then, I knew the parents of these kids must have coordinated or even gone shopping together. And I was left out.
I wanted desperately to fit in with my peers, when it seemed all I could do was stand out. Again.
The names and faces of that night have long gone from my memory, but I remember the exact outfit (that I wasn’t wearing) decades later. I didn’t fit in.
What I know now is that there’s a big difference between fitting in and belonging. Trying to fit in is a never-ending struggle to conform. It’s an effort to change, to smooth out, to round off aspects of ourselves and how we come across. It’s acknowledging, and surrendering to, a set of group norms that have existed before we arrived and will likely outlast us. It’s marked by a consistent feeling of discomfort.
Belonging isn’t always easy, but it shouldn’t require work. When you belong, in a place or a group or a gathering, you don’t have to do anything. You don’t have to try to be the same as everyone else. You can be different, and you can be you. There can be norms for participating, of course, but conforming to them isn’t uncomfortable or even much of an effort. Belonging is also contagious.
Years ago, I returned to a previous employer for a second stint on the executive team. A few months later, a colleague announced his departure. This came with an invitation to an offsite going away party.
I had good reasons not to go. I have a touch of social anxiety, especially in groups. It would’ve been a late night. It was at a seafood restaurant, and I’d been vegan for nearly 15 years at that point. And wouldn’t it be awkward, celebrating a tenure for which I’d largely been absent?
Against what I thought was my better judgment, I went anyway. And I had an excellent time, almost from the moment I walked in. Several of my colleagues – both new and established – even told me they were glad to see me there.
“These are my people,” I thought to myself. “I belong here.”*
Nowadays, at middle age and knowing much more about myself and the world than I did as a young person, belonging is a physical experience as much as a mental one. When I am in a group or a situation in which I belong, I feel it. My heart rate and breathing slow down, and my posture expands with openness.
Fine tuning one’s self-awareness is a great way to zero in on a feeling of belonging or not-belonging. And of course, I need to check my privilege when I say this. As a member of nearly every dominant group in our society, I know it’s a lot easier for me to talk about belonging when I don’t face the reality of being othered on a regular basis.
Which is where our leaders come in. The leader is responsible for creating a culture of belonging in an organization or on a team. To make sure differences of being are embraced, and differences of opinion are encouraged. To remove barriers to belonging. And to say, in actions or in words, “We see you. We hear you. You belong here.”
Here are a few questions to get you started:
How does belonging align with our other values and goals?
How do we celebrate diversity and inclusion on our team?
How do we handle incidents of bias or discrimination?
How do we empower team members to voice their concerns and suggestions?
How do we involve staff at different levels in making decisions?
How do we celebrate success?
*Confession: even with all of my updated thinking on fitting in vs. belonging, I still have a habit of trying to find out what others are wearing before I go out into a group setting.