by admin | Mar 31, 2026 | Inside the Work Blog
There’s a growing narrative that EDI training doesn’t work.
I hear it often:
“It’s performative.”
“It doesn’t change anything.”
“People attend and then go back to doing the same things.”
In some cases, that critique is warranted.
But I don’t think it’s telling us what we think it is.
Because the problem is not learning.
And it’s not training.
The problem is what we expect training to do on its own.
In the 20 years I have spent designing and facilitating EDI-centred learning across different environments, I’ve seen learning land in very different ways.
Not because the content was fundamentally different. But because the conditions around the learning were.
Most EDI training is asked to do too much – in isolation.
We ask a workshop, a course, or a learning series to shift deeply held beliefs, build new skills, change behaviour, reshape culture, and produce measurable outcomes. Often within a few hours.
We ask training to do what organizations are unwilling to design for.
And when that doesn’t happen, we conclude: “Training doesn’t work.”
But that’s not a failure of learning.
It’s a failure of design.
In most areas of organizational life, we don’t treat training as a standalone solution.
We don’t expect someone to become a strong manager after one workshop.
Or a confident driver after one lesson.
Or physically stronger after a single workout.
In most areas, we understand that training is part of a system.
Training is paired with practice, embedded in process, and reinforced over time.
EDI is one of the few areas where we compress all of that into a single intervention—and then question its effectiveness.
At its best, learning creates shared language, awareness of patterns, recognition of bias and inequity, and initial shifts in perspective.
These are not small things. They are necessary conditions for change.
But they are not sufficient on their own.
Learning opens the door. It does not walk people through it.
The gap isn’t in the learning itself.
It’s in what happens next.
In many organizations, there is little structured opportunity to practice new skills, or to integrate learning into decision-making processes, or to apply what was learned.
So people return to environments where existing norms remain unchanged, risk remains uneven, and new behaviours are unsupported.
Under those conditions, it’s not surprising that learning doesn’t translate into action.
I’ve also seen the opposite.
In one context, we shifted from delivering a single training session on equitable hiring to designing a more scaffolded approach. The initial learning still focused on awareness — bias, systemic barriers, and how inequities show up in hiring processes.
But we didn’t stop there.
We introduced structured evaluation criteria and scoring tools, guided panel deliberation practices, concrete prompts to interrupt bias in real time, and expectations for how decisions would be documented and reviewed.
Leaders weren’t just asked to understand bias.
They were supported in practicing how to interrupt it inside actual hiring decisions.
Ongoing peer support through a community of practice provided further opportunity to build skills and confidence in a collegial setting.
Over time, the conversations in hiring panels changed.
Not perfectly.
But noticeably.
Language became more specific. Some decisions were more clearly tied to criteria.
There was greater consistency in how candidates were evaluated.
The learning didn’t create the change on its own. It made different decisions possible.
There’s another layer that often gets missed.
Awareness does not automatically translate into skill.
Understanding bias is not the same as interrupting it in a heated discussion, navigating it in a performance conversation, or responding when harm is named.
Those are practices.
And practices require rehearsal, feedback, iteration, and time.
Without that, learning stays conceptual.
Even with skill, change doesn’t sustain without accountability.
Not punitive accountability.
Structural accountability.
Where expectations are clear, processes support equitable decisions, leaders are responsible for how they act under pressure, and outcomes are examined over time.
Especially in moments where speed, risk, and scrutiny are high.
Without this, organizations rely on individual motivation.
And motivation is not a system.
So when we say:
“EDI training doesn’t work”
What we may actually be seeing is learning without scaffolding, skill-building without practice, pivots without capacity-building.
Training, on its own, was never designed to carry that weight.
This is not a critique of training. It’s a call to design beyond it.
I don’t think we need less EDI learning. I think we need to stop asking it to do work the system isn’t designed to support.
Because training doesn’t fail in a vacuum.
It fails when it’s expected to compensate for systems that remain unchanged.
When learning, skill-building, and accountability are aligned, change becomes possible.
Not immediate.
Not simple.
But real.
The question isn’t whether training works.
It’s whether we’ve built anything around it that allows it to.
-sd
by admin | Mar 22, 2026 | Inside the Work Blog
Being Heard Is Not the Same as Having Influence
“Let’s make sure everyone has a chance to weigh in before we decide.”
It sounds collaborative. It often creates confusion.
In many decision-making processes, leaders feel pulled between two pressures:
- Move efficiently.
- Or make space for everyone’s voice.
When that tension isn’t named clearly, it tends to produce one of two outcomes.
