When I was writing this essay just published by the media mogul platform that is Shondaland, I kept replaying a particular movie scene in my head.
One of my favorite movies is GI Jane. It’s a story of the first woman to become a Navy Seal. And, so, overcoming deep sexism. At one point the female character (played by Demi Moore) is about to get raped by her commander, the Master Chief, “to prepare her for what happens” in battle. She then has a wicked, brutal, bloody fight with him. During this fight, he says to her “seek life elsewhere”, to which she responds, “suck my *ick”. The whole crew then rallies behind her when they haven’t up to this point. She refuses to “seek life elsewhere”, because honestly there’s only one way through this particular workplace, and it’s was THROUGH.
If you haven’t seen it, here’s the clip. (Warning: it’s more than a bit graphic.)
Women (and people of color) have HAD to stick it out in workplaces that sucked. Because, really, what other choice did they have? None. Not really.
And as I was writing this new essay on Onlyness (this one is aimed directly to the Only’s, those who are told they are “too weird” and “too wild” when they are simply trying to be themselves), I kept returning to the key idea: SEEK LIFE ELSEWHERE. Women and POC at work are told (if not in words, then by the 1000 related actions) to seek life elsewhere. And, yet, they really can’t. It’s why women put up with sexual harassment, and people of color put up with all sorts of microaggressions. Because, what choice did they have? If they left, could they have a career? More often than not, no.
That’s why my message to Only’s is that now, actually, you can GET OUT of the existing systems, and not have it negatively affect you. It matters because it means you get to do what you came to do and you get to do it with the people who want it too. You can now ‘seek life elsewhere’ and actually have it work out for the better.
I shared this vignette with my editor and she responded, can you write this essay with this clarity and passion?
And so I did. Or at least, tried to. I’m curious to know what you think.
While still attending college — the same education I valued more than anything, and the one I’d almost been denied — I landed an administrative assistant position at Apple supporting a small strategy team. One day, the team said they were holding a brainstorm to come up with ideas for a big business problem, the specifics of which elude me this many years later. But I do remember how thrilled I was to be included — and, determined to carry my weight, I researched the problem, making a list of questions to ask and potential ways to tackle the challenge.
But once in the meeting, it only took a minute or two to realize: no one was making eye contact with me. I was, once again, invisible to those around me; but this time, it was because I was a low-status, under-credentialed admin who didn’t have an MBA like my colleagues. And while I can’t actually know if my ideas were any good, what I do know for sure is that the people in the meeting had no interest in even hearing them.
If you’re seen by the silhouette of who you are, you aren’t being seen as for your true self. And your ideas? They’re lost to everyone.
Now, I know that this feeling of invisibility wasn’t just in my head.
Loop de Looping
In 2017, researchers Adam Galinsky and Joe C. Magee of Columbia University gave language to this dynamic when they published an article about how power and status act as self-reinforcing loops: How much status a person has will directly affect whether their ideas are heard. So, if you’re high status (the boss of the PTA, a legacy student applying to a top-notch school, or a man in almost any context), you and your ideas are met with greater receptivity starting early on, and thus get the time and emotional support to develop nascent ideas into more complete and robust ideas. That, in turn, leads to more results, which then further boosts your status. Loop de loop — up and up you go.
Equally, if you’re a person of relatively low status — because you lack a pedigree or credentials, or you’re old or a woman, or young or a person of color (I was many of these) — the likelihood is you’ll get none of the same support. If you lack status, you’ll likely be told your idea is either too risky or just weird, either too far ahead of the market or passé, or — the one my friends hear the most — that it is “too much” (whatever that means). You’re rendered invisible.
Again, it’s not because an idea was weighed and deemed unworthy, but because it came from a person who was deemed relatively powerless, and therefore unworthy of being seen or heard.
And so therein lies the irony.
Originality — the quality of being novel or unusual — is widely celebrated and understood as the basis of innovation. Yet so many of us (in fact, the vast majority of us), because of our present low-ranking status, are not seen for what we each specifically, and distinctly offer. We’re rendered invisible because we’re seen through the lens of an “other.” This otherness denies you and your truth and your ideas, it takes away what you distinctly bring to the table, and it keeps strong, innovative, valuable ideas from being heard. When you’re “otherized” you’re seen only by comparison with those already in charge; you’re seen as “different.” And to be seen as “different” is to be seen thru a subjective and relative lens, rather than the subject of your own story.
Yet most of the popular, go-to books and theories on innovation — books like “Originals,” “Outliers,” “Where Good Ideas Come From,” or “The Evolution of Everything” — largely ignore this power and status dynamic. Don’t get me wrong; these works are valuable. But they also overlook a massive elephant in the room — bias — that well over 50 percent of us face.
Onlyness Cannot be Otherized
So, how do we characterize a more inclusive form of innovation, one that can’t be otherized?
