**Brave Learning, Bold Leadership: How Real Conversations Transform Inclusion**
“I’ve lost count of the workshops where the real change didn’t come from a PowerPoint slide, but from the moment someone’s story cracked open the entire room. Leadership isn’t about having the answers; it’s about creating the space where the unsaid can finally breathe.”
There’s a kind of electricity that pulses through a room when difficult truths are spoken openly, and people dare to go beyond surface-level platitudes about culture, belonging, and inclusion. It’s not comfort that moves us—it’s candour mixed with empathy, and the courage to experiment, even (especially) when the stakes feel highest.
That’s the theme underpinning my recent conversation with Joanne Lockwood on her podcast, Inclusion Bites—a show that does the rare thing of making inclusion visceral, uncomfortable and deeply practical. Inclusion Bites, led by Joanne—who brings the gravitas and warmth of a founder, inclusion leader, and passionate advocate—never tiptoes around the real issues. Her work at SEE Change Happen isn’t just about culture statements; it’s about rewriting the unwritten rules that hold teams (and industries) back.
More than [INSERT_VIEW_COUNT] people have already watched our interview on YouTube, with many more tuning in via Spotify and Apple Podcasts.
If this conversation sparks something for you—questions, pushback, or agreement—I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments below. I read every one.
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### Making Inclusion Tangible: The Power of Experiential Learning
The failure of traditional diversity training is not a theoretical debate for me; it’s personal. I’ve spent my career inside organisations where “inclusion” was a tick box rather than a lived reality—and felt, time and again, the weight of the status quo on people who needed true allyship, not just gestures.
Joanne and I quickly cut to this frustration: “The only way we could do that was to create a really safe environment where people felt they could genuinely say what they believe, and to be prepared to be challenged by others,” I reflected. “Okay, yeah, we’re really pleased with that one. It landed well. And you can see from my face we actually really enjoyed doing it as well.”
But enjoyment is a by-product of something more fundamental: relevance. Too often, high-concept inclusion workshops lose their power in translation, especially for frontline and operational staff. With an average reading age of eleven in a recent programme, I knew slides about the Equality Act wouldn’t cut it. We swapped lectures for immersive drama and scenario-based dialogue. People arrived to find themselves “inside the story,” the actors drawing them into a meeting where biases played out with uncomfortable realism. Suddenly, the abstract became personal—team members weren’t discussing “inclusion”, they were reacting to situations built on their own lived experiences.
Joanne nailed the point: “We try to take a two-dimensional story and create rumination, creating firing points in our brains. And that’s where the experiential, the storytelling with interaction, kicks in, isn’t it?” That’s exactly it. A Netflix drama might make you feel, but rarely compels you to act. In the right setting, though, a personal narrative—especially one you’ve helped shape or disrupt—sticks with you long after the handouts are recycled.
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### Learning Isn’t Watching; It’s Wrestling With the Messy Bits
A recurring theme in our exchange: learning happens not when people are told what to do, but when they’re drawn into the ambiguity and discomfort of real situations.
Joanne shared, “Sometimes you walk into the room and you can see people with their arms folded. You know, I don’t want to be here. This is all a bunch of woke nonsense.” Yet, paradoxically, the very people most resistant at the outset often experience the most profound shifts. When the stories are honest—drawn from real tensions, and not painted with corporate brushstrokes—the transformation is palpable. Those initial sceptics, as Joanne observed, “enlighten the rest of the room as to the importance of why we’re here today… and their change is far greater than the change in people who actually get it.”
This isn’t accidental; it’s by design. Our programmes force a kind of productive friction. We don’t just let people sit as spectators. They contribute lines for the actors, challenge assumptions, and—crucially—see their own thought processes played back to them, raw and unfiltered.
We explored why teams attach so tightly to their biases, seeking out only information that reinforces their preconceptions. Technology and the media—especially social media—make these echo chambers even smaller. But when you recreate the “unsafe” conversations in a safe environment, you can surface those prejudices, name them, and negotiate what happens next, together.
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### Allyship, Power, and Challenging Upwards
It’s one thing to speak about allyship for those experiencing overt bias; another to operationalise it at every level of the hierarchy. Joanne pushed me: “Do you find it’s easier to get people in the room when you’re doing the storytelling and role playing, than through traditional training?”
The answer, from experience, is a resounding yes—at every rung, up to the executive suite. Story-based interventions make the abstract painfully concrete: it’s no longer “someone else’s problem.” At the exec level, I centre these sessions on why diversity, equity, and inclusion must be treated as a strategic imperative—not a compliance exercise. Everyone has a role to play, not merely as a “leader” by title, but as an ally with power, able to shape norms and call out what’s silent.
We dove into the perennial tension of “return to office” versus flexibility. For some leaders, their ideal workplace was built on routines dependent on invisible domestic labour. For others, especially those juggling young children or multiple responsibilities, lockdown offered a glimpse of the flexibility long denied them. I conducted focus groups post-lockdown that revealed exactly this split—not ideology, but lived experience. The power to choose—when informed by trust and genuine empathy—enabled people to thrive at work and at home.
As I put it on the show: “It’s a fundamental of flexibility. You trust people to do a great job, you explain the why, and you’re the leader they need in order to be the best they can be. It’s quite simple in my opinion.” Yet, as we see time and again, organisations get stuck offering inflexible, one-size-fits-all answers under the cloak of “culture.” The real task is letting personal and organisational cultures meet, not compete—and ensuring the latter doesn’t extinguish the former.
