RESOURCE SEARCH

Travel is one of the great joys of my life, and I am lucky enough to be able to travel internationally frequently, for work, for pleasure, and sometimes for both. Experiencing people, cultures, and environments different from our own can be life-changing, and I encourage others to take those opportunities when they can. Over the holiday season, I visited my family in Singapore, and decided to take my seven-year-old to various parts of Thailand while we were in the region. I'm thinking about inclusive travel explicitly, particularly as this was the first trip I had to articulate and explain the fact that people live, eat and worship differently in different countries, to my seven-year-old. I explained why it's respectful to keep our voices down (something that doesn't come naturally to my American son) and learn to appreciate others' customs. And that the effort to adapt and learn was worth it over ignorance. (He agreed!) Ruchika at the Wat Arun temple in Bangkok, Thailand. Ruchika is an Indian, brown-skinned woman with short brown hair, wearing an orange dress, red sandals and sunglasses. In the three different cities I visited, I saw beautiful elephant keepsakes everywhere for sale. They’re the national animal of Thailand, and since elephants are also meaningful to my own spiritual tradition, I was excited to bring some home as gifts and souvenirs. We were visiting Chiang Mai, when I came upon a store filled with gorgeous, colorful elephant statues. The fancy box around these keepsakes shared that proceeds went to elephant conservation. I was thinking of buying some, but I hesitated. My work in equity, inclusion, and justice has taught me to ensure that the decisions I make center the voices and interests of communities most negatively impacted by tourism when I travel. And so, I wanted to make sure I was buying responsibly. I passed on making a purchase at that moment, hoping I’d find another opportunity to purchase some equally beautiful elephants. When I got back to the hotel and connected to the Wi-Fi, I looked up the organization that was selling these keepsakes, citing partnerships with huge hotel and lifestyle brands. When I dug a little deeper, I discovered that all the founders were European people; not one person listed on the team identified as Thai. The organization did donate a percentage of proceeds to elephant conservation, as advertised, but I just couldn't look past the fact that no one who was actually Thai was involved in leadership. To be clear: I support elephant conservation fully and enthusiastically. But the discovery about who owned the enterprise brought me some discomfort, and it sparked some reflection on my part. Although international travel can be so exploitative, is there a way to be responsible to those native to the country we are visiting? How do we show respect to a culture that may be different from our own? How can we ensure that our presence is beneficial, not detrimental? Five elephants walking in a line in the river surrounding Elephant Nature Park, Chiang Mai, Thailand. Invest in the local economy, intentionally Tourism is extremely complicated. It can be beneficial economically, but that only works when travelers spend their money intentionally. As our society becomes more global, wealthy foreign investors are often encroaching on local economies, seeking to make money from afar, or as expats. If we want to make tourism mutually beneficial, we have to ask ourselves who our money is going to. Are we putting money back into the community, or are we making someone 10,000 miles away richer? Ensuring that you’re spending responsibly is easier than it sounds, it just takes a little legwork - and intentionality. For example, I was able to find the owners of the elephant keepsakes organization in under 10 minutes with a simple Google search. When I saw that no Thai people were part of the leadership team, I decided not to spend my money there. You can repeat that process anywhere you seek to invest your money. We visited Elephant Nature Park (ENP), an elephant rescue and rehabilitation center run by esteemed Thai elephant rights activist, Saengduean Lek Chailert, the day after I encountered the shop with keepsakes. We had an absolutely incredible experience while contributing to elephant conservation, but we did it in a way that benefited those who call Thailand their home. While many elephant “sanctuaries” in the area claim to benefit elephants, our wonderful guide at ENP told us anywhere that allows tourists to touch, feed, bathe and/or ride elephants does inflict some level of cruelty on these beautiful creatures, to make them compliant. ENP was the only place that only allowed visitors to observe elephants from afar. I also found beautiful elephant keepsakes made by the Thai staff who work there, and bought my elephant souvenirs from there instead of the fancy, European-owned enterprise I encountered the day before. One of my "golden rules" of travel is to maximize choices that benefit local people wherever I go. (Side note: Intentionalist.com has a fantastic list of local businesses in many North American cities so you can spend your money…well, intentionally. I’ve relied on Intentionalist listings when making coffee, dining and other spending choices in Seattle and when traveling domestically). On international travel, this can be as simple as getting your coffee from a local vendor instead of the Starbucks, or buying from a small local shop instead of a big-name department store. A discussion for another day is how in some white, European countries, local, handmade goods are considered artisanal luxury, while the same tradition in formerly-colonized countries and/or engaged in by artisans of color are considered "less than." Here's an article on World Economic Forum about this. Some travelers are intimidated by small local businesses, especially when they don’t speak the language, but I've learned that the cost of letting my fear of not knowing how to communicate has robbed me of spectacular experiences. The best interactions I’ve had while traveling happened because I went off the beaten path, literally. Restaurants, shops, bars, and hotels run by those native to the area are among the most gracious people I’ve ever met. I also try to prioritize staying in locally-owned hotels when possible. Passing by a Temple (Wat) in Bangkok, Thailand at sunset. Respect above all else The old proverb, “When in Rome, do as the Romans do,” is excellent advice for anyone seeking to be a more responsible and ethical traveler. I really try to notice–really notice by keeping my mouth shut and observing keenly-so I can attempt to best follow the customs of the place I'm visiting. You’re a guest in another's home, and it’s crucial to learn and respect the local customs and cultures of your destination. Before you book your trip, take time to research local and national traditions, and follow them. Dress codes, especially in sacred or religious sites, are common all over the world, from Italy to the Maldives to Thailand. Breaking these rules is offensive, and in some countries, could result in hefty fines. Watch out for dress codes elsewhere as well. At the Parthenon, for instance, high heels are banned to avoid damaging the structure. Restrictions on certain foods - like alcohol, beef, or pork - are also common for religious or cultural reasons. Here's where self-awareness is key: if you feel that you will complain about or openly defy cultural norms, opt for a different destination. If, for example, if you prefer to consume alcohol to enjoy a vacation, it's deeply unfair to go to a country where alcohol is scarcely available and complain about it. Make a different choice. Sadly, I've encountered a number of western tourists who complain incessantly to me about dress codes, alcohol bans and/or other traditions. This is the very definition of a traveler that's not inclusive. If you do arrive unprepared or unintentionally cause offense, the best remedy is an apology and changed behavior. Don’t push back: Listen without defensiveness, apologize sincerely, learn and adapt. Further Resources A little research goes a long way, so make sure you’re fully prepared before jetting off on vacation. Here are a few resources to get you started. The Sustainable Travel Handbook Center for Responsible Travel Global Sustainable Tourism Council Travel to Transform: Awaken the Global Citizen in You and Thrive in the Modern World Beyond Guilt Trips: Mindful Travel in an Unequal World Travel is good for us individually and–engaged in responsibly–good for the global community, helping us to become more open, empathetic, tolerant, curious people. It can be beneficial for both the traveler and those whose home is being visited, as long as we remember to be respectable, inclusive and intentionally responsible guests. Click here to subscribe to the newsletter.

