When I accepted the position, I didn’t know the sheer magnitude of the struggle, strife, tribulations—and ecstasy—that I would come to experience.

I thought I was joining to make the world of work better. I didn’t know I was signing up to become part diplomat, part data analyst, part therapist, part firefighter, part preacher, and occasionally... part magician.

 

Let me start with the good stuff—the dreams that get me out of bed, the wins that make me fist-pump in my home office like I’ve just scored the winning goal in a World Cup final.

 

There are moments in this job that feel transcendent. Moments where a marginalized employee, who once felt invisible, tells me they finally see themselves in our leadership. Moments when an executive, previously allergic to the words “systemic bias,” comes to me asking how they can mentor across difference. There are those times when we run a session and something shifts in the room—like tectonic plates adjusting, subtle but permanent. When people finally understand that belonging isn’t about bean bags or Bollywood Fridays, but about dignity, power, and psychological safety.

These wins keep me alive. They are my oxygen.

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But let me not romanticize.

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Because alongside the breakthroughs comes a full-blown, heart-palpitating reality check.

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Let’s talk about the dread.

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No one told me that driving transformation would also mean navigating silent resistance that wears a polite smile. Or that I’d have to be the translator between legalese and lived experience, constantly tempering progress with risk mitigation. Or that I’d spend so much time convincing otherwise intelligent people that yes, privilege exists—and no, it doesn’t mean you’re a bad person.

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Then there’s the pressure to perform miracles with a skeleton team and a PowerPoint deck. To be the corporate conscience without alienating the C-suite. To both quantify and qualify belonging—as if empathy could be rendered into quarterly metrics.

And the backlash. Ah yes, the backlash.

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One week I’m a “visionary change leader.” The next, I’m “woke gone wild” because someone didn’t like our gender-inclusive bathroom signage. The internet is kind enough to remind me that “DEIB is divisive,” as if equality were a radical ideology invented by HR.

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Still, we march on.

Because what choice do we have?

This is the tightrope DEIB executives wa

lk daily. And just when you think you’ve balanced it—bam!—you stumble upon one of those wicked problems that mocks linear thinking.

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Let me give you a taste.

1. The Fatigue Paradox: People are tired of DEIB. So tired, in fact, that we’re now being asked to rebrand inclusion—make it sexier, easier to digest. Something between a TED Talk and a TikTok dance. But the fatigue isn’t from DEIB itself—it’s from doing it badly, without depth or courage.

2. The Metrics Trap: Leaders demand “proof” that DEIB is working. But what constitutes proof? Increased representation? Decreased attrition? A feeling? A pulse survey smiley face? Culture change resists simple measurement—but we chase metrics anyway, like trying to measure wind with a ruler.

3. Performative Allyship at the Top: Executives want to be seen as progressive, but often balk at the discomfort real transformation requires. “We support you,” they say, but quietly veto policy changes that might actually shift power.

4. The Intersectionality Iceberg: You launch a great program on gender equity—and someone rightly asks, “But where is race in this?” You pivot to race—now you’ve lost the disability group. You try to do it all—then someone complains it’s too much. Intersectionality is essential, but trying to address it holistically in a piecemeal system? It’s like playing 4D chess in the middle of a storm.

5. The Isolation Epidemic: DEIB roles are often underfunded, under-resourced, and emotionally draining. We are expected to hold space for everyone—often without anyone holding space for us.

6. Psychological Safety in a Polarized World: How do you foster open dialogue when everything feels politicized? When one person’s “lived experience” is another’s “overreaction”? When everyone is walking on eggshells but still stepping on landmines?

 

Despite all this, I am not disillusioned. Tired? Yes. Occasionally rage-filled? Absolutely. But also hopeful.

Because here’s the truth: DEIB work is not a soft skill. It is a systems-level, people-centered, future-building strategy. And while we’re often underestimated, we are also undeterred.

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I end most days exhausted—but not empty. Even when the wins are small, they are not insignificant. Because every shift in language, every change in policy, every moment of recognition—it ripples. And ripples become waves.

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So tomorrow, I’ll wake up again, check my inbox, and walk straight into the chaos.

Because despite the dread, despite the wicked problems, the dream is still worth it.

And the drive to transform? It hasn’t left me yet.

 

— For every DEIB leader out there still fighting the good fight, this one's for you -- from a slightly exhausted, occasionally exasperated, but eternally idealistic DEIB leader with a dream