- Decisions are made quickly, with limited input.
- Or processes expand, trying to accommodate every perspective — and stall under the weight of consensus.
Neither approach works particularly well.
But what’s often missing is a more precise distinction.
People are not always asking for influence over the outcome. Often, they are asking for space to express, process, and be heard.
That distinction matters.
The Space to Speak Is Not the Same as the Power to Decide
In a recent conversation with a colleague, Leticia Pamela Garcia, we were reflecting on how people show up in decision-making processes.
What she named stayed with me. People often want space to:
- name concerns
- test their thinking out loud
- express frustration or uncertainty
- feel that their perspective is acknowledged
This can sometimes look like venting. And that can make leaders uneasy.
There’s a fear that opening space for expression will:
- derail the process
- escalate tension
- lead to unproductive conversation
- or create pressure to accommodate every perspective
So the instinct is often to tighten the process. Move quickly. Limit input. Contain the conversation.
But when that space is removed entirely, something else happens.
People don’t stop having reactions. They just move them elsewhere. Into side conversations. Into private messages. Into interpretations about what the decision really means.
The absence of space doesn’t eliminate tension. It relocates it.
A Familiar Scenario
Consider a team navigating a change in how work will be distributed.
Leadership has already determined that a shift is necessary due to workload and budget constraints. The decision to change direction is not fully open.
But how the change is implemented still has some flexibility.
A meeting is held to discuss the transition. At first, people are cautious. Then someone names a concern: “I’m worried this is going to increase workload for a few of us who are already stretched.”
Another person adds: “It feels like decisions like this keep getting made without fully understanding what’s happening on the ground.”
The tone in the room shifts. There’s frustration. Some defensiveness. A few people go quiet.
This is often the moment leaders feel the pull to regain control.
To move the conversation forward quickly. To resolve the tension. To clarify the decision and close the discussion. Or, on the other side, to open the conversation so widely that it becomes unclear how a decision will ever be made.
But there is another way to hold the moment. A leader might say:
“I want to pause here. I’m hearing some real concerns about workload and how decisions are landing.”
And then:
“This decision to shift direction is set — but how we implement it is something we can still shape together. I want to make sure we hear what’s important before we move forward.”
The tension doesn’t disappear. But it becomes workable.
People continue to share. Not because they expect to control the outcome. But because the space to speak has been made explicit.
And the boundaries of the decision have been made clear.
This is the distinction: People can be invited into the conversation without being responsible for the decision.
Structure Makes Space Possible
This is where structure becomes critical.
Not structure as control. But structure as container. Clear decision-making processes can hold both:
- space for diverse perspectives
- clarity about how decisions will ultimately be made
This might sound like:
“This is a space to surface perspectives and concerns. Not all input will shape the final decision, but it will inform how we think about it.”
Or:
“I want to create room to hear how this is landing. The decision parameters are here — and your input will help us understand impact.”
Without this clarity, people assume that being invited to speak means being invited to decide.
With it, people can engage more honestly.
When Tension Is a Signal, Not a Problem
There’s another subtle shift here.
When leaders create space for people to speak openly, something often happens.
More tension surfaces. More disagreement becomes visible. More emotion enters the room.
This can feel like the process is breaking down. In many cases, it’s the opposite.
It can be a sign that psychological safety is increasing.
People are testing whether it is actually safe to:
- disagree
- name impact
- express uncertainty
- surface competing perspectives
That doesn’t mean every expression needs to be resolved in the moment. But it does mean something important is happening.
The system is becoming more visible.
The Leadership Tension
The challenge for leaders is not choosing between: Speed or Consensus
It’s holding something more precise: Creating space for people to be heard while maintaining clarity about how decisions will be made
That requires:
- naming the structure of the process
- distinguishing between input and influence
- allowing space for expression without collapsing into indecision
- recognizing that not all tension needs to be resolved before moving forward
This is not about unstructured venting or unproductive escalation. It’s about creating conditions where people can engage honestly without needing to control the outcome.
A Small Practice
Before entering a decision-making process, take a moment to clarify:
- What is the purpose of this conversation?
- Where does input shape the decision — and where does it not?
- How will I create space for people to express their perspectives?
- What will I do if tension or disagreement surfaces?
You can also name this directly: “This is a space to be heard. It’s not a space where every perspective will determine the outcome.”
Clarity like this does two things.
- It creates permission to speak.
- And it creates stability around the decision.
People don’t always need agreement.
But they do need to know that their perspective can exist in the room without being ignored or overdetermined.
That’s often where trust begins.
-sd