I don’t know about you, but I tend to get a little nostalgic in December. I don’t know if it’s the short days or the holiday lights, but as the end of the year approaches, I feel compelled to reflect on the joys and challenges of the past 11 months. This year, I have had much to celebrate, both personally and professionally. And I have found that keeping a practice of joy and celebrating wins is necessary for my mental health because my heart has broken so many times seeing innocent lives lost in Gaza and the rise of hatred against two historically persecuted communities with an abhorrent increase in Islamophobia and antisemitism. 2024 has got to be different. And so, in my attempt to find small moments of joy among so much heartbreak, here are just some of the things I’m grateful for (and gave me joy) in 2023. Please comment with your joys! A New Yorker feature Early in the year, Jodi-Ann Burey and I were featured in the New Yorker in a characteristically beautiful Leslie Jamison exploration, “Why Everyone Feels Like They’re Faking It.” The article examines the dubious rise of “imposter syndrome,” a concept Jodi-Ann and I have pushed back against for years. We wrote our Harvard Business Review piece in 2021, and while the narrative of women’s lack of self-confidence is still widespread, it means a lot that our work to challenge it resonates so strongly. Stylish transformation Authors aren’t usually highlighted for our fashion, so when 425 Magazine wanted me to participate in a style feature, I said “yes,” though I initially wanted to say no! Style provides us with a fun, much-needed outlet for self-expression, but it’s also an underutilized tool for systemic change. Constantly challenging traditional Western standards of fashion, beauty, and art can be a catalyst for leaders to cultivate an inclusive, representative industry for all. Styled for 425 Magazine Uncompete is coming! This summer, I could finally reveal some incredibly exciting news with my community. My third book, Uncompete: Dismantling a Competition Mindset to Unlock Liberation, Opportunity, and Peace, will be published by Penguin Random House’s Viking Books! I’m deep into writing (and will be until mid-next year!), and I can’t wait to share what’s to come. Deals like this don’t happen on their own, and I’m so grateful to those in my circle who encourage, uplift, and believe in me, especially my agent, Maile Beal. Celebrating one year of Inclusion on Purpose Sometimes, 12 months passed by in the blink of an eye, doesn’t it? Inclusion on Purpose feels brand new, but March marked the one-year anniversary of its publication. Magic like that can’t be created without the support of a strong community, and celebrating this book means celebrating my community, too. On March 1st, I gathered with 24 incredible women leaders in Seattle to thank them for what they helped build. We ate, we drank, and I got a little (okay, a lot) emotional. It was an unforgettable, joyful evening that still makes me smile 9 months later. Celebrating the first year of Inclusion on Purpose  and this incredible community of women leaders Amplify July I know how fortunate I am to have a super engaged audience on my social media. It’s a privilege, and this July, I chose to use my platform to boost the signal of some truly brilliant thought leaders. Each weekday in July, I turned over my social media to a different creator (all from underestimated communities), allowing them to share their expertise with my over 50,000 followers. I learned so much from each and every one of them, and I feel honored to be able to amplify important voices, experiences, and conversations. Spreading the word There really is nothing quite as exhilarating as sharing my ideas with an engaged audience, and I am thrilled to have had so many opportunities to do so over the last year. Thank you so much to my audiences at the National Institutes of Health, Toast, Spotify, Columbia University, LinkedIn APAC, TD Bank, Edelman, Spotify, and so many others. Your enthusiastic response and desire to cultivate equity and inclusion in your organizations is what keeps me going. Thank you. Sharing Inclusion on Purpose with an incredible audience at LinkedIn Singapore New adventures This year has been filled with exciting professional successes and new experiences, but none of it holds a candle to the precious time I was able to spend with those I hold most dear. Travel is one of life’s greatest pleasures, and in 2023, I was able to enjoy time with my family in New York, Singapore, Canada, and Italy. Each new adventure brought us closer together, enriching the relationship we have with our global community and each other. Gratitude for the good When I read the news, I’m often reminded of the New Yorker cartoon that says, “My desire to stay informed is currently at odds with my desire to stay sane.”  It’s a tough time in our world, and both experiencing personal hardship and witnessing the suffering of others naturally takes its toll. While I do believe it’s important to not turn away, and especially stay engaged even if you have the privilege to look away, moments of rest and recovery are so important to keep on the good fight. I am so grateful for my community, and take so much joy in the kindness and compassion I see at home and in every corner of the world. Sometimes you have to squint to see it, but it’s there. 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I’ve been reflecting a lot on humility lately. And how often the lack of it emphasizes the hubris (and lack of empathy) that we see leading to horrific decisions. I wonder how more of us can cultivate more humility in our lives? Humility that comes from being fairly incompetent in something, but not giving up until finally, you’re incrementally better. Here’s how I’ve been trying. In early October, I performed a Bollywood dance medley with the amazing Afsaana Dance Company, for the Asian Counseling and Referral Service 50th anniversary gala. (Side note, both, Afsaana and ACRS are amazing organizations and I encourage you to look them up!) With the Afsaana Dance troupe I was once really into Bollywood dancing and would spend much of my time choreographing, rehearsing and performing, all through school and college. Then…life happened. I've been out of practice for over 11 years. So getting back to dance was more humbling than (for example) learning something brand new, especially because I know what “good” looks like. And in this iteration of returning to dance after over a decade, I was so far from “good,” it was painful. I realized my brain is so overwhelmed, I couldn’t remember basic choreography. The brain-to-body connection was even harder to make. I've discovered so much about myself in these last few months of learning, rehearsing, failing and trying again. Basically, I don’t like to be “bad” at something. And the growth mindset I once had as a young professional and early entrepreneur has been replaced by…dareIsay….overconfidence? I realized that I mostly don’t throw my hat into the ring unless I have a fairly high chance of success. There are many reasons for this, including how I was socialized and the higher expectations on women of color professionally (and less room to fail!) But I think it’s so necessary to seek out experiences to be a beginner, or beginner again, as in my case. It required so much humility to be a beginner again in something that once came naturally to me. I had to be humble about what my body could (and in many more cases, couldn’t!) do. And I really, really had to let go of the idea that I could be great at it. As a perfectionist and a highly self-critical person, I had to let a lot of my old habits fall away and make room for a lot of humility and mediocrity. There were so many times I thought I should give up, and times I pushed my body beyond what I thought it was capable of. We often celebrate marathons and triathlons and "Iron Mans" but learning the nuances of Indian dance mudras (hand gestures) gracefully and cultivating the strength it takes to be fully energized for even a 5-minute-dance is also worth celebrating. In adulthood, many of us shy away from challenges we don't "have" to take on. But by being really incompetent at the start and pushing through my ego and humiliation, I was able to grow in ways I couldn't have imagined. Having an amazing guru (our choreographer, Geeta) and an amazing and patient troupe of dancers was also key to keep me on track. You need cheerleaders when you’re going to fail. I realized that in having a few sleepless nights about getting on stage and freezing or tripping, I was hitting a growth curve. I was about to do something I wasn’t that good at, the weakest link among a team of professionals, and I had to be ok with being the underdog. Once I let go of any aspirations of being “great” or delusions of grandeur of being “the best,” I could set small, tangible goals. Like the fact that I needed to practice daily, so I could go from “terrible” to “mediocre.” And that meant making time, actively and consistently. As regular readers will know, I’m constantly struggling with time management. I had to step away from other commitments to focus on rehearsing. I also deliberately rehearsed in front of my seven-year-old. Having him witness me forgetting, failing and getting frustrated with myself was an important teachable moment. As leaders (whether of a team or little humans!), we are told we always need to be unflappable. But it is in the humility of owning up to not knowing or not being great at something, that we can make the biggest impact. Nothing makes me trust a leader more than seeing them commit to getting better and finding the right answers, rather than faking their way through it. That’s when we truly practice leadership. And that’s how we make it ok for those around us to also keep learning. The good news is that the performance went really well and I didn't forget any steps! I had a wonderful time…and I realized I need to get back to being at the beginner level more often. Humility isn’t the most comfortable feeling to navigate in a world that tells us all that we need to be great at everything ALL THE TIME. Social media makes it look like everyone can do everything perfectly well. But the real growth comes from leaning hard into challenges you know you’re going to fail at (safely–both for yourself and others, if I needed to clarify this), and growing from them. I’ll be hanging up my dancing skirt for right now, but can’t wait to get back to it soon! For now, I’m still savoring humble pie. :) What's a new challenge you've taken on recently? Click here to subscribe to the newsletter.

Happy autumn/fall to all who are reading this as the weather cools down and the leaves change colors. This transition is always really hard for me as I leave behind the restfulness of summer (a commitment I’ve been keeping for the past few years is a “quiet August”) and get thrust full speed into “back to _____.” School for my kid being the most hectic among all of the transitions. We also kept falling sick in turns, so I made COVID booster and flu shot appointments as soon as they opened. It can feel frustrating to be “back” to masking and being cautious, but my immunocompromised friends remind me it’s a privilege to have had a respite from it at any time since March 2020. I hope you’ll consider getting the booster if and when you’re able. Anyway, all of this meant my book writing was pretty nonexistent for the first part of September. And I have 70,000 words to deliver in March 2024, so there’s literally no time to waste. So how do I approach a momentous project like this? First, I try to adhere to the rules of Essentialism (doing less)–I try to say “no” to everything that isn’t book-related or in service of me writing the best version of my book. This is probably the hardest part of it all, as a woman of color who has been socialized to always be “helpful” and “never say no.” Second, I try to set small, small goals. View from my kitchen table writing at 6ish AM A successful writing day for me is one hour of getting what was in my early morning brain on the page. It’s rarely beautiful or even coherent, but I believe that for me, my best work is massaged (kneaded? beaten?) out after many edits. I can barely stand to read anything I’ve written until after I’ve had significant space from that initial morning download. It’s imperative I get those words down before the rush of getting a kid to school on time begins, otherwise I mostly have to write the day off (pun unintended) as a non-writing one. But there’s a lot that’s not in my control. Most of all, time to think. The book Who Cooked Adam Smith’s Dinner by Katrine Marçal was a fundamental reminder (among others) of how much the space to think and create expansively is gendered and geared towards privileged, able-bodied, cishet white men and more recently, privileged, able-bodied cishet white women. For the rest of us, it’s snatches of borrowed time, feverish notes scrolled on grocery receipts in between juggling all the plates. I wrote Inclusion on Purpose in lockdown while homeschooling a three-year-old. I gained a chronic backache in return (among other ailments.) Threeish years later, I’m writing Uncompete with a seven-year-old school-going kid with a full social and activity schedule, while also trying to integrate various facets of my life into the mix. Lack of social structures in so many western societies exacerbate this gender gap so much more and I know so many brilliant women who find it absolutely impossible to find the expanse for any creative endeavors. I know I’m struggling with this in writing my next book; it’s not that the ideas aren’t there—it’s just that the first time I have a moment to really explore them ends up being at 3 AM (when it’s dead quiet in the house), but if I’m up to write then, there’s no way I can get a child to school. If there was ever a case to build and reward a collaborative—not competitive society—it’s now. Just as I’m living through the fallout of the latter daily. Anyway, for now, the one hour or so per morning of getting words on the page seems to be working. Sometimes it stretches out to more than that, but my commitment is that one hour. The part I enjoy the most is getting to interview amazing people for the book! I’ll share more about that in future editions. How do you tackle big projects, when time feels tight? How do you make time for creative endeavors? Please send me all the tips! And meanwhile, please keep well and healthy! In solidarity, Click here to subscribe to the newsletter.

After spending the last few years in a whirlwind of activity—working on my upcoming book, organizing #AmplifyJuly, and balancing everything else that comes with being a professional and a mother, I was beyond ready for my month of rest, this August. What I didn’t expect? Struggling to rest. I left for Singapore committed to rest, feeling very inspired by Tricia Hersey and her book, Rest Is Resistance. Tricia’s work “is a pathway to the rest practices needed to collectively build and imagine new worlds as we simultaneously dismantle and deprogram ourselves from the systems that prop up and perpetuate the racial, social, and environmental harm done by white supremacy and extractive capitalism.” Even though I knew that my reluctance to power down stemmed from the ways in which I’ve internalized how much my worth is linked to my ability to work, I found it difficult to decouple myself from this idea in practice. Only after a week or so did I turn the corner and realize how beneficial that quiet was for me to literally power down and just be. Anne Lamott says: “Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes, including you.” This made so much sense to me, and I needed to power down for a few weeks, in my case. During this time, I re-committed to a daily yoga practice, which I’d been out of since before the pandemic. I spent time with family and friends for no other reason than to connect, no other agenda. I didn’t respond to emails. I napped every single afternoon, surrounded by the familiar scent of my mum’s cooking and childhood photos around me. Overall, I realized the true value of rest as a tool of resistance (again, big thanks to Tricia Hersey). This is not to be confused with rest as a way to fuel more productivity, which I’ve generally seen the conversation around rest focus on. I’m talking about rest for the sake of rest. Spending time with my mum, Seema, is the definition of rest and home for me. What happens if we aren’t able to rest? A lack of rest means more of us operate from a place of scarcity and chronic stress. In fact, 48% of employees report having burnout. But another symptom of a lack of rest is the feeding of a scarcity mindset. As Shankar Vedantam says on the Hidden Brain podcast, “When you have scarcity, and it creates a scarcity mindset, it leads you to take certain behaviors which, in the short term, help you manage scarcity but in the long term, only make matters worse.” When we are operating from a place of scarcity, we’re going to have tunnel vision around our immediate needs, and we may also be convinced that there’s not enough to go around. For me, I’ve seen this scarcity mindset result in a lack of collaboration, generosity and compassion, in the workplace and in society. Why is it so difficult to rest? Scarcity is supported by the pillars of white supremacy (as Sahaj Kaur Kohli writes in her blog, “Cultural experiences that reinforce scarcity mindset”), including fear, perfectionism (or the belief that there is only one right way to do things), either/or thinking, individualism, and urgency. These pillars have permeated our culture, which is one of the reasons why for so many of us, when we find ourselves with an opportunity to rest, we’re unable to fully release ourselves to it out of fear of scarcity. In short: we need to keep working or we’ll lose out to someone else. Struggling to rest isn’t a personal shortcoming, it’s a symptom of hundreds of years of conditioning to constantly be productive for systems that weren’t built to benefit historically underestimated communities. The view from a celebratory lunch with my family and friends in Singapore In an act of resistance, I’m aiming to write my next book from a place of abundant rest. A major theme that I’m exploring is how operating from an abundance mindset drives fundamental social change. I can think of no better way to do this than to leave scarcity behind and find moments to genuinely rest. I haven’t found the perfect formula yet, and may never, but the idea is to build a lot of rest into every day and not berate myself if I don’t hit a word count or deadline. I’m setting liberal goals and saying “no” to most new commitments unless they feel in service of the rest I’m trying to cultivate—like coffee with a friend, a yoga class or a walk and ice cream with my child (debatable whether this is “rest” with a high-energy 7-year-old, but you know what I mean! :) ) When we cultivate rest, we are better able to broaden the tunnel vision that a scarcity mindset traps us in. From there, we can be intentional about crafting an abundance mindset, supporting our communities and planning for a future that is mutually beneficial for all of us. How can you find moments of rest this week? Do you find it difficult to rest? When you’re unable to rest, who benefits from your lack of rest? Click here to subscribe to the Inclusion is Leadership letter.

I had the best July EVER! July is a special month for me––it marks the month I moved to Seattle (a decade ago!) and when I first experienced the delight of drip-down-your-chin-juicy peaches at my favorite produce vendor at Pike Place Market (a weekly tradition now in all the years since!) It’s also the month where I officially became a mum, and somehow seven years have passed by. But this July was especially magical because it was #AmplifyJuly. I turned over my social media to elevate amazing creators whose stories we should all know. Some people thanked me for my generosity, but in all honesty, every single day we posted about an amazing writer, speaker, podcaster, entrepreneur and all-round rockstar–people who are making a significant difference in our world–I benefited. I learned so much and found my own mind and heart expanding, and at a time when it’s so easy to lose hope, being reminded we are in community and in solidarity felt more welcome than ever. Look out for regular features on my social media over the next year – and be prepared to continue being seriously inspired! Caption: Me at Penguin Random House’s NYC HQ, loving being surrounded by books. What I’ve Learned About Scarcity and Abundance Many told me that it was extremely uncommon for someone with a decently large social platform to want to use it to elevate others. Someone even said: “Every day? Why not just post about someone else once a month? After all, you have books to sell too!” I believe it’s not because we don’t want to help others, but more often because scarcity rears its ugly head: I worked hard to build my following, why should someone else benefit? If I elevate their book instead of mine, what if their sales outdo my book sales? Nobody shared their platform with me, why should I share mine? I really, really get it. And I’d be lying if I didn’t say all this didn’t cross my mind at some point or another. After all, a campaign like Amplify July takes a lot of time to pull off (more logistics than I ever imagined!) and there were moments I wondered if it was worth having so many members of my team dedicated to uplifting others’ work. But, as I’ve been reflecting on this premise of scarcity and competition in the context of all my work in DEI, it’s become clearer to me: systems of oppression want to foster competition, stir up jealousy, and discourage collaboration with others. We are conditioned by capitalism, racism, the patriarchy, and the systems of oppression that want us to fail—to believe there’s only room for one person, or a small handful, to succeed. And the further you are from the centers of power and privilege the sharper those elbows should be. This can be particularly true in marginalized communities. Here’s the problem—that mentality and approach is hurting and harming us. In many cases, it’s killing us. Most of us are lonelier, more depressed, more disconnected and more financially insecure than any other generation before us. Much of the success that hyper-competition and “working harder than anyone else” promised us…didn’t materialize. Nothing makes my day worse than when a woman of color displays a scarcity mindset with me, because I know firsthand how much more powerful we would both be if we collaborated and approached each other with an abundance mindset—the belief that there’s more than enough room for us all to win. So this July, I shared that I’m writing my next book: “Uncompete: Dismantling a Competition Mindset to Unlock Liberation, Opportunity, and Peace.” I’ll admit: this book that I want to write doesn’t have neat answers. I don’t know, for example, if there’s a straightforward response to: “Does uncompete mean not applying for a promotion that will only go to one person because I’ll be pitted against my favorite coworker by my manager?” I do know that a system that pits people against each other isn’t working. But in the short run, I can’t definitively say, “Don’t aim to be ambitious.” Instead, what I hope this book helps more of us do is ask better questions of ourselves and our communities, rather than operating in the zero-sum game mindset we have been socialized to believe. I hope we investigate deeper: What does success look like for me? Are there different ways to define it than the way I’ve been taught? What is the cost of competition? Is there a better way to live, work and be? My fervent belief is yes, and the answer most likely lies in us intentionally choosing to uncompete. I’ll be spending the next year writing this book, so apologies in advance for my disappearance from normal social life. I’m also taking the rest of August officially off—eating my mum’s cooking in Singapore and snuggling with my baby niece while hanging around the island at my favorite childhood spots, with my own child in tow. You won’t hear from me until September. Wishing you a joyful, restful and peaceful summer month. In solidarity, Click here to subscribe to the Inclusion is Leadership letter.

This June, I returned to Leadership Tomorrow Seattle, where I graduated from their leadership program in 2016. In a surreal turn of events, I was invited to give a speech to the graduating class of 2023! Thank you to Ben Reuler for this photo of me delivering my speech at Leadership Tomorrow’s 2023 graduation! To mark the seven years since my graduation, I shared seven key lessons that I’ve learned from my time at LT and the seven years since. Lesson 1 Relationships matter. Community matters. When I graduated in 2016, I said that your network is your net worth, when I was graduation speaker that year (the first speech I’d ever made in my life!) I was wrong. Your COMMUNITY is your net worth. Networks focus on deliverables and tasks and opportunities, while communities focus on relationships with people. Every relationship that you form and nurture has a significant impact on you and can be the difference between success and loneliness. I’ve learned to never underestimate the power of investing in community. Lesson 2 Inclusion is the #1 Leadership trait today, tomorrow and forever. Leadership Tomorrow taught me how to build deeper roots and include those who have been wilfully marginalized. I’ve learned that this skill alone will take you unimaginably far in your leadership journey. To create justice and space and opportunity for all (especially those who have been overlooked, underestimated and ignored) is the greatest leadership opportunity of our lifetimes. It is leadership in action to be able to include all. Lesson 3 To walk fast, go alone, to walk far, go together, as an African proverb teaches us. What I found at LT was a community of people who believed in me and saw a vision for me I’d never seen modeled for myself. Then, they rose up and championed me every step of the way so I didn’t have to walk this path alone. I started my company in 2017 with LITERALLY no experience in running a leadership consulting practice, nor pitching to clients. I had been in Seattle for just over 3 years. My classmates and the Leadership Tomorrow community recommended me for opportunities, made connections and cheered me on. As those of us who are entrepreneurs know, it’s the biggest gift. Lesson 4 Kindness matters more than titles. My class consisted of many people who could stop a room by job title alone. I came to Leadership Tomorrow with no title, I’d left my last job the year prior and was basically self-publishing a book about gender inequality in the workplace. Yet, I was never made to feel less than. No one questioned my ability to lead, no one side-stepped me to talk to my famous-by-titles peers. That was a huge aha moment for me. I realized that what makes people leaders is not their titles, but how much kindness and respect they have for others. If we’re creating leaders for tomorrow, then how we show up as leaders today has everything to do with propelling others to become the best version of themselves. Another photo courtesy of Ben Reuler of members of the LT class of 2016 who came to graduation to cheer me on! Lesson 5 Being able to have the big, uncomfortable, vulnerable conversations today has a huge impact on tomorrow. More since 2016, even more since 2020. I was able to find my voice and speak up, even when my voice wavered at first, to work to decolonize and build antiracist behaviors in myself, and then use my voice to speak up for others. In the years since, I’ve found the greatest strength and professional and personal success in being able to navigate tough, tough topics on race, gender, oppression, systemic and institutional barriers to opportunities and more. Lesson 6 Find out the stories behind the scenes and always be curious to dig deeper. At LT, we had Possibility Days focused on educating us on equity and justice (and the lack thereof) across a variety of subjects: how our neighborhoods were set up, health, economic disparities, etc. When I was choosing to move to a new home during LT, having a neighborhood Possibility Day centered around the history of Seattle’s Central District (a red-lined, historically Black neighborhood now facing rapid gentrification), made me really thoughtful about making sure the CD wouldn’t lose its essence grounded in communities of color when I moved there. I’ve lived in the CD for the past 7 years, and I’m a proud and vocal neighbor and supporter of CD’s Black-owned business and community endeavors. Lesson 7 When you get a choice to remain neutral or take action in situations of injustice, choose action. Here’s the thing: many people I meet are already leaders by title. You already have a seat at the table. Many of you are a few steps away from, if not already, leading the way in government, businesses, nonprofits, or a combination of these. So my message isn’t to boost you in your personal leadership trajectory – that’s inevitable, and I can’t wait to cheer you on. I urge all of us to continually ask: who isn’t getting a seat at the table? Whose voices aren’t getting heard? Who isn’t being represented in leadership? And how can I change that? Not just acknowledge it, but take swift action, no matter how hard, to correct it? In the last few years, I’ve often reached for this quote by Desmond Tutu: "If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor." So, I humbly request you…do NOT remain neutral. Claim your seat at the table, and then make sure there’s room for others, especially for those who look nothing like you. Who don’t have your life experiences. Who don’t have your privilege. Because it takes ALL of us, and all our voices to make change. Click here to subscribe to the Inclusion is Leadership letter.