Well, let’s start with what it is. Each of us stands in a spot in the world only we each stand in, with our own specific set of history and experiences, visions and hopes. This spot is singular and distinct, one no one else occupies and is the genesis point of all new ideas. It is never comparative or relative, but contributive. Existing terms used to describe the underseen are “different”, or “diverse” or “unique”, all of which are relative terms. To say “diverse” is to say you’re not part of that 31 % of white men already in power. But each of us, ourselves, standing in that spot in the world ONLY we each stand in, has value to offer. From this spot, each of us is then able to give or supply our bit to the world. This applies even if some of our experiences are not as “perfect” as we would want; because they are still perfectly ours, and thus exactly right as a source for what each of us creates.
Hence, “onlyness”. And, last year, I published a book on it.
Your onlyness starts from that place you are born into, including your family and faith, gender, race, and even language. This is your “vertical” identity, where the story starts. But onlyness also includes your visions and hopes, those things you care about or yearn for, even if you can’t name them, and especially if others don’t see what you see. It could be a passion for education (like my early story) or wanting to use your skills to bring new voices to market, or even something as grand yet nebulous as working toward world peace. Since it’s the horizon you’re aiming for, this part of onlyness is a “horizontal” identity — it’s how the story advances.
Onlyness is fundamentally about honoring and appreciating each and every person. It includes us all. First, as we value ourselves, and second as we are valued. Onlyness is the fuel of vast creativity, innovations, and adaptability. It’s an inclusive framework that argues that each of us — maybe even all 7.5 billion of us on this earth — is worthy of being seen and heard and fully capable of offering something of value to the world.
Yet shifting to this new frame isn’t easy. Because it means addressing how pervasive bias is, and bias is often unconscious (though plenty of fully conscious prejudice is also still at play). Bias unconsciously intended doesn’t make it any less harmful. For example, a comment toward a pregnant woman asking if she’ll return to work can take on a determinative quality: To “help” her, she is given “less taxing” roles, which are actually lower-status and less-career-enhancing, and that leaves her so unsatisfied that she decides to stay at home with the baby. The domineering white male who cuts off his younger colleague mid-sentence is often viewed as just being his usual forceful self but is actually reducing the chance of fresh ideas being seen and heard, so his loudmouthedness is also his way of keeping his power position and maintaining the status quo. A boss who introduces his new employee as a “two-fer” as a way of characterizing that the person is both a woman and a person of color; by pointing out her difference rather than what she distinctly brings, it sets her up to be isolated from her peers. And so on. And so on. There is no end to the obstructions our current biased framework creates.
Bias is often get discussed as if it’s about how someone feels, but what’s more insidious is how ideas and one’s capacity to add value are consistently and repeatedly — even systemically — being shot down.
And it’s not just something done to other people. Sometimes, we do it to ourselves.
Research conducted by Christie Smith at Deloitte found that 61 percent of people “cover” at work, masking what makes them distinct, finding ways to fit in rather than bringing forward their originality with their fresh takes and ideas. Noticeably, Smith’s research says it’s not just the traditionally underserved and underseen groups — women, people of color, those in the LGBTQ community, etc. — that “cover”; 45 percent of white men do it, too. It’s a new dad who doesn’t feel comfortable saying that he’d like to spend the first few weeks of his child’s life to bond, and so conforms to “alpha male” expectations. It’s the deeply religious person, who hides their observance in their OOO message and so tries to hide his values and thus himself from his colleagues. It’s the young person who wears glasses he doesn’t need to appear more experienced as if acting out a part rather than being himself.
Those who are screened out as “others” bear the brunt of biased frameworks, but all of us inhabiting lower rungs of power feel bias’s harsh sting.
Not (just) About Personal Power but (also) Social Support
All of this still leaves us with a problem: How does one get beyond bias from others or internalized bias, in order to actually change things up… so that ideas born of onlyness get to count?
Some would suggest a “just do it” approach. After all, when icons like Malcolm Gladwell ignore the bias issue in talking about the role of outliers in innovation, one could easily believe success is just a matter of working harder, of grit, of using one’s voice more effectively. This sounds reasonable until you realize that an overwhelming amount of research shows that there are severe penalties and backlashes for those who speak up when they lack status. For the vast majority of us, to “lean in” is to take on a suicide mission. If not for our careers, certainly to our spirit.
So, how to change things?
Remember when I walked down that family driveway to head to the carboland of donuts? I didn’t know what would happen next. How, after a few days of couch surfing, I would open up to my dean of admissions about what was going on, and that he would so strongly share my belief that education was for all, not just the boys, that he would act on it. I couldn’t foresee how he would endorse me to line up a few flexible jobs on campus: a Friday afternoon accounting gig at the history museum, ushering at the theater on Saturday nights, a programming project in the office of matriculation that could be done in a few hours between classes. How he would vouch for me at the bursar’s office to get me 500 bucks so I could rent a room of my own.
As I claimed what mattered to me, I found the community to whom I belonged. In fact, this community was always there, but it wasn’t until I fully showed up, committed to what turned out to be our shared purpose, that it became clear that they were mine, and I was theirs. We belonged to one another. With them, I wasn’t the silhouette of Indian/woman/Islamic. I was simply myself. My self. I was seen as Nilofer, the one who wanted an education so I could steer the course of my own life.
