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Dolly ChughA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Chugh starts Chapter 8 with a personal anecdote about her straight white PhD advisor, Max Bazerman. Max practiced inclusivity by inviting Chugh to professional events, respecting her voice and personal needs, approaching their collaborations in an equitable manner, and publicly giving her credit when questions arose about their joint research. Max was warm and professional in his interactions with Chugh. He also included her in dinners usually reserved for senior academics.
Chugh interweaves a discussion of diversity and inclusion with the anecdote about Max to explain the differences between the two concepts. She describes diversity as a gateway (to a school, an organization, or a community)—the intentional decision points that can be tracked by and captured in statistics identifying sex, gender, race, ethnicity, and sexual orientation, among other information. By contrast, inclusion is like a pathway that formally brings diverse people into a group through a series of moments that shape their experience. For Chugh, graduate school was a gateway, while Max built inclusion through small, ongoing acts on her pathway through graduate school. Inclusivity helps combat headwinds women and people of color face in their lives and careers by enhancing opportunities and fostering a sense of belonging.
Inclusivity can take many forms. For example, including women and minorities in meetings, honoring space for them to speak, and giving rather than taking credit for their ideas are ways of promoting inclusivity in the workplace. Being aware and observant is critical to fostering inclusivity. This might include paying attention to those who interrupt as well as those who are interrupted, and being attentive to the seating arrangement in a meeting. Studies reveal that people tend to be more attentive to the voices of white men (179). Thus, intentionally making space for the non-white, non-male voices in a room is key to becoming a better listener and promoting inclusivity.
Chapter 9 opens with a discussion of storytelling, a human impulse that begins in infancy. Shaping narratives that promote social justice happens at a microlevel with friends, family, and colleagues, in person or online. On a macrolevel, storytelling can take the form of films, music, and lectures. Lin-Manuel Miranda and Thomas Kail, for example, told the story of the United States Founding Fathers to Broadway audiences with their hit musical, Hamilton. Rather than presenting white men as the sole heroes who formed the US as a country, however, Miranda and Kail emphasized the contributions of women and enslaved people. The show was inclusive not just in terms of its plot but also its casting, which featured people of color playing the Founding Fathers and most of the soldiers in the Revolutionary War, forcing the audience to see and take note of them. The show steered conversations by centering the voices of those who are typically not heard. Rather than presenting the US as a nation built solely by white men, Miranda and Kail upended the conventional narrative through nontraditional casting, which emphasized the role of enslaved Black people in founding the country and alluded to their forced labor that built the US economy and the nation’s infrastructure, including literally building the White House:
Their work was unpaid and the execution of their duties was mandated by either expectation or enslavement. None of this work is represented in the narrative of who founded and built America. Rather, we exalt those who lived in the White House while ignoring the slaves who literally built [it] (186).
Similarly, Miranda and Kail stressed women’s role in constructing the country by casting them as revolutionary soldiers, emphasizing their equal contributions by dressing them in the same costumes as the men.
Other types of media have similar opportunities to steer conversations and drive social change, including news outlets, books, and radio shows. Exemplary in this regard is Musekeweya, a radio soap opera that helped quell ethnic violence by telling the story of an interethnic romance in Rwanda, where the Hutu killed 800,000 Tutsis between 1994 and 1995 (189). Although the show did not change every listener’s perspective, it altered misconceptions of listeners from each group about what the other group believed. In other words, it steered conversations. Using this example, Chugh demonstrates that narratives can have real-world consequences and, as in this case, can mean the difference between life and death.
Underrepresentation is a problem across different types of media, a point Chugh made in Chapter 1 with her discussion of Project Greenlight. Straight, white men are overrepresented, while creators from marginalized communities struggle to find producers and investors for their projects. Supporting underrepresented voices can combat these inequities. This might include preordering books and supporting films or television series by underrepresented authors and creatives. Chugh cites studies to help readers understand just how homogenous the media is. In a study of 122 children’s films released between 2006 and 2009, for instance, the Geena Davis Institute on Gender in Media found that only 29% of the 5,554 distinct speaking characters were female, and 71% were male (194). Equally disproportionate was how women were represented in these films: “24 percent of the females shown were in sexy, tight, or alluring clothing” (194). The overrepresentation of men extends to nonacting roles as well. According to the same study, only “7 percent of the directors, 13 percent of the writers, and 20 percent of the producers of these films were female” (194). These findings are particularly impactful because the films target children and impact their still-developing worldview. Indeed, studies show that stories are extremely important to human development. According to researchers, humans begin crafting narratives as babies, finding connections between simple shapes (183). Stories are so integral to humans as a species that some scholars call humans the “storytelling primate” (183).