I recently joined Ramaa Sharma and Stéphane Mayoux on the first episode of the Reuters’ Institute and University of Oxford podcast: Authentic Leadership, where we discussed, “What does ‘authenticity’ mean?” While we were specifically exploring it in the context of the news industry (which all three of us have had experience working in), our conversation ended up being broadly applicable across industries. This remains a question that stumps me. I think of my childhood. For many of us who were born outside the country of our parents’ origin or moved at a very young age to a culture that was very different from the one we’ve seen at home, we’ve had to cultivate strongly disparate versions of ourselves to "fit in" in different places. Essentially, we learn from a young age how to present ourselves in different ways in different contexts. It's like putting on armor or a heavy coat, sometimes many types. My example: I grew up with Indian immigrant parents in Singapore, before going to a British elementary school, then an international school in Asia, which was run mostly by western (European and American) educators. So, of course, this brought about so much confusion on "authenticity" for me navigating many cultures and ways of being since I was a small child. Was my authentic self the one who spoke Hindi at home? Or the one that was taught that a British accent was the best, as I was at school? Was it the “rebel” me as an adolescent that I learned is common in western cultures or the more obedient “good Indian girl” that my mother expected me to be? I never fully understood, and perhaps never will, who my most authentic self is. How do we navigate authenticity in these different spaces when we’re expected to conform to our different environments? Everyone can relate to this questioning as we develop from childhood to adolescence to adulthood. But it can be particularly complicated for those who have found themselves underrepresented or underestimated or both, especially in adulthood and then in the workplace. More so, when a value judgment is placed on which "way" is better, like when I was taught that western accents were more professional than the Indian accent I had at home. I felt so “seen” when I learnt there's a name for it: code-switching—it’s when someone alters their language or cultural expression to better assimilate to their environment. This can serve as a survival tactic, and it may not even happen consciously. This area of study was developed by academics researching the experience of Black professionals in the workplace, who would often feel immense pressure to change themselves to fit into white-dominant workplaces. Side note: Check out one of my favorite podcasts, the aptly-named, Code Switch. (I joined this episode to talk about the long-term implications of having your name mispronounced!) We navigate the pressure to conform while also balancing the truth that authenticity makes for better leaders. “Organizations that foster authentic behavior are more likely to have engaged, enthusiastic, motivated employees and psychologically safe cultures,” according to the Center for Creative Leadership. Authenticity allows room for innovation, creativity, and overall increased satisfaction and happiness. When we feel safe to be ourselves and speak up at work, everyone benefits. My point here isn’t to tell people who’ve never felt fully comfortable at work to be more authentic. It’s to encourage leaders who have found their ways of being (over)represented to be intentional about ensuring that all of your employees feel safe in their authenticity. It’s much like my thoughts on imposter syndrome, which I’ve written about with Jodi-Ann Burey. The onus shouldn’t be on women (particularly women of color) to learn how to "conquer" imposter syndrome, it’s on organizations to stop telling women they don't belong. Check out Jodi-Ann’s amazing TED talk on authenticity at work! So how can leaders encourage authenticity among all? Stop giving women and people of color feedback to become “better, more authentic” leaders. Instead, we need managers and leaders who say, “Don’t feel pressure to conform. I appreciate this part of you that is clearly a very deep core part of you, your leadership, and the frameworks that you bring to the workplace.” I also love prescribing storytelling as a lever for inclusion. (You know I will always recommend reading works of fiction by those with different backgrounds and experiences from ourselves!) When we amplify and hear stories from others, it makes us feel safer when sharing our own stories. As writer Akwaeke Emezi says, “The first step to creating a better world is being able to imagine it. Stories can create a bridge between what is possible and what we actually make happen.” When people see my Indian features and expect me to conform to a stereotype they have in their head of how Indian women should act, I feel less safe bringing my Singaporean identity, what feels like my authentic self, to those interactions. It’s also why I want to amplify more voices and celebrate so many more authentic leaders. What can you do to encourage and celebrate someone else’s authenticity today? Click here to subscribe to the Inclusion is Leadership letter.

Earlier this month, I was lucky enough to interview famous travel writer (and brilliant human!) Pico Iyer for Seattle Arts & Lectures. With decades of “criss-crossing the globe” under his belt, Pico weaves storytelling with his own observations on cultures that demonstrate his genuine love for people. He does it in lyrical prose, but also with a humility that I find so lacking in many travel “experts.” Our connection was instantaneous and our conversation stayed with me long after. Like Pico, my roots span countries and cultures. So what really struck me about his work is his explorations of seeking travel AND finding home. I’ve struggled to define “home” for me as an Indian-Singaporean-British-American global citizen. When I asked him how he defines home, he responded: “Home is not really connected with a piece of soil as much as a piece of soul.” I love this idea—that home isn’t a physical place, but a piece that lives within us and a connection with the people we love. We may be constantly searching for the place that feels like home, but it doesn’t have to be a physical place, no matter how much the world and passports and our colleagues want us to choose a neat box and category. Pico told stories of traveling to places like North Korea and Yemen, parts of the world where he risked imprisonment for the way he folded a newspaper and feared being kidnapped as he traveled through the countryside. And as he took us to these corners of the globe that were so fraught, what he focused on was the common humanity and generosity of all the people he encountered. His storytelling is remarkable, truly. Ruchika Tulshyan and Pico Iyer sitting on blue chairs with microphones in front of them. Image courtesy: Seattle Arts & Lectures He brought up the example of how people in North Korea could be executed for just glancing at a foreign newspaper, for being curious about the world. He’s met many people who would give anything to visit Seattle or New York or any number of cities outside of their own, but face barriers to even reading about it. But what is our excuse for not being more curious and informed about the world and seeking stories of it beyond a narrow, western lens? It is so easy to surround ourselves with people who are just like us. (You know I’ve talked extensively about affinity bias.) And Pico brought up a point that meant so much to me—perhaps the illusion of living in the digital, smartphone age can trick us into believing that we know more about others than we do. But “the world is always richer and deeper and more interesting than our ideas of it.” And then there is our fear of the unknown which prevents us from seeking stories beyond ones like our own. I draw inspiration from his approach: “It’s wonderful that we know so little.” When we know so little about the world, there is opportunity to get curious and explore. So how do we do so responsibly? As we gear up for summer and, possibly, travel, I encourage people to travel while also considering that there’s a line between cultural appropriation and appreciation. Learn about where you’re going, educate yourself on cultural norms, and treat everyone you meet with respect. For some places, this may even mean planning a trip elsewhere. Hawaii, for example, does not encourage visiting many parts of the state that have been negatively impacted by tourism. Pico and I talked about how I’ve learned so much about the world by frequenting restaurants and shops in Seattle owned by people from cultures around the world. Sometimes, the greatest adventures come from exploring new cultures in your own backyard. I’ll close with another favorite quote from Pico: “Travel has very little to do with movement and everything to do with being moved. You don’t have to go far to be transformed.” Click here to subscribe to the Inclusion is Leadership letter.

