One of my favourite leadership roles has been one where I was appointed with a remit that included (but wasn’t limited to) bringing my lived experience of disability and neurodivergence to the table. It wasn’t my only responsibility, and my expertise was recognised as going well beyond my lived experience, but its value and opportunity for impact were made clear.
While I’ve embraced and been challenged by how my lived experience cascades through various roles, this position was slightly different. It came with an explicit invitation to challenge and was accompanied by a space that prioritised respect and safety collectively.
Reflecting on that role, I’ve considered some of the value and challenges of bringing marginalised lived experiences to leadership roles, as well as what can help to create space for lived experience presence and perspectives.
Value
Different lived experiences allow for different perspectives on impact, value, risk, harm, sustainability, and other factors across evidence-based practice and decision-making. In libraries, I’ve seen openness about lived experience in leadership create space and support for honest conversations with teams, direct reports, and mentees. This is especially true on topics like risk and psychological safety, which are a priority and topical.
Who gets to define safety and who is asked to tolerate risk is based on cultural norms. As such, I’ve found it valuable to observe how different experiences challenge or diverge from long-standing norms around inclusion, risk, and safety.
I still remember the relief I experienced with a mentor who had shared lived experience. As a queer person and LIS professional who had only just started coming out as I stepped into new leadership roles, there was a level of shared understanding (especially when it came to microaggressions and fears) that I needed at the time.
Challenges
While I love sharing and hearing about different lived experiences, this isn’t without the risk of harm. Microaggressions or inappropriate reactions can indicate that a space isn’t ready for lived experience perspectives. For me, this means finding different ways of showing up, albeit without my usual spark and energy. This is the type of challenge that compromises wellbeing, risks being internalised, and has a cumulative effect for marginalised individuals.
I also factor in that one person’s experience doesn’t represent an entire community, which can be a constructive type of challenge to engage with. I often consider how my experiences and insights are situated through a community-focused lens, alongside other evidence. This helps me to challenge my personal biases, while still bringing my own perspective to decisions and discussions.
Creating space
I’ve thankfully had many positive experiences; though I have at times, like many disabled and neurodivergent people, navigated microaggressions that played into tropes and implicit biases. Some were mildly frustrating or amusing, but others hit hard and were painful. The latter are the type that cut to the heart and dignity, undermining perceptions of competence and leadership.
As Cox describes in an article on why so few leaders disclose disability, you may be considered inspirational, but being considered equally competent is rare.
Sharing or being open about lived experience often requires vulnerability, risk, and additional labour. Safety, trust, and respect can make a difference.
Safety and trust can create space for complexity and nuance and an appreciation for different ways of understanding, experiencing, and explaining the world. They also allow for discomfort, challenge, and candour. This does, however, require an intentional leadership practice. That is, one that embodies principles of equity and inclusion and disrupts or challenges narratives that perpetuate inequities in the systems we exist in.