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### Living Values and Whack-a-Mole Cultures
Culture, as we discussed, is not what gets written on the wall. It’s how people behave when no one’s watching—and especially when someone brave says something that’s hard to hear. In too many rooms, innovation is a stated value until the moment a new idea disrupts the comfort of hierarchy. I likened these cultures to “whack-a-mole” at the fun fair—the moment someone sticks their head up with a novel suggestion, it’s swiftly knocked back by a leader unwilling to engage. The result? A culture of silence and risk-aversion, where the one idea that could pivot an organisation is never spoken aloud.
Joanne and I shared a deep frustration with leaders who prize their own “certainty” above dialogue. “If you tell me the why, I can challenge your why with, huh, how about this? And maybe that’s what people don’t want. They don’t want the debate, do they?” she observed. We both recognised the difference between disagreement and debate grounded in trust. When “the why” is withheld—whether for strategic, practical, or even political reasons—trust is eroded. People need to know their leaders act with integrity, even when complexities can’t be fully shared.
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### Gen Z, Lived Experience, and the Mechanics of Safe Spaces
So much of this comes back to the mechanics of safe spaces—not safety defined by overbearing HR policies, but by the willingness to risk real feelings and authentic challenge. I am keenly aware that banter—so closely tied to belonging in many teams—can become exclusionary or even harmful if left unchecked. In sessions with operational teams, we’ve helped them develop “safe words” for the days when banter crosses the line or simply hits the wrong tone. No shame, no explanations demanded—just a pause and a reset.
Joanne was quick to point out that none of us want to be the “inclusion police.” We want workplaces where people can enjoy the richness of banter and camaraderie without stumbling into harm—where accountability and empathy grow side by side. Calling out stereotypes—even the so-called “benign” ones—matters. I told the story of my husband, Gerry, being typecast as the stingy Scotsman in English pubs: a persistent trope that, while supposedly playful, still stings. When these are left unchallenged, nothing changes.
These micro stories add up to the culture, for better or worse. When people have permission to say, “not cool”, and be heard rather than dismissed or mocked, trust grows. When leaders model self-reflection—“Actually, no, I shouldn’t have said that”—the effect ripples.
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### The Courage to Change and a Life Beyond Checklists
Reflecting on my own career pathway—beginning as a chef in aggressively male-dominated kitchens, transitioning into hospitality management, facilities, and ultimately learning and development—my journey has been marked by impostor syndrome, setbacks, and the critical intervention of leaders who saw potential in me before I saw it in myself.
Critical here is the point that learning isn’t linear and is often catalysed by others’ belief in our capacity. “He recognised that I had something a bit more than just get the coffees in, Pippa, or do this or do that,” I recalled of a key mentor. “He recognised that I had potential and he so challenged me every single time that he gave me insight.”
Too often, organisations cling to checklists or formal credentials (how many of us have “embellished” a qualification for a role we knew we could excel in?). But the real work happens in two zones: in the cultivation of trust between people willing to challenge and support; and in the self-acceptance that comes from finally applying lessons learned, even if the route in was unorthodox.
What does work look like when you no longer crave the approval of the old guard, or let the risk of embarrassment slow you down? For me, the answer came when I took the leap to start my own business, betting on my ability to make workplaces braver, messier, and more genuinely inclusive.
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### Flexibility, Age, and the Future (Not Just of Work, but of Meaning)
Joanne and I found ourselves reflecting on age, retirement, and the shifting contract between employer and employee. The world has changed beyond recognition since I started out—digitally, culturally, demographically. Millennials will soon tip into their fifties, and with a shrinking birth rate, the workforce will skew older than ever. The notion of “retirement” as a decades-long denouement is not only unrealistic for most, but also deeply unsatisfying for many of us who thrive on purpose and learning.
“I couldn’t imagine retiring really… as long as I’m still relevant, I’ll be continuing,” I shared. For me, keeping sharp isn’t just a financial choice. It’s a statement about finding joy, continuing to test boundaries, and remaining useful to the teams and individuals I work with. If work is going to stretch later into life, let it be because we’re energised by it, not trapped by inertia or habit.
And I see the same with those I train, coach, and work beside: people stay animated when there’s room to grow, challenge, and change. Burnout isn’t just about hours worked, but about staleness—going through the motions without meaning or recognition.
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### Trust the Composting
Throughout this conversation, the idea that resonated strongest for me was the permission to trust our process—even when it looks idiosyncratic to others. I call it “composting”: letting ideas stew, combining old learning with new, and drawing on lived experience until the right answer bubbles up.
Whether you reflect before acting, or tinker as you go, the vital thing is to move from insight to activation. That, ultimately, is the test of inclusion—for a session, a team, an organisation, or a life: Are we prepared to sit with discomfort, draw in a bigger circle, and let ourselves and others change?
The brave leader, I’ve realised, is not the one who shouts loudest, but the one who makes bravery contagious. I want to enable that in every space I influence: a legacy not of impeccable knowledge, but of courage shared.
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If something in this journey speaks to you—a challenge you’re facing, a story you want to share—I invite you to add your voice below. Change is always collaborative. And as long as there is someone willing to share honestly and another person brave enough to listen, there’s no ceiling on what we can build together.