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Fellow inclusion and belonging facilitators, I am begging y’all – please stop using the iceberg metaphor in your DEI workshops. Whether intentionally or not, you are communicating to your audience that those unseen aspects of ourselves, which lie out of sight below the water, are potentially dangerous. A better visual metaphor is prairie grass.
Iceberg as Visual Metaphor Of particular note, Freud (yes, that Freud) is the one who gave us the iceberg as a visual metaphor to understand the conscious, preconscious, and unconscious minds. He mapped onto the iceberg the conscious mind (thoughts and perceptions) above the waterline, preconscious mind (memory and knowledge) just below the waterline where light still penetrates, and unconscious mind (instincts and fears) deep in the darkness below the waterline. As with any novel metaphor, Freud’s use of the iceberg evolved over time into the trite visual aid we see today in too many DEI workshop spaces. As anyone who’s watched Titanic knows, the danger posed by icebergs lies below the water’s surface (where Freud's unconscious mind with its fears is located) with a small piece jutting visibly above the ocean’s choppy plane. In many DEI workshops, facilitators ask participants to map onto a blank iceberg those visible parts of themselves onto the smaller part of the iceberg above the waterline. These observable parts often include race, (apparent) gender, actions, language, style, profession, etc. Then facilitators ask participants to map the invisible, the unknown parts of themselves onto the larger below the water portion of the iceberg. These unobservable parts can include age, disability, religion, culture, sexual orientation, morals and values, etc. By mapping these invisible parts of ourselves, which are meaningful and impactful aspects of who we are, facilitators are intentionally or unintentionally communicating to their workshop participants that these unseen parts of our identities pose a risk to the safety of others and are potentially dangerous. Prairie Grass as a More Meaningful Metaphor A better metaphor for the seen and unseen aspects of our identities is prairie grass. Prairie grass is often as tall above ground as it is deeply rooted below ground – creating a mirror, showing the visible and invisible as equally meaningful and impactful. Unlike the grass in your front (or back) lawn, which has shallow, superficial root systems, prairie grass’s roots reach deep into the earth, grounding each stalk, allowing it to grow equally as high into the air. We can still map the visible and invisible parts of our identities onto prairie grass with the stalks representing what others can easily observe about us and the roots demonstrating what is unobservable to others. And the roots are the key to this new metaphor. Unlike the solitary iceberg floating alone in the ocean, prairie grass roots reach out to each other, interlocking, creating stability and community. The interconnected roots communicate that no one is a lone reed (yes, I am referencing You’ve Got Mail), that we exist in community. We gain strength and nourishment from these unobserved parts of ourselves. And these unobserved parts of ourselves are not dangerous, but instead they ground us and offer opportunities to more deeply connect with those around us. Prairie grass’s stalks and roots work collaboratively to sustain the whole plant – and no part (consciously or unconsciously) of the anatomy of prairie grass (as metaphor) communicates the unseen parts of ourselves are dangerous. Thank you very much for your time and consideration. If you have questions, curiosities, or are interested in learning more about inclusion and leadership possibilities for yourself or your organization, please fill out this nifty contact form. Sending y’all supportive, well-caffeinated vibes, Creighton Today’s Pen(cil): My-Pal 2020 | Jumbo Round | 2B Graphite | Musgrave Pencil Company | Shelbyville, Tennessee
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Welcome to Rough-Draft Thinking, a blog where I will reflect on the inclusion media and ideas I consume and my experiences as a queer educator, consultant, and engaged community member living, working, and dog-walking in the Red River Valley.
I chose to title my blog Rough-Draft Thinking, a phrase I’ve used with students, friends, and family for years, because it creates space for initial, unpolished thoughts. Rough-draft thinking leaves open the possibility of learning and growth through revision of perspectives and ideas. Rough-draft thinking relies on curiosity over judgment, on closely and actively listening to others. (Yes, like many of you, I’m also drawn to the lesson in that particular Ted Lasso scene.) As a former college educator, I encouraged curiosity over judgment, though I didn’t realize it at the time. When I started teaching in the English Department at the University of Kansas, I made the decision to comment on rough-draft student essays in pencil rather than pen or cumbersome Microsoft Word comments. I liked physically holding my students’ ideas in my hands. I liked responding as a reader in marginal comments and writing a quick supportive endnote to each student in pencil. I like the pretense of impermanence graphite offers. Graphite’s erasability quietly connotes that writing (and learning) is a process, requiring revision, further development of ideas – reminding students nothing is fixed permanently in place. And most mistakes are fixable, are opportunities to exercise curiosity, learn, and grow. By commenting on student rough-drafts in pencil, I also encouraged progress over perfection and practice is the point. Though, as a recovering perfectionist, I occasionally have to remind myself about the importance of celebrating progress and honoring the experience of practice, so I draft posts or outline projects in pencil, first, before committing them to the digital spaces. (For those curious, my favorite pencil for writing is the Musgrave Tennessee Red.) As an organizational learning partner, I actively incorporated curiosity over judgment, progress over perfection, and practice is the point into every workshop I created and during every one-on-one coaching session. And now I bring these lessons into my work as an inclusion and leadership consultant. My goals for Rough-Draft Thinking are to:
Thank you very much for your time and for joining me on this adventure! And I cannot wait to start a conversation with y’all! Sending y'all supportive, well-caffeinated vibes, Creighton Today's Pen(cil): 602 | Firm & Smooth Graphite | "Half the pressure, twice the speed" | Blackwing | Stockton, California |
ConnectIf you're interested in learning more about inclusion & leadership solutions for yourself or your organization, please fill out this nifty contact form, and I'll respond within 72 hours. Archives
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