We’ve been hearing a lot lately about women and other minorities being underrepresented, mistreated, undervalued, and marginalized across a wide range of fields — from tech to the arts. It’s troubling, complex, and deeply important. Rather than unpack every nuance here, I want to offer a different perspective on how to think about diversity, shaped by my own experience: as a woman in traditionally male-dominated environments, as the leader of an entrepreneurship program for high school students, and as someone who has navigated the dynamics of diversity at MIT, Harvard Business School, and while building my own company.
From “Just an Engineer” to “Woman In…”
Early in my career, I didn’t think of myself as a “woman in engineering” or a “woman in management,” even though by societal stereotypes I was clearly an anomaly. I simply thought of myself as an engineer. A manager. A curious, capable maker. To me, being a woman felt no more relevant to my professional ability than my height or eye color. I knew I had earned my place through competence and hard work — not by performing “well for a woman,” but by performing well, period. I saw myself as fully equal to my male counterparts: just as smart, valuable, innovative, and deserving.
Years later, that subtly shifted. I began to internalize the identity of being a “woman in…” and started filtering my behavior through that lens. That’s when things got complicated. I started questioning how I showed up: whether bringing baked goods to a meeting made me seem unprofessional; whether colorful clothing or dresses undermined my credibility; whether I laughed too much, spoke too softly, or needed to assert myself more strongly to be taken seriously.
Would any of this make me seem like the “office wife” instead of the engineer I was hired to be? The “office mom” instead of a leader? The “project coordinator” instead of the strategic thinker?
I even found myself worrying that if a computer model or 3D print wasn’t perfect on the first try, people would take it as proof that hiring a woman engineer had been a mistake — despite the fact that I consistently completed work faster and with stronger results than many of my male peers.
This internal monitoring diluted my ability to simply be me. I became less present, less bold, less fluid. I spent too much energy worrying about how my natural tendencies would be interpreted, instead of just letting them exist. If I didn’t fit the stereotype of how a woman “should” behave, what did that mean? And if I did fit it, was that worse?
The Hidden Cost of the Spotlight
These thoughts may sound trivial, but they’re deeply understandable given how diversity — especially gender diversity — is often discussed. What is intended as inclusion can sometimes feel like tokenism. And when someone checks one or more “diversity boxes,” it’s easy for them to start carrying an invisible weight of hyper-awareness and self-doubt.
This spotlight effect isn’t just emotionally draining — it can materially impact performance. This is where the concept of stereotype threat comes in: when people fear confirming a negative stereotype about their group, they often perform worse as a result. Study after study has demonstrated that when individuals are subtly reminded of stereotypes tied to their identity — gender, race, intelligence — their ability to perform declines, even when they are fully capable.
When someone becomes preoccupied with not “proving the stereotype true,” they lose psychological bandwidth. They hesitate. They second-guess. They shrink. And brilliance dulls.
The Business Case for Diversity
At the same time, the business case for diversity is unequivocal. Diverse teams are more innovative, more thoughtful, more adaptable, and more profitable. Companies that lack diversity not only limit opportunity — they limit perspective, creativity, and problem-solving power. They also open themselves up to the kinds of tone-deaf decisions that alienate entire customer bases.
Where Companies Go Wrong
But here’s where many companies go wrong: they treat diversity as an input metric instead of a cultural practice. As researchers at Stanford’s Clayman Institute call it, the “add and stir” approach — adding diverse faces without transforming the environment — does little to create genuine inclusion. Representation without belonging is hollow.
It’s not enough just to hire more women or people of color if, once inside, there’s no pathway for growth, no psychological safety, and no cultural shift in how power is distributed or voices are valued.
Another common pitfall is over-fixating on difference: when “celebrating diversity” becomes singling people out as symbolic representatives of their identities rather than recognizing them as multidimensional individuals. No one should feel that their primary role is to speak “on behalf of” their demographic. Their contribution should be valued because they are skilled, insightful, and positioned to add value — not because they fill a category.
Yes — listen when someone points out that a decision may be unknowingly exclusionary. Learn from that perspective. But don’t reduce that person to their identity alone. Inclusion means bringing people fully into the room, not placing them on display.
Environment and Representation That Actually Include
As Sapna Cheryan notes, even subtle aspects of workplace design — imagery, decor, messaging — can influence whether people feel they belong. You don’t need walls of diversity posters, but you do need to ensure your environment doesn’t unconsciously scream: “This place wasn’t built for you.”
There’s also evidence to suggest that inclusive dynamics improve when representation reaches meaningful thresholds (often cited around 20–30%). The goal isn’t quotas — it’s ensuring no one feels isolated, tokenized, or alone. Diversity should be woven throughout the team, not concentrated in one or two individuals carrying disproportionate symbolic weight.
What This Looks Like in Practice
So what does this look like in practice?
• Be intentional, but not performative. Don’t announce diversity like a trophy. Use inclusive language and visuals without attaching fanfare to representation.
• Examine your own bias patterns in hiring and evaluation. Similarity bias is natural — and dangerous.
• Focus on authenticity, not optics. Create a culture where people feel safe bringing their full selves to work.
• Invest in everyone’s growth — not just those who “diversify” your optics.
• Hire the best person for the role, while still being thoughtful about the perspectives and experiences your team lacks.
True inclusion isn’t about checking boxes. It’s about building a workplace where people feel both seen and unburdened — empowered, not hyper-aware. A place where no one feels like they are being evaluated through the lens of stereotype or exception.
For Those in the Spotlight
And for those who do find themselves as a visible minority: yes, the spotlight can be uncomfortable — but it can also be powerful. Visibility creates opportunity. While unfair in its origin, that attention can be leveraged. When I was one of the few women in engineering spaces, people noticed me more — sometimes out of uncertainty, sometimes curiosity. But it meant my work had a platform. I chose, whenever possible, to use that visibility to redefine expectations rather than shrink under them.
Change is happening — just not as quickly as we want. In the meantime, don’t let the spotlight dim your voice. Use it to illuminate your competence, your perspective, and your right to take up space.
Diversity Done Right
Diversity done right doesn’t isolate. It strengthens. And it should never cost someone their authenticity.
Laurie Stach 