The media landscape has changed dramatically in past decades, making it easier to produce and consume hyper-targeted media. Chugh argues that the onus is on parents to counter prevailing media narratives. The stories parents tell, and those they leave out, shape how children understand the world. Parents must steer conversations and discuss race, privilege, unconscious bias, and other difficult subjects with their children. Conversations in the home can counterbalance underrepresentation and revisionist narratives in the media. Expanding our social circles can also promote inclusivity, as can speaking with friends who hold biased views. Engaging with issues of diversity and inclusion on social media, including Black Twitter, offers other opportunities to learn and steer the narrative. Finally, challenging problematic norms, such as the idea of a “good fit” (which Chugh calls code for “like us”), in professional contexts can combat unconscious biases in the workplace. Individuals have limited influence. However, Chugh believes that individual efforts can have a ripple effect and lead to consequential changes.
Chugh starts Chapter 10 with a story about losing her temper after a guest made an anti-gay joke at her wedding. Afterward, Chugh felt guilty for dampening the mood and making people feel uncomfortable, but she uses this anecdote to emphasize the importance of speaking up, rather than being a silent bystander. Research reveals that speaking up against inequality can impact future behavior by changing social norms (206). Determining the malleability of a person’s mindset is key to deciding whether to speak up. Chugh recommends using the 20/60/20 rule to decide who to approach: 20% of people are receptive to change, 20% are resistant to change, and 60% can be swayed by either group. Builders can make the biggest impact by focusing on the middle 60%. How builders approach people, however, is as important as who they approach. Creating psychological safety for the people being called out can make them more receptive to change, as can humor and making one’s growth mindset visible to others. Focusing on facts and humanizing the people being harmed is also key. Builders must also choose the best moment to speak up. Calling someone out publicly often results in shame, making people less receptive to new ideas. Chugh asserts that private conversations are generally more productive.
Chapter 10 concludes with three case studies. The first describes David, a straight white man who remains silent when a client makes sexist remarks. Afterward, a female colleague discusses how he might have spoken up without jeopardizing the professional relationship, namely, by pointing out that he and his female colleague have the same role on their team, and by emphasizing that they would both be handling the client’s project. David later becomes an advocate for gender equity in his company, largely by keeping lines of communication open. The second case study focuses on Bassey Ikpi, a straight, Black woman who advocates for gay rights in her community through educational outreach. Bassey uses her own learning experiences to motivate others to learn. She also makes the issues personally relevant to the people she is trying to educate. The third case study centers on Jessie Spellman, a white business school student who speaks up when a friend uses a racial slur. After pulling her friend aside and reminding her of her love, Jessie focuses on facts, discussing the etymology of the slur to persuade her friend not to use it. Being a builder requires taking interpersonal risks. An openness about being a work in progress, however, helps others adopt a growth mindset.
Chapter 11 begins with an anecdote about Rabbi Eric Solomon and Imam Mohammed Baianonie. Prior to his installation ceremony at the Beth Meyer Synagogue in Raleigh, North Carolina, Rabbi Solomon reaches out to Imam Baianonie to discuss how to forge ties between their communities, and the two eventually become friends, spending “time getting to know each other over tea and biscuits” (225). Imam Baianonie even attends Rabbi Solomon’s installation, bringing with him members of his congregation. Members of the rabbi’s congregation are initially surprised to see Muslims in their synagogue, but soon “[melt] into hospitality” (225). As the relationship between Rabbi Solomon and Imam Baianonie grows over the years, so too do the connections between their communities. The two leaders and their congregations demonstrate the effectiveness of dialogue and activating the growth mindset.
Research shows that intergroup contact can reduce prejudice by eliminating echo chambers (226). However, some people fear appearing prejudiced when they interact with people who are different from themselves. Instead of focusing on not seeming prejudiced, Chugh suggests enjoying the experience of intercultural exchange. For his part, Rabbi Solomon recommends approaching these exchanges with an open heart, curiosity, and a willingness to listen. Rabbi Solomon also warns that intercultural exchange can be uncomfortable. Being a builder is work and does not always lead to affirmation. However, doing this work is critical because bias seriously impacts the lives of racial minorities, as evidenced by numerous health and mental wellness studies (228).
