8:47 am: I stole a glance at the clock on the wall and suddenly it dawned on me that I had less than 15 minutes to get to my next meeting in another part of the building. Barring interruptions, I figured that I could get there on time. I gulped down the remainder of my coffee, politely excused myself and left. On the way, I thought that I’d better stop off at the nearest men’s room given that I’d consumed two cups of coffee during the meeting I just left.
Aha, I found one and quickly entered it.
Now the first thing that caught my ears and eyes were distinctly female voices and a pair of feet in black high heel shoes in one of the stalls. I thought to myself, wow, we’ve come a long way in creating an inclusive workplace, and opening restrooms to women – and cross dressers – is another indication.
But wait, hold on a second. Hum. I scratched my graying Head. Something didn’t seem right. I scanned the room.
Where were the urinals? Yikes, there were none. I’d mistakenly entered the ladies room!
In a split second, I transformed from being mired in deep thought about the meeting about to start to a terrified deer caught in the headlights. Scared now and with lightening-like speed, I headed for door hoping to get out of there before the occupants discovered my intrusion.
That’s when I encountered another uncomfortable reality; folks in the hallways would see me, a man and highly visible diversity director of all people…exiting the ladies room.
Should I stay, or should l go? Do I crack a joke and meekly apologize to the occupants if I’m caught, or should I dart into an empty stall if I’m yet to be discovered to wait it out while weighing my options. I decided that staying was not a good idea.
Head bowed in utter embarrassment, I charged out of the room past two women on the way in, avoided eye contact with them and others in the busy hallway and rushed to my next meeting, full bladder and all.
So here I am months after that experience contemplating how I may be able to apply it to the work of diversity and inclusion. It didn’t take long to figure out that using my “questions for a thoughtful analysis” approach, the one I’ve used in columns I’ve written over the years, could work here as well.
Let’s begin with questions for those of us who stumble by mistake into the “wrong” room:
• What other mistaken “restrooms” do we sometimes go charging into? A private conversation? A group from a different religion in prayer? Others speaking a language we didn’t understand? An old boys’ (or girls’) social gathering, or an all-male/female leadership team? What did we learn from the experience?
• Was our mistaken “restroom” a stereotype we didn’t think we had, or an assumption we may have had about someone only to find out that you were dead wrong?
• What did we notice about the surroundings in the place we stumbled into? How different were they from what we were accustomed to? Did it contain niceties and perks that were absent from our “restroom?”
• How did those in that room respond? Shock? Anger? Laughter? Amusement? Did they welcome us? Did they change their behavior, conversation topic, etc., upon our arrival?
• And on the way out, how conscious were we about those who may have observed us emerging from our mistaken restroom? Did we worry about impressions they may have formed about us since clearly we were in the wrong room?
Turning now to the occupants of those rooms who experienced an unexpected guest:
• Were there “signs” on the wall that the room is for “your people only?”
• What conclusions did you reach about your unexpected guest? What feelings and emotions might be racing through their heads once they discover that they’d entered your room, the wrong room?
• How would you react if your unexpected guest insisted on staying?
• Did you and your fellow occupants “shift to another “language,” perhaps one that your guest did not speak when she/he entered the room?
• Say that you’re perfectly okay with having someone outside your group enter your room. How willing are you to respond to those like you in your group who aren’t?
Now to those on the outside who observe someone leaving the wrong room:
• What conclusions did you reach about those “like you” – a woman, an African American, etc. – you observe leaving a room full of “them” – men, white folks, etc.? For better or for worse, did your perception of them change in any way once they emerged from the room?
• What can occupants “like you” in the “wrong room” teach you about what it is like being in a different room; the price to be paid and the benefits of being in that room?
Recently I attended a sporting event at a large stadium. During half time, a phenomena I noticed – as most of us have – was the long lines of women waiting to get into ladies rooms. And adjacent to those rooms – an example of male privilege – were men’s rooms where long lines were non-existent. (Hey fellas, imagine for a minute what it would be like if the roles were reversed and we guys had to stand in a long line to get into the men’s room… and scores of folks were eyeing us in those lines! How long would we tolerate that condition?) Hum. I’m just asking!
So among the questions to ponder are: how welcoming are those of us who are men to women who need to share our “restrooms” – aka boardrooms, male dominated professions, etc. – to avoid having to wait in long lines to get into occupational enclaves for women?
Would we alter the landscape, the rules for engagement and the language to accommodate them, or view them as “quotas” hoisted upon us by HR, takers of “what’s always been ours,” and expect that they become less feminine and more like us?
In the end, isn’t it funny how caffeine – or a wrong turn- can force us into a wrong room where we go head to head with and experience what it’s like to be an outsider?
Well, maybe it’s not so funny after all.
Oops, excuse me while I make a mad dash to the restroom…the men’s room that is, the one with no long line!
Some more questions to discuss over an upcoming meeting, dinner or coffee break:
1. Arguably, women having to stand in long lines to use restrooms while such is not the case for men seems unfair to the fair minded. So why the silence by those who may feel this way? Are we part of the problem?
2. If other groups – say blacks, Asians, Muslims, Christians, whites, gays, etc., had to wait in a different line, would there be silence or would there be protests?
3. What messages – implicit perhaps – do we send to impressionable women (and men) with this disparity in lines and the availability in the number of rest and other rooms?
©Terry Howard
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