Remember when I wrote about why good people aren’t always inclusive leaders? In that letter, I covered how to use our privilege for good. One of the most significant ways to do this? Amplify the voices of others with less privilege If you have a platform and influence, you have a responsibility to use your privilege in a tangible, actionable way to amplify the voices of others. This could be in a meeting: “Ruchika had a great idea, I wanted to echo it.” It could be selecting someone who is fully qualified but often overlooked to lead the client presentation. And it absolutely could look like using your social media platforms to shout out people and stories and products that should be elevated. When we amplify others, we not only ensure that more voices are heard, but we create a culture of success. People feel safer and more confident speaking up and sharing ideas. We establish an environment where we can learn more about each other and the world, particularly when it comes to experiences that are different from our own. Underestimated people often get overlooked because (technology) platforms and people are biased. A small example: A reader wrote to me that when she searched for a book on leadership and inclusion on Amazon, the algorithm suggested three books for her to buy, all by white men. My own book had to be explicitly searched, because the algorithms are coded to show that women of color don’t write leadership books. Turning over the mic to others is so crucial in building an inclusive, equitable society. Not to speak for others, but to create opportunities for them to speak for themselves. I am lucky enough to have a combined follower count of over 50,000 people across all of my social media platforms. So this July, I’m turning them over to you! Here I am holding a few copies of Inclusion On Purpose with the text, "Social Media Takeover #AmplifyJuly! Want to reach 50,000+ social media followers? For all of July, Ruchika is turning her socials OVER TO YOU! Apply to be amplified: bit.ly/AmplifyJulyRT" Every weekday in July, I’ll be highlighting a new person. Please submit to be featured here. How Can I Amplify Others? I often get asked about how to "be an ally" (and if you're a regular reader, you'll know I use "ally" as a verb, not noun). To practice allyship consistently and meaningfully, it's necessary to use any and all platforms and privileges you have to amplify others who don't have the same ones -- particularly those from underestimated communities. That means giving credit to the woman of color who often gets talked over in meetings. It means sharing great content created by and featuring folks from overlooked communities. It means frequenting and praising and buying from great restaurants, cafes, vendors etc...from marginalized entrepreneurs. We all have an opportunity to amplify others, even if we think we don't. I'm trying to be intentional to do this right with Amplify July. Can you reflect on ways you could amplify others within your spheres of influence? And in the meantime… I’ll be taking August off, inspired by the brilliant work of Tricia Hersey in Rest Is Resistance. So can I amplify you? I can’t wait to see your submissions! Click here to subscribe to the Inclusion is Leadership letter.

After posting this AMA (Ask Me Anything) last month, I was thrilled to see how many of you were excited about engaging in conversation! Several reader questions stood out, but I wanted to dedicate this newsletter to one question in particular, which really boils down to: How can we support trans people, even when we don’t fully understand the trans experience? It’s no secret that TGNC (or transgender and gender nonconforming) people around the world are under attack—physically and legislatively. The first step in educating ourselves and moving toward positive change is having honest conversations and learning in public. I’m grateful to the person who asked this question for coming forward from a place of vulnerability, who also shared they were working outside the U.S. Growing up in Singapore, I never knew anyone openly gay or trans. Not because (as you'll read later on) TGNC people don't exist the world over, but because it's unsafe for many to exist, and in the societies I grew up in, that is more so because of the legacy of colonial rule. I'm absolutely delighted that in my life now in Seattle, my 6-year-old kid has had multiple teachers from the LGBTQ+ community, a few classmates that don't identify with the gender they're assigned at birth and many friends whose parents are same-sex partners. It's wonderful and inclusive. Firstly, as a cishet woman, I can––and must––acknowledge that I don’t understand all of the nuances of moving through this world as a TGNC person. So, I do not speak as a member of the community, but rather, as someone who deeply believes in trans rights and that we are all under attack when trans people are. Below is what I've learned in my journey as someone who didn't know an openly TGNC person in my formative years, to someone who now is regularly in community with trans leaders. Photo by Karollyne Videira Hubert via Unsplash Trans stories are not monolithic Trans people are not a monolith, and everyone’s experience is nuanced and unique. But we can all educate ourselves on trans rights and amplify TGNC voices. One way to do this is to familiarize ourselves with what vocabulary to use. For example, when I say “cishet,” that’s a new-ish term meaning two things: “cis” - short for cisgender, or I identify with the gender that is typically associated with the sex I was assigned at birth and “het” - short for heterosexual, or I’m only attracted to people of another gender. Planned Parenthood has a great glossary here. While these terms are new-ish (and still evolving), there’s a rich history of trans and non-binary people. India, where my ancestors come from, has long recognized a gender beyond "male" and "female." The Human Rights Campaign put together a list of 7 Things About Transgender People That You Didn’t Know, and number one on the list is that trans people go back to at least 5,000 B.C. Understanding that this isn’t “new” or a “fad” is central to supporting and advancing trans rights. In fact, that’s the journey I’m currently on. Ask good questions Another question we must all investigate is when was the gender binary invented? And why? Gender is a spectrum which was fortified as a binary to benefit powerful people, intrinsically tied up in systems of oppression like racism, late stage capitalism and the patriarchy...AND especially more so when homosexuality was criminalized by British colonizers all over their colonies. Do check out The Patriarchs by Angela Saini for a fascinating read on the origins of the patriarchy, which was fortified by imposing a strict gender binary. In tandem, we must also investigate—why has the LGBTQ+ community historically been attacked? Why would those attacks be targeting trans people now? Why is LGBTQ+ literature (along with literature centering folks from other historically underestimated groups—particularly Black people in the U.S.) being taken off library shelves? The LGBTQ+ community has historically been painted as one to fear. But once more of us who were socialized to believe in very strict definitions of gender and sexuality (not the same thing!) learn about the truth of both as beyond narrow binaries, it is so liberating. It’s so thrilling and joyful to learn that there are possibilities for us beyond the binary. It’s liberating to teach my kid that there’s no such thing as “boy” colors or “girl” colors and that love is a feeling inside your heart, not based on who society tells us to love (like I was). And that, in itself, is a radical attack on white supremacist ideals. How can we meaningfully support trans people? Because it isn’t always safe (or even legal) for trans people to advocate for themselves, anyone who practices allyship with the TGNC community needs to be well versed on ways that they can help: Support TGNC people in conversations with friends and family. Learn about and from trans leaders. There’s a great Netflix documentary on Marsha P. Johnson, and I’ve learned a lot from Alok Vaid-Menon. (I love this clip of them in conversation with Jonathan Van Ness.) Respect people’s pronouns. This website is really helpful for people who want to learn more about what different pronouns are and why they matter. Consider donating to an organization that supports trans people like the Okra Project (providing food for Black Trans people), For the Gworls (raising money to assist with Black Trans people’s rent and gender affirming surgeries), Transgender Legal Defense & Education Fund (ending discrimination based upon gender identity and expression through education and direct legal services), or many more. Seek out your local LGBTQ+ organizations and learn how to best support them. And when it comes to the workplace, be sure to invest in DEI that’s intersectional and inclusive of people in the LGBTQ+ community, hire TGNC people, respect people's pronouns, and accept that mistakes will be made. It's important to acknowledge those mistakes, apologize, and make positive changes. I recommend checking out Lily Zheng's work, particularly their book DEI Deconstructed: Your No-Nonsense Guide to Doing the Work and Doing it Right. Advocate for what you DO believe in As for the second part of the question, it’s okay to not understand all facets of any issue or take a strong position on an issue you're still learning about. It's more important to vocally support what you DO—the right for anyone to choose whom they love, marry who they want, wear what they want without fear. And as always, center the voices of those most impacted. As you self-educate and build your awareness, your comfort with speaking up may change and expand. I've personally seen children as young as 3 and 4 already know for sure they're not the gender they were assigned at birth and witnessed the struggle they've had when they aren't supported or loved....and conversely, the peace and joy when they were accepted for who they intrinsically knew they were. That experience alone reformed biased beliefs I was conditioned with about being trans, and I’m continually learning. Oddly enough, I’m comforted by Republican state senator Daniel Thatcher’s stance on the GOP’s treatment of trans people. In his interview with Lulu Garcia-Navarro, he says, “They’re being told this is a social contagion, these kids are popping up because we’ve made it popular. Bullshit. It’s becoming more common because it is becoming safer. It is not safe. But it’s safer.” Thatcher has built a reputation for himself as one of the few Republican representatives standing up for TGNC rights. This is where I really think change can be made—when we remove political rhetoric from what should be basic human rights and respect. It’s true, we are seeing and hearing from more TGNC people––though not nearly enough. The more space trans people have to safely express themselves across all binaries and spectrums, the more comfortable people will feel just existing as their most authentic selves. Isn’t that what we want for everyone? I love these words by Alok Vaid-Menon: “I want so badly for the world to feel entitled to its joy, to its pleasure, to its delight. I want so badly for people to give themselves permission to try, transgress, transcend. I want so badly to be able to walk down the street without having the joy punished out of me. I want so badly to share this with you. This (un)becoming. This invitation. This joy.” Trans people have been here since long before the gender binary, long before we had the word “trans” and any misconceptions of what that means. It’s up to us to make sure everyone is safe, supported and free. Because until all of us are, none of us are. Not really. Click here to subscribe to the Inclusion is Leadership letter.