Changing context changed my capacity to be seen, to be heard. This is how personal agency works — it is the capacity of individuals to act and thereby direct their own life. And this sociology term of agency, despite being called personal, is not just an act of willpower, or a solo act. Agentic capacity is deeply shaped by one’s context, one’s community. Success is talked of as if it’s a lucky mix of talented ideas and hard work. But success is nearly always about the structural and social context into which those ideas are seen and, thus, actualized. With belonging, your ideas can be seen and can grow, and eventually, maybe even become powerful enough to change the world.
What’s New: Only One To Onlyness
A lot has been written about how the internet has revolutionized and democratized ideas. That it offers a “new power.” What is truer is that the internet makes efficient what was once laborious. So that more white males — those who already have most of the power — can make money. It is “newbie” Uber displacing the old taxi industry. Or the “new power” that allows a company like Facebook to have some 500 million people share information (for free) so that one white guy and his mostly white male executives and equally white male corporate board … make fast money while repeatedly apologizing and taking virtually no responsibility for how the platform is destroying our collective democracy.
So, no — the internet has not automatically democratized ideas. That’s just a story being sold.
So what does it do? It enables you to more efficiently structure your surroundings, without changing location. If you’re students at Parkland who have survived a horrific school shooting, you can update the phrase #NeverAgain and expand the national conversation from a little school in Florida, and change a conversation which the NRA has long-controlled. It is the boy scout who is gay who was once so alone in his small city, that he thought he had no power to change the national boy scouts policies, but would. It is the lonely tech developer who thinks his only career path is to find himself working for the man, but instead builds a community for those who equally want to make a living and a life. In other words… The internet allows you to find, bond, and act with your people, those with whom you share a purpose — and it is this set of trusted bonds that matter. Why? Because those relationships offer the scaffolding and structure that enable agency.
And THIS is a new way forward. The reason we, the powerless, can FINALLY make the choice we’ve wanted to make all along.
Research from sociology, psychology, and anthropology has consistently shown that when individuals are in the position of being the “only one” in a group with a different norm, we will be pressured to conform to it. In many respects, conformity is not a choice — but simply a matter of survival. If we have to pick between our ideas and belonging — the most fundamental of human psychological needs — belonging always wins. Every. Darn. Time. But now, thanks to this connectivity to find those who are “yours”, you can be true to yourself, your onlyness, and belong.
This new capacity resolves a tension thousands of years old. Finding, bonding, and acting with your people — this is what matters, this is what’s now new and so widely distributed that it changes what the traditionally powerless can now do. It gives us the social context to live into our onlyness. With shared onlyness, you are never lonely. And that’s why it would be inaccurate to describe this as a “new power” for individuals. It’s actually about a change in structure that offers a “new pathway” so that all originality—or onlyness—can be celebrated.
So let’s try something new.
Whoever surrounds us, affects us. So the answer to being fully ourselves, to offering our onlyness to the world? It is not the symmetrically balanced notion of “you be you,” or the supremely Instagrammable idea of “always be hustling,” but instead, to answer the far more complex, rich, and satisfying question, “To whom do you belong?”
These New Ideas Will Save Us All
People often think it’s OK if an idea gets shot down because that idea will manifest through someone else. But that denies how fresh ideas actually come to change the world. The fact is, you are the only one who sees what you distinctly see. It grows out of your specific blend of history and experience, visions and hopes. Your onlyness.
The wildly creative choreographer Martha Graham once said, “There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and be lost.”
If you’re seen by your the shape and silhouette of the group you belong to, and not as your true and full self, the world will never get what you—and only you—have to offer. And we—your community, your company, and your society— will lose, too. So we need you to find that social context that enlivens you, that gives you space for your ideas to grow and have their proverbial shot.
Those of us who’ve been otherized actually hold the keys to the breakthroughs the world so desperately needs. That’s not an overstatement. Karim R. Lakhani, a Harvard-based open innovation professor, and Lars Bo Jeppesen, of the Copenhagen Business School, did some research, opening up 166 previously-unsolved scientific problems from the research laboratories of 26 firms to over 80,000 independent scientists around the world. The new players were able to solve one-third of the problems that the research laboratories were unable to solve internally. One-third. Those are new solutions that were previously non-existent. And who were these creative innovators? The research described that “social marginality” played an important role in explaining individual success. Nearly 100 percent of the solution creators came from women and other underseen groups, what the researchers described by the comparative language of “left field,” but we could (and would and should) call onlyness. Because we recognize the value of that distinct spot in the world in which each of us stands.
The answers to so many things humanity most needs — from curing cancer or Alzheimer’s, to building livable cities and working societies, to fill-in-the-blank-to-whatever-you-deeply-care-about — are close at hand. But to get those solutions, we need to celebrate the capacity each of us has to add our bit to the world.
So, let’s do it. It might just save us all.