What if, instead of approaching DEI as a set of policies or programs, we reframed it as a call to basic human decency? A concept I’ve come to call DEIcency.
It’s well known that DEI stands for diversity, equity, and inclusion. But I challenge you to look beyond the acronym. Move past the corporate training sessions, the templated mission statements, and the performative metrics. Instead, let’s focus on the values that lie at the heart of this work: compassion, empathy, curiosity, and mutual respect. These are not political stances; they’re deeply human values. They’re universal. Or at least, they should be.
And yet, the term DEI has become increasingly polarizing. We see it in budget decisions, in legislation, in headlines: DEI programs being defunded, dismantled, or dismissed. The moment those three letters enter the conversation, emotions can flare. Walls go up. People shut down.
Why? I think it often comes down to a main driver: fear. Fear of change. Fear of saying the wrong thing. Fear of loss — of power, of status, of identity. Fear of being uncomfortable or being misunderstood. Fear is one of the most powerful motivators in the human psyche, and unfortunately, one of the most destructive as well. Fear can cause us to freeze before we have all the information. It can induce a logic-lacking panic that leaves wreckage in its wake.
Labels can be powerful tools for visibility, validation, and belonging. They can also be double-edged swords. While they can create safety and solidarity, they can just as easily reinforce division, exclusion, and hierarchy, especially when wielded without nuance.
Take employee resource groups (ERGs), for example. Their intention is commendable: a safe space to provide community and support for underrepresented groups. But in some environments, they can unintentionally become silos. Intersectionality — recognizing the complexity of overlapping identities — is critical to avoid this.
Personally, I’ve had to navigate labels in my own life. I am a non-Hispanic Latina. If that confuses you, I get it. It confuses me too. For seven years, I was in a committed relationship with a woman. Today, I’m married to a man. People have asked me how I identify, and honestly, I’ve never felt like any one term fully captures me. I’m not just queer. I am who I am. I’m not defined by a single chapter of my story. For me, that’s the heart of DEIcency: recognizing that we are all more than any one label or demographic, and yet we are wholly human.
We need to expand our definition of diversity. It’s not limited to race, gender, sexuality, or disability. Diversity is about the variety of human experiences, thought processes, problem-solving styles, and lived realities.
I often use a military metaphor to illustrate this: In battle, success depends on more than just strength. You need sharpshooters, medics, strategists, engineers, and communicators. Each role is vital. Each perspective matters. That’s what makes the mission successful and survivable. That’s what diversity really looks like in practice.
This kind of diversity exists all around us, all the time. In our teams. In our families. In our friend groups. We just have to choose to see it and value it.
People often ask, “Where do I start?” The answer, in my view, is simple but somehow not easy. It starts with self-awareness.
Pause and reflect: Why am I reacting this way? What assumptions am I making? What story am I telling myself about this person?
Those moments of honest self-inquiry are powerful. They’re also rare.
I remember a turning point in my own journey. A new team member joined our consulting firm. He came from a different career background, and the transition into the world of health IT consulting wasn’t seamless. Frankly, I was frustrated. I felt like he just wasn’t getting it, and I questioned whether he was the right fit. Then a close friend and colleague said something that stopped me in my tracks “Bridget, this is an opportunity to embrace diversity.” That sentence hit me harder than any DEI training ever could.
In that moment, I realized I was judging him through the lens of my own comfort zone. I expected him to immediately understand the nuances of our work culture despite having never operated in it before. I wasn’t inclusive. I was impatient. So, I changed course. I leaned in. I gave him feedback, and I also gave support. At one point, I gave him some pretty harsh constructive criticism on a project. But I also made sure he knew it was because I saw great potential in him.
That moment opened a door between us. We started having real, vulnerable conversations. We built trust. We created space for growth on both sides. With no bearing on demographics or traditional DEI metrics, my experience working with this person has become one of my most powerful lessons in inclusive leadership. His perspective was different from mine, and that difference had great value. I didn’t need a global initiative to practice DEI, I just needed a shift in mindset, a moment of empathy, and the willingness to show up differently.
DEI is not just a strategy. It’s a mindset. A posture. A daily practice.
Too often, we only rally around decency when something breaks, when someone is harmed, or a crisis forces our attention. But what if we didn’t wait for a fire to begin caring about fire prevention? What if we practiced care before things fell apart?
That’s what DEIcency is about. Starting small and being curious. It’s about choosing to be decent, even when it's inconvenient. Because when we do that, when we truly see each other, listen to each other, and show up for each other, we no longer need to “do” DEI. We live it. And in doing so, we create workplaces and communities that are not just inclusive, but truly human.
So, the next time you hear “DEI,” I invite you to replace it, at least for a moment, with DEIcency. And then ask yourself: Am I showing up with decency today?
Self-awareness: that’s where the real change begins.
Learn more about diversity, equity, and inclusion at Cardamom.