Chapter 11 revisits the book’s introductory anecdote—the story of Rachel Hurnyak, who feared having to put her feelings aside to accommodate her straight colleagues after the Pulse nightclub shooting. Chugh asks Rachel for an example from her own life of a way someone could show support without requiring Rachel to perform the work of affirmation. Rachel describes receiving an email from Ben Schwarzbach, an old acquaintance from business school. Ben reached out after the audio of Donald Trump bragging about assaulting women to Access Hollywood’s Billy Bush became public in 2016. Ben remembered hearing Rachel speak at an LGBTQ event in business school, where she discussed being sexually assaulted. Although Ben did not know Rachel well, he sensed she might need support as a victim of unwanted touching. He emailed Rachel to check in, specifying that he did not expect a response. Rachel sent him an appreciative note. Support might come in the form of an email like Ben’s, or it might simply involve sitting with someone else’s pain without trying to solve it like a problem. Ben’s actions were exemplary because he shed all four modes of good intentions. He did not behave like a savior, he did not center his experiences and emotions, he acknowledged that his experiences were not the same as Rachel’s, and he did not rely on stereotypes to make his point. In addition to supporting individuals, as Ben did, builders can also support causes. This support can take the form of demonstrations like sit-ins and marches. Being a good person takes work and can take different forms, ranging from radical to tempered. Chugh believes there is no single right way to be a builder. The only wrong approach is to be satisfied with being a believer.
In The Person You Mean to Be, Chugh follows a classic self-help structure by first defining for readers the “what”—the problem to be addressed. She uses anecdotes, statistics, and studies to explain “why” it occurs. In Part 4, “Builders Engage,” Chugh arrives at the final element, “how” the problem can be addressed, by providing a succinct series of actions readers can take to shift from being believers to being builders, the central arc of the book. Using anecdotes and case studies, ranging from a rabbi to a business student, Chugh not only demonstrates that there are myriad ways of being a builder, but also offers readers examples of building from different contexts. For example, readers with an interest in media, including, theater, film, television, news, radio, and books, might draw inspiration from the hit Broadway show, Hamilton, which prompted thousands of theatergoers to rethink the birth of the United States or the radio soap opera, Musekeweya, which conveys the power of narrative and its ability to affect social change. By including examples like these from a variety of fields and industries, Chugh herself exemplifies the very work of building by elevating and amplifying the work of marginalized voices. Her discussion of Hamilton might inspire readers to seek out other stories created by, and amplifying, underrepresented perspectives. This support she is practicing can, in turn, increase diversity in the media, a field dominated by straight white men.
In Chapter 9, Chugh circles back to Project Greenlight to emphasize the homogeneity of the American media. Structurally, revisiting Project Greenlight not only allows readers to expand their understanding of underrepresentation in the media, but also lends cohesiveness to Chugh’s book. It gives readers the feeling of arrival at a full-circle moment, encouraging them to make connections across each section of Chugh’s book, which in turn helps promote trust in the author and the veracity of her ideas. Similarly, . In the Introduction, Chugh focuses on Rachel’s grief over the Pulse nightclub shooting in Orlando, and her fears that her non-LGBTQ coworkers will look to her for affirmation rather than providing needed support. Chugh opens with a clear example of the “what”—the problem Chugh will address in her book. Chugh closes Chapter 11 with an additional portion of the story—an instance of someone in Rachel’s life acting as a builder, providing the support she needed. Chugh uses a structural progression to bring readers through the full arc—from the “what” of her argument, through the “why,” and finishing with the “how.”
The final anecdote of Ben and Rachel allows Chugh to touch on each of her central points in quick succession: Ben supported Rachel, centered her feelings instead of his own, and offered his support at a time when she needed it most, anticipating that Rachel might feel vulnerable after the Donald Trump audio was made public. Chugh presents Ben as a builder who avoids the four otherizing modes of behaviors. As a straight white man, he exemplifies how ordinary privilege can be used to aid others: “Ben had spent time educating himself […] He was growing. He saw his ordinary privilege and was willing to use it on [Rachel’s] behalf. He did not look away when it was hard to watch. And he engaged” (233). Even Chugh’s description of Ben uses language mirroring the title of her concluding section: “Builders Engage.”
Consistent with her style of argument throughout the book, Chugh uses metaphor as a key rhetorical tool in this final section for her discussion of diversity and inclusion as gateways and pathways respectively. The accessibility and understanding that a strong metaphor provides are particularly effective here because, as Chugh notes, the terms are often used interchangeably even though there are important distinctions. It also allows Chugh to get specific and unpack specific facets of diversity and inclusion: “Gateways are about diversity. Pathways are about inclusion. Gateways are about numbers. Pathways are about behaviors. Gateways are governed by the few. Pathways pertain to us all” (181). Chugh grounds the metaphor in an additional rhetorical device, personal anecdote, describing the practical ways this metaphor played out in her own experiences at graduate school.
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