In my recent piece on the bias loop, I talked about the challenge of being forever seen through the lens of your “year one” self. A dear friend and colleague added an unexpected twist:

Sometimes the bias loop runs in reverse.

You can be in the same company for years, even decades, but when leadership changes, you suddenly find yourself perceived only through the narrowest, most recent snapshot of your career.

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, I invited my network into something new: a collaborative research project on inclusion. I asked a simple question:

What questions should we be asking leaders about inclusion today?

Putting something like that out publicly is always a little vulnerable. You never know if it’ll resonate or just disappear into the feed. But this time, it landed. Colleagues commented and reposted and everyone added thoughtful suggestions for what kinds of questions I could consider. It was generous, helpful, and exactly the kind of engagement I was hoping for.

A few weeks ago, I asked my mom for her top ten life lessons.

She gave me 113.

Yes, that’s my mom, Cathy. The kind of person who can fill your plate with more wisdom than you thought possible, and somehow make it feel light and joyful. She’s also the kind of person who’s ended up as the hero in more than one story I tell on stage. (If you’ve seen The Printer Story, you know what I mean.)

James Bond is the worst kind of teammate.

He seduces colleagues, breaks protocol, refuses backup, and dismisses authority, unless it comes from an old white man named M. He drinks on the job. He uses charm as a weapon. And when women say no, he hears it as negotiation.

Let’s be clear: Bond isn’t just problematic. He’s a walking symbol of white male privilege.

When leadership fails in international teams, we often blame the culture clash. But what if the real issue isn’t cultural difference, it’s leadership inflexibility?

You know that feeling when you return home, and, no matter how much you've grown, your sibling still teases you like you're twelve? My brother and I do it every time we see each other. We can cut through four decades of growth with a single eye roll or joke, and suddenly we're back at the kids' table.

When Judith M Markgraf-Bye gave her 16-year-old son Erik a copy of my book The Sins and Wins of Inclusive Leadership, I assumed it would land the way leadership books usually land with teenagers: admired politely, skimmed lightly, maybe placed on a shelf next to school binders and video game controllers.

Let’s be honest: most corporate training programs are boring. They feel like punishment for having a job. And the worst part? They’re not even effective. People forget what they heard, resist what they’re told, and check out halfway through.

If your leaders know how to collaborate across departments, they already know how to practice inclusion. They just don’t call it that yet.