All Lives Don't Matter
All lives don’t matter… all lives can’t matter, until Black Lives Matter.
This is not going to be a typical Dowling Street Insight that you may have received from us in the past. It can’t be. Instead, today I’m going to share a personal message from my experiences and reflections over the last few weeks.
Like many of you, I watched in horror as the video surfaced of George Floyd’s murder in Minneapolis a little over two weeks ago. I can’t recall precisely the flood of thoughts that entered my mind, but it was some version of, “Oh God, not again.”
If I’m being completely honest, it took me four days for the events in Minneapolis to even register on my radar, a detail that in retrospect is equally as horrifying considering how pride myself on prioritizing keeping informed. The wake of an increasing groundswell of the murder of Ahmaud Arbery in February, followed by the report of interactions in Central Park between birder Christian Cooper and dog owner Amy Cooper, compounded by the ongoing Covid-19 pandemic left me in a state. It was only after the riots began and Governor Walz was holding extended press conferences did my attention refocus. I experienced my own personal stun grenade.
And that is precisely the problem. Not only have we built the buttresses of systemic oppression in this country, we’ve gone the extra mile to normalize it.
“The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist.”
-French literary figure Charles Baudelaire
(And, you probably recognize it from The Usual Suspects)
For the past 10 years, I’ve spent my life trying to understand organizations and problems from a systemic perspective, an approach that usually takes some persuading. For that reason, I’ve appreciated that the current conversation after Mr. Floyd’s murder has seemingly focused around the systemic or structural nature of oppression, racism or inequity. For the first time, we might actually have a fighting chance of making sustainable change to combat the effects of our country’s original sin.
The challenge with systemic problems, though, is that it takes the whole system’s collective effort to move onto a new normal. One group, especially a minority group, can’t will it into place because the systemic forces are simply too endemic and strong. Even those of us who sympathize and support the minority group tend to do this from a place of comfort in the existing system. These last few weeks, I’ve felt the need to confront how I may be part of the problem, how I may be complicit.
Growing up as one of very few ethnic minorities in rural Nebraska, I have clear memories of explicit and implicit racism. Ironically, the explicit offenses were easier to deal with. When the Ku Klux Klan marched in my hometown and my home was targeted, it was easy to identify our antagonists. The implicit transgressions, on the other hand, include the added guesswork of the insidiousness at play. When I was overlooked for scholarships, or my father’s performance reviews were mysteriously downgraded hindering his professional advancement, plausible deniability became our tricky adversary.
It’s no wonder that I sought out places where I was no longer treated as the “other”. I’ve enjoyed the ethnic and racial diversity on the trail of cities which I’ve called home. I’ve also relished the acceptance I’ve felt from individuals and communities of color, connecting on an unspoken language of shared experiences of violation.
But, sunlight being the best disinfectant, has illuminated that I’ve likely misdiagnosed my own privilege. My good friend and colleague Jesal Trivedi, CEO & Founder of Aduri, put it best when he wrote last week:
“Non-Black POC communities do experience our own versions of racism…. But it’s different and we [should] acknowledge our unspoken privilege. We're not generally at risk of death simply running an errand or going for a jog. We aren't murdered in broad daylight, getting crushed under the knees of systemic racism and oppression. We’re mostly seen as a non-threat. We have a TON of privilege.”
I will never know the pain and humiliation it must feel like to be viewed as a threat, with suspicion simply for the color of my skin. I joke with my friends that as a South Asian man, I’m assumed to be your taxi driver, your IT support, or your cardiologist. While none of those are particularly appealing to me, I’ve never experienced being automatically classed as your villain. Compound that with the accomplished South Asian social circle in which my family belongs and the string of private universities at which I was fortunate to attend, I have benefited from a stacked deck.
The first step in solving any problem is recognizing there is one. In America today, all lives don’t matter. But, the promise of America is and always has been our willingness to progress and adapt.
In the weeks ahead Dowling Street will be stepping in as a more vocal participant in these conversations. We’ll be sharing our thoughts on how businesses and other organizations can prioritize race relations and inequities with a slant towards sustainable change vs. performance activism. We’ll be providing an update on our seminal seven-part series from 2015, Can Bratton Save New York? And, during that time we’ll be taking 2020-style meetings with many of you; our clients and allies frustrated with the status quo, motivated to be part of change, and figuring out what to do now.
Going forward, here are the commitments you can expect from me and from us:
Dowling Street will base its work in requiring diverse perspectives. We will seek out black voices within client organizations, we will identify those against change, and amplify underrepresented & silent factions.
We will stay committed to gender-balanced and minority-representative client teams, with an increased focus on black staffing.
We will be launching a new practice area that apply our models and approach to addressing sustainable change, specifically empowering racial equity in organizations.
We will seek out black-owned businesses as partners and vendors.
We will dedicate 25% of our pro-bono portfolio (approximately 150 hours annually) to helping black-owned businesses or organizations.
I began this message with the line, “All lives can’t matter until Black Lives Matter”. The eternal optimist in me reads that statement with an underpinning of hope. I’m hopeful that this is not an “if” but “when”, and my experiences marching/protesting last week only further bolster my optimism. There will be a time when all lives matter in America.
I am hopeful of that day in the near future and am committed to doing my part.
-Nadir
Founder & CEO