Last night I had the pleasure of joining The Inclusion Circle’s end-of-year event to speak about Building Leader Courage & Curiosity. Being surrounded by peers who are equally committed to inclusion reminded me of the power of collective learning. I wanted to share my reflections beyond the room because I believe in lifting our field together. By contributing our insights openly, we strengthen the DEI practitioner community and accelerate the impact we can make.
Learn more about our Inclusive Leadership Training.
"I would like to begin by acknowledging the Gadigal people of the Eora Nation, the traditional custodians of the land on which we meet today. I pay my respects to their Elders past and present and extend that respect to any Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people here with us today.
Mid-career, I had the opportunity to study anthropology, which many of you would know is the study of cultures. That experience deepened my awe and respect for First Nations people, the world's oldest living cultures. What a tremendous display of resilience, and what profound wisdom they hold.
Hello everyone. It's wonderful to be in a room full of people who have chosen one of the most courageous professions—because DEI is not for the faint-hearted. We are the ones who walk into rooms to deliver presentations knowing some of the audience don't care, are silent or loud objectors, or undervalue our expertise.
We are also the ones who, although experts, can't possibly know it all, take risks and sometimes make mistakes but lean into that without defensiveness and admit when we've got it wrong.
We sit regularly with people's fears, frustrations, hopes – and sometimes their pain.
We absorb backlash and still show up the next morning because we care about people, and we care about the organisations we serve.
And most of us, if not all of us, have lived experience of marginalisation, some with intersecting identities, and yet we bravely stand in front of those with greater privilege and challenge them to disrupt power structures and systems at great personal and professional risk and cost to our mental health and wellbeing.
But as DEI practitioners, we're not just courageous, we're also deeply curious. We're open to learning. We're willing to say, "I don't know what I don't know but I want to learn." And I also want to recognise that in you.
Courage and curiosity are core capabilities of a DEI practitioner and they are also necessary for executive and senior leadership engagement and sponsorship of this work.
So today I thought I'd share with you how I cultivate those capabilities in leaders – especially in environments where there is resistance and backlash. More specifically, how I use quantitative data alongside deeply human qualitative insight – the stories that change minds, shift behaviours, and ultimately reshape systems.
We're all familiar with the mantra: "What gets measured gets done." We've worked hard to build systems to measure and track DEI because we know that transparency is necessary for progress. The 2024–2025 WGEA results show us just how important data and transparency are. We can see clear signs of movement: more organisations are scrutinising their systems, the gender pay gap is narrowing, even if slowly, and DEI has shifted from "nice to have" to "you will be explaining this to your Board." So the data is doing what's it meant to do: it's shining a light, it's creating pressure, it's sharpening the conversation.
But the same results also show us that gender pay gaps remain stubborn, and under-representation in leadership persists. Yes, transparency has created pressure. Yes, it has put DEI on the governance agenda. But it hasn't shifted systems, mindsets and behaviours anywhere near the pace we need.
Quantitative measurement is essential. It earns us the right to be heard. But we need something more if we want to actually change minds. In my work with boards and executives, I learned the answer to real change lies in humanising the data through storytelling.
Data opens the door but stories walk leaders through it. And qualitative insight – real human voice – is what keeps them in the room.
That's what DEI needs most now: Not just the science of measurement, but the science of meaning. Not just the dashboard, but the dialogue. Not just the metrics, but the mindset.
Data effectively depersonalizes barriers and highlights systemic issues. It can also surface critical gaps in understanding and biases that might otherwise remain unseen. It stimulates the analytical parts of the brain, prompting rational analysis. However, it often fails to ignite the emotional connection essential for deep-seated behavioural and systemic change.
Data might help leaders understand, but it doesn't necessarily make them care. And understanding alone is insufficient to move leaders from apathy or disengaged, or to persist when faced with resistance. Understanding alone does not prompt the deep levels of commitment and motivation to persist in the face of backlash or fear of getting it wrong. For meaningful impact, leaders must care deeply enough to drive changes to systems, accountability, and mindsets, and to persist through resistance.
This is why storytelling is critical.
Storytelling– sharing real lived human experiences of marginalisation within an organisation – activates the brain differently to quantitative data. Stories activate emotional, sensory, and motor regions of the brain, creating what's called "neural coupling" between storyteller and listener. They also trigger the release of oxytocin – the 'bonding hormone' – which fosters trust and empathy. This means leaders don't just understand a story – they experience it, internally, forging a deeper connection and making the information more memorable and impactful. And, once they feel something, it motivates them in a way that quantitative doesn't.
Data activates the mind. Story activates the heart. And we need both. Our job now, more than ever, is to humanise the data – to move beyond the numbers. Our job is to bring the numbers to life by bringing peoples experiences to life.
Some years ago now, I was invited into a major Australian bank. Their engagement scores in one department were trending down, and psychological safety scores for particular cohorts were alarmingly low.
Partnering with the business partner, we started from a place of curiosity. We wanted to understand the lived experience behind them. So we began a programme of employee listening, running trauma-informed focus groups across the department to gather qualitative insights. We de-identified those stories, looked for patterns, and reported them back thematically to department leadership using de-identified stories to bring the themes of lived experiences to life.
The initial emotional reaction of the head of the department was one of shock and discomfort, a natural tendency to resist data that challenges their own perceptions and experiences. But these stories were too raw and personal to ignore or rationalise away. Once that discomfort settled and they truly sat with it for a moment, these emotions also unlocked a powerful sense of curiosity and courage. The leader recognised the gravity of the situation, stating, "If this is what people are experiencing, we can't stop here. We need to share these stories with the wider leadership cohort and we need to understand how we can change to produce a different lived experience."
We designed and facilitated an inclusive leadership session and I introduced what I've coined the "Feel the Need" exercise to take this emotional learning to the broader leader cohort.
"Feel the Need" is deceptively simple. Leaders are given short, de-identified phrases and stories taken from the listening circles. They read these stories out loud, in their own voices, to a room of their peers. We don't ask them to fix anything at that point. We ask them to notice their emotional response before they rush to problem-solve. To sit with the discomfort. To sense what their people might be feeling. To slow down long enough to actually connect.
As the leaders at this bank read the stories aloud, the atmosphere in the room visibly shifted. Initially, there was an awkward discomfort, marked by initial resistance and nervous energy. This gradually gave way to a reflective quiet, as a sober, thoughtful atmosphere emerged. Then came moments of genuine surprise, leading to new understandings and realisations. Finally, many expressed a constructive regret, saying, "I genuinely didn't realise," signalling an openness to change and a willingness to move forward.
What was happening, in neuroscientific terms, was that we were moving them out of either an apathetic response — where leaders were not engaged, or a threat response – where the amygdala is activated, and people defend, minimise, or argue – and into a more reflective state, where the prefrontal cortex is online. Their nervous systems shifted from being disengaged or braced for attack, to being open to learning.
In that moment, the room moved from defensiveness to curiosity, from certainty to humility, from compliance to accountability. That was the unlock. Because leadership change rarely starts with data. It starts with an emotional shift.
Since then, I've replicated that exercise across industries – mining, financial services, councils, professional services – and the pattern is remarkably consistent. Leaders don't change because of DEI dashboards. They change because of connection. And leaders trust the data more when they've heard and felt through reading others' stories, the human experience behind it.
One of the greatest compliments I've received a client came two years after delivering that programme. The HR business partner, who had since moved on to another organisation, reconnected via an email in which she noted: "Felicity. I remembered the work we did together and how well it was received by the participants. I had feedback, two years on from the programme, that it was the best inclusion training that was done in and was still talked about!"
Two years on. Why? Because the work wasn't just "DEI training." It was humanisation. We created a space where leaders could hear the voice behind the numbers. We used data to open the conversation. We used storytelling to deepen it. We used vulnerability to transform it.
When leaders genuinely engage with people’s stories, it can be transformative. As they take the perspective of others, they are better able to imagine the impact—fully recognising the real-world consequences of their own actions, the actions of others, and broader systemic factors on individuals whose backgrounds and experiences differ from their own.
This understanding triggers empathy, creating a deeper emotional connection to the lived realities and distress caused by marginalisation.
From this empathy comes motivation—a natural human desire to alleviate that distress.
This motivation fuels curiosity, prompting leaders to investigate root causes, seek out solutions, and take responsibility for understanding the problem more deeply and, reflecting on what a more inclusive future could look like and exploring innovative possibilities.
Emotional connection, clarity, and insight, in turn, strengthen accountability—moving beyond awareness into meaningful ownership and accountability for sustained behaviour change and advocacy.
In short, Data tells leaders what is happening. Stories reveal why it matters, which sparks curiosity, helps them explore what might be possible next, and commitment to change.
Let me share some of the stories that I've shared to engage leaders:
Consider the emerging woman leader at a large Commonwealth agency who shared with me that during COVID lockdowns when she was required to work from home, she had resorted to taking phone calls and video calls under her bed. In the office, fear of being perceived as less committed or less ambitious because she had young children, meant she had masked or covered that she was a mother, and so being sent home where she had young children in the background created a risk they would be heard. Under her bed was the quietest place.
Consider the stories of employees with disabilities who have shared the immense mental burden of navigating the workplace with a disability. From managing accommodations to confronting biases, the constant need to advocate for themselves while performing their roles leaves them exhausted and overwhelmed. In their own words:
"It feels like I’m constantly fighting battles I shouldn’t have to fight, just to have a fair chance at doing my job."
“I’m always having to educate people about my disability, on top of doing my job, and it’s mentally draining to have to explain and justify myself repeatedly.”
“The effort to keep up with expectations while constantly asking for accommodations feels like I’m fighting a battle every day.”
“It’s exhausting to always be on guard, anticipating discrimination or pushback whenever I request something as simple as a flexible schedule.”
“I can’t just focus on my work – I’m also navigating policies, approvals, and attitudes that constantly remind me I’m different.”
Consider the white male from New Zealand in a senior role, perhaps not someone typically considered a primary focus of DEI efforts, but who shared that he often holds back in meetings due to the repeated mocking of his accent by Australian colleagues. Although he had valuable insights to offer, it was exhausting and demoralising assimilating to dominant linquistic norms.
Consider the experience of a woman leader of Indian ancestry who, despite 15 years with her employer, was frequently mistaken for other women of Indian ancestry, making her feel invisible and undervalued.
Consider the experience of a woman lawyer from a socioeconomically disadvantaged background who shared that during her final round of graduate interviews with a major firm involving a social gathering with partners, the conversation turned to where everyone was skiing this year and their favourite European or North American slopes. She immediately felt awkward, unseen and marginalised and was concerned she wouldn't belong or succeed at that firm and so declined an offer of employment.
Consider the Aboriginal employees who have recounted instances of colleagues making racist jokes about First Nations people, unaware of their First Nations heritage, or being told they "don't look Aboriginal" or asked "how Aboriginal are you?"
These are not isolated incidents. Collectively, we’ve heard thousands of stories illustrating the profound impact of discrimination, exclusion, and marginalisation in our workplaces. These experiences not only harm individuals but actively prevent them from thriving, bringing their whole selves to work, and contributing their full talent and perspectives. But these stories are also what can engage leaders in ways that dashboards can't.
I often use a simple four-step structure when working with leaders.
-
First, I start with the spark—a concise data point, such as "Only 35% of women in your division feel safe speaking up."
-
Then I add the story—the lived experience behind that number. For example, sharing a real voice: "I'm often the only woman in the room and this makes me self-conscious. I often have something I want to say, but I hold back because I've been previously criticised for being too assertive."
-
Next comes the shift—linking it to business impact: "When people stop speaking up, innovation drops, risks go unchallenged, and disengagement and turnover increases because people don't feel valued."
-
Finally, the call—inviting leaders into solution-building with a question like: "What would it take for every woman in your division to feel safe enough to challenge openly?"
This structure disarms defensiveness and activates curiosity. It moves leaders from protecting their ego to protecting their people. It shifts the conversation from them as the problem to them as the architects of change.
The best way to get people to change is to engage them in solutions, not to chastise them for the problem. This strengthen-based approach empowers and motivates leaders to create change in themselves, others and their organisations.
As I wrap up, I want to additionally callout that while this can be a powerful intervention, it also comes with risks to those we are seeking to support.
In focus groups, people don't give you "data". They give you themselves. And that comes with risk. Listening spaces can unintentionally trigger trauma, resurface old harms, or leave people feeling exposed. Organisations have a legal and ethical responsibility to minimise the risk of harm.
We can meet those obligations through running focus groups using trauma-informed practice and principles.
Trauma-informed focus groups apply principles that minimise distress and promote healing: safety and choice, clear boundaries and confidentiality, attention to power and cultural dynamics, pacing and containment, and closing with agency and support.
When we honour these principles, we don't just get "richer data". We uphold dignity. We build trust. We signal that people's wellbeing matters more than our report. And the insights we gather are more honest, more nuanced, and ultimately more useful in shaping real change.
So, to summarise. Here's what I've learned about leaders after years of listening deeply: Most leaders are not "resistant". They are afraid. Afraid of getting it wrong. Afraid of saying the wrong thing. Afraid of being judged. Afraid of being exposed as uncaring or out of touch. Afraid that DEI will reveal something about their character. They're also often afraid of being challenged and not having the language, the nuance, or the expertise to defend their position in a complex space. Some may even be afraid about their own place in a changing workplace.
Quantitative data – used well – gives them safety. It frames DEI as a shared problem to solve, not a personal accusation; qualitative insight through story telling gives them connection, inviting them to care. And the combination gives them courage.
The journey from insight to action begins with data, which opens the mind by bypassing defensiveness and activating logic. This is followed by story, which opens the heart, activating empathy, trust, and shared humanity. From there, curiosity opens the door, creating possibility as questions replace excuses. Ultimately, courage turns insight into action, activating accountability and commitment.
This is how culture shifts. Not through reporting alone. Not through dashboards alone. But through dialogue – evidence plus emotion, symbols plus signals, patterns plus people.
DEI progress is slow because we are changing behaviour, not just policies. We are rewiring old norms, old habits, old power structures, old mental models, and old fear-based leadership conditioning. Data gives leaders the push. Stories give them the pull. When you give leaders both, they eventually step forward.
I want to close with this: Our work requires discipline, patience, and an extraordinary amount of emotional labour. We stand in the tension between what is and what could be. But every time you humanise a piece of data… every time you hold space for someone to share their truth… every time you help a leader shift from fear to curiosity… every time someone says, "I didn't know. And now I want to understand." —you change the system, even if it's only by a degree.
Because when leaders stay curious, they stay open. When they stay open, they stay teachable. And when they stay teachable, they stay willing to change. And that — more than any dashboard — is how cultures transform."
With thanks, Felicity