On a clear, sunny day in Seattle, I get to marvel at a giant, snow-peaked mountain right in my line of sight. I know y’all (out of Seattle) believe it’s always rainy here, but Seattleites leave that story unchecked so the traffic doesn’t get worse. :) As you can see, she’s absolutely breathtaking. Photo by Lalit Gupta via Unsplash For the first 8.5 years I lived here–I can’t believe I moved in 2013!–I knew this majestic beauty as Mount Rainier. Then, I read an article that described not only how Mount Rainier was the colonized name for what was traditionally named “Tahoma” in the Puyallup language of the Coast Salish people indigenous to this area, it was arrogantly renamed by George Vancouver to honor his friend. A one Mr. Rainier was an English naval officer who had never seen this mountain. A person who hadn’t even ever seen the mountain in real life, nor visited this region had it renamed for him. I was astounded by the hubris, the arrogance and the reminder that even 230 years since a white colonizer carelessly rewrote thousands of years of history, we are still upholding white supremacy by calling the mountain “Rainier.” Sadly, most people still know it by its colonized name. But one way I’m practicing resistance is by saying “Mount Tahoma is out,” gently correcting others who don’t, and teaching my 6-year-old to say “Tahoma,” not “Rainier.” Don’t applaud me for this I’m in the very early stages of a lifelong journey to understand the extent to which white settler colonization has brutally and systematically erased Native and Indigenous history and tradition in this region. One simple, yet significant, way we can keep the original history of this nation alive is by acknowledging the traditional occupants of the land. The closest I can come to empathizing with the “why” is reflecting on how the road I grew up on in Singapore–Mountbatten Road–was named after the English man who ripped my ancestors’ country in two–the Partition of India and Pakistan. It’s still called by his name. Names matter. History matters. Whose histories we remember by keeping their names alive matters. Sadly, what links so many people of color around the world is our shared history of being colonized, enslaved and the present experiences of being non-white in a global system of oppression. How do we even get to right hundreds of years of historical wrongs as leaders? By acknowledging that there was a story, a history and a culture that predates us. By learning. By paying rent to Native and Indigenous tribes. By continuing to learn from people who are Native and Indigenous to this land and boldly acknowledge what was stolen and lost by white settler colonization. A Land Acknowledgment To Remember In March, I attended an internal D&I Summit of over 2,000 attendees in Canada. The CEO of this large organization, a man of color who was once a refugee to the country he was now at the helm of one of the premier institutions of, sat in the front row. And the Summit kicked off with a detailed acknowledgment that the land we were on was not ours. The speaker who made this acknowledgment was a Native woman. She beautifully and humbly recognized that the land we were on that day traditionally belonged to many nations including the Mississaugas of the Credit, the Anishnabeg, the Chippewa, the Haudenosaunee and the Wendat peoples and is now home to many diverse First Nations, Inuit and Métis peoples. She also reminded us that we were guests on the land and our role was to protect and honor it. I had tears in my eyes, reflecting on how quickly thousands of years of history is routinely erased, the painful reminder of all that’s stolen in plain sight. The comprehensive land acknowledgment set a powerful stage for the rest of the Summit, humbling us with gratitude and setting us up to be intentional with the power that came with being up on stage. I’m learning that land acknowledgments are necessary and should be the norm, not the exception. If land acknowledgments are new to you––as they were for me––there may be a period of discomfort, shame, questioning and/or defensiveness. We must push past it and learn from those leading this work who are from Native and Indigenous communities. Here’s a fantastic primer I’ve learned from on how to make a meaningful land acknowledgment from, by Sicangu CDC. In my awareness-building and education on Native and Indigenous rights, I’ve come across some devastating facts on disparities in healthcare, economic security, children’s and women’s rights and safety and more faced by communities that were brutally oppressed by white colonization. The past traumas continue to inform the present realities of so many Native and Indigenous communities. We have so much work to do to even think of reaching a just and equitable reality. We should never forget all that was stolen and lost to get us to where we are today. Another way we can materially contribute is by donating to organizations dedicated to serving Native and Indigenous people. Two organizations that have long served Indigenous people is Chief Seattle Club and the Native American Rights Fund. I live in Seattle, land that has been stewarded by the Salish and Coastal Salish Peoples—the first peoples of what is now called Washington State. The land I live on is traditionally home to the Duwamish Tribe, the Muckleshoot Tribe, the Spokane Tribe, and the Yakama Nation. I try to remember this every day, especially when I see Mount Tahoma in the distance on a twinkling, sunny day. Devastatingly, Mount Tahoma has not been officially recognized by its original, non-colonial name, despite ongoing efforts from Puyallup and other tribes. We have a real opportunity to right a historical wrong and I will do everything I can on my part to advocate for it. If you have any leads on organizations working to restore our mountain’s original name, please let me know! In solidarity, Click here to subscribe to the Inclusion is Leadership letter.