Diversity and Belonging

If you ever see me walking through an airport during a layover, know this: I’m not exercising. I’m eavesdropping. Consider these snippets from a recent layover at DFW:

“Two supervisors! Why do they need two supervisors for that shift?”

“I told him, listen Dad, I just can’t keep doing this.”

“She said she’d meet us there, so I guess we’ll just ride with her.”

IMG_0674

Flying over the Midwest, vast but not empty. 

Almost all the conversations I could make out fell into similarly mundane categories–people conducting business or complaining about spouses or working the tiresome logistics of modern air travel. And those I couldn’t understand–those spoken in heavily accented English or in one of the seven other languages I counted–seemed to be no more exotic than the rest. Judging by body language, everyone seemed to be carrying similar burdens and fighting similar battles.

With this in mind, conclusions about how we are all different, but all really the same are easy enough to draw–until you look more closely at the interactions among the individuals in the crowd.

The airport had plenty of diversity, which made for an energizing atmosphere. But it did not guarantee personal connections, and in fact may have hindered them. Most of the people I encountered were either alone–reading or wrapped up in some electronic device–or with people in their traveling party. For however much people love diversity, they also tend to retreat toward the familiar, especially in stressful situations like travel.

The lone exception? The airport staff. Proportionally speaking, they appeared even more diverse than the traveling population. Yet they communicated constantly. Supervisors coached new employees, cart drivers shared information about passengers that needed a ride, cashiers wandered near enough to converse, breaking up the monotony of retail for a mostly disinterested clientele.

They were not a well-oiled customer service machine, nor were they a family with evident warm feelings for one another. Rather, they were a group of individuals working together on a common task, and so they were connected.

I found myself a bit jealous of the airport staff, if only briefly. They existed in the same swirl of interesting, eccentric, harried and haggard people that I did. But they had something I did not.

Belonging.

During one of my strolls down the back hallways between terminals, that changed for

IMG_0676.JPG

Empty hallways where the electric carts charge–and away from the cable news on every TV in the DFW airport.

me, if only briefly. Two men noticed my Dakota Wesleyan Tigers shirt and stopped me. They were investors who managed the assets to one of DWU’s employee benefits programs. We talked maybe two minutes, took a selfie for them to send to our university’s president–part personal connection, part PR opportunity–and were on our way. For those moments, however, my feelings about the airport crowd changed. I felt less alone, and more able to enjoy the swirl of people around me.

As I think back on that layover, I wonder if the goal of diversity pursued by so many businesses and institutions isn’t a bit misguided. Diversity may get people in the same room, but it doesn’t make them connect. There’s another step–belonging–that comes from working together on common tasks that benefit us all.

That, I think, is the point at which diversity becomes more important–when it opens the doors for different people to belong to the same larger endeavor. This is a necessary condition for a building a better world, because belonging increases security and reduces anxiety. It builds trust so that we are able to share appropriately, not just guard what is ours.

In this sense, the Christian gospel is a source of hope to me. The Pentecost story of Acts 2 is revolutionary not because of the number of converts (as American churches so often assume) but for the breadth of inclusion–everyone hearing the stories in their own languages. Paul, the much-maligned apostle, spent his entire career reaching out to people who did not belong in the ancient world–slaves, Gentiles, women, and so forth.

Buried in the bastardized nationalist “gospel” that defines a wide swath of American Christianity are the seeds of a better world–one in which an incredibly diverse cast of people are brought together in working toward the kingdom of God proclaimed by Jesus. The message of the faith is that everyone can belong. Everyone has to make room, but no one gets left out.

That’s an aspect of faith I can get behind.