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The Business of Leading Change

Hannibal B. Johnson 

Introduction

Each of us is a complex individual. Yes, we are different from one another, sometimes in significant ways. But what we have in common—our shared humanity—overarches those differences. A Yiddish proverb suggests we are all kneaded from the same dough, but some of us are baked in different ovens. Seeing differences, yet seeing beyond them, enables and ennobles us. Embracing diversity and inclusion allows us to be our true selves and be true to all others.

“Takatoka,” the moniker for my workplace diversity and inclusion paradigm, is a Cherokee word meaning “standing together.” It evokes a sense of solidarity in the face of a multitude of human differences and emphasizes the exponential power residing within the community of individual selves. Fundamental to individual and group development under the Takatoka model is the recognition of our shared humanity.

At its core, Takatoka requires: (i) acknowledging the humanity of others (i.e., according others dignity and respect); (ii) ferreting out and reducing/eliminating injustices; (iii) celebrating differences; and (iv) seeking common ground (i.e., identifying common or community goals and working toward their accomplishment elevates both the unique individuals within the group and the group itself).

Andres Tapia, in his book The Inclusion Paradox—The Obama Era and the Transformation of Global Diversity, noted:

[T]he possibilities for an exponential explosion of creativity, innovation, and life-improving products and services birthed through the union of diversity and inclusion [are evident]. Embracing the mix and knowing how to make it work will give us the power to create an alternative, uplifting, and creative vision.

[C]orporations, not-for-profits, government, law enforcement, and the military will have to attract and retain the best talent from multiple labor pools if they are to survive the talent war. The key to attraction lies in creating truly inclusive environments. Don’t be fooled by how soft and effortless that sounds. Inclusion is one of the hardest things to achieve.

Andres T. Tapia, The Inclusion Paradox—The Obama Era and the Transformation of Global Diversity (Lincolnshire, Illinois: Hewitt Associates 2009), at 15.

Tapia got it right. The work of diversity and inclusion is tough and never-ending. There will always be detractors and challenges, but if businesses, organizations, and communities are to reach their full potential, it is work that must be done.

Research on community by Dr. Robert Putnam, a Harvard political scientist, indicates: (1) diversity is inevitable; (2) diversity is an imperative; and (3) diversity leadership that fosters a spirit of inclusion is paramount. Being inclusive, in Dr. Putnam’s view, requires developing “a new, broader sense of ‘we’.” Too much of an “us” and “them” mentality still persists, not just among individuals, but systemically, among organizations.

The success of diversity and inclusion initiatives turns on five propositions:

1. Diversity and inclusion is both a moral imperative and a business necessity.

1. Diversity is. Inclusion may or may not be.

1. Contact is necessary, but not sufficient.

1. With change comes resistance.

1. The work of diversity and inclusion is ongoing.

I. PROPOSITION #1: Diversity and inclusion is both a moral imperative and a business necessity.

The case for diversity and inclusion is two-dimensional: one moral, the other economic and pragmatic. The moral case is straightforward. Universal values grounded in most national, cultural, and religious traditions teach us to treat others with respect and to value the humanity of each and every person.

The business case for diversity and inclusion has become pervasive and persuasive.

The demographic imperative is undeniable.

America is browning: There are increasing numbers of people of color. America is graying: We are, on average, getting older and, with that, the number of persons with disabilities (another dimension of diversity) is rising. America is gaying: There is an increasing prominence of and advocacy for the lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (“LGBT”) community. These groups—people of color, seniors, people with disabilities, and LGBT people—represent incredible human capital and substantial purchasing power. Firms that invest in diversity and inclusion—open up employment processes and reach out to untapped and underserved markets—will reap substantial dividends in the form of workplace capacity, creativity, and culture.

We are a global society. We are increasingly connected to the rest of the world, with its rich diversity of language, religion, and culture, in terms of our workforce, marketplace, and economy. Within this global context, we are in the midst of “the talent games.” Getting top talent now means casting a wider net; tapping markets once largely ignored.

By 2020, “minorities” will make up an additional 20% of the workforce. Women continue their rapid entry into the employment sector. Generational diversity is prominent in the workplace. Already, there are four generations—Traditionalists, Baby Boomers, Gen Xers, and Millennials—represented.

Our present reality and the relevant trends echo the business case for diversity and inclusion, the most obvious benefits of which include: workforce talent attraction and retention, productivity gains, expanded markets, expanded perspectives, a heightened self-image among employees, and an enhanced workplace culture. Business survival depends on giving diversity and inclusion its due.

II. PROPOSITION #2: Diversity is. Inclusion may or may not be.

Diversity refers to the many and varied differences between and among us, sometimes apparent (e.g., gender; race), but often not (e.g., learning styles; political/philosophical identity; economic status). For most of us, certain aspects of our diversity loom larger than others. Often, these “core dimensions” of diversity include gender, race/ethnicity, sexual orientation, and ability status.

Inclusion comes with the recognition that what we as people have in common far exceeds our differences. Inclusion is a state of being respected, valued, and supported within a community such that each and every person has the opportunity to reach his/her full potential.

The related concept of cultural competence involves enhancing one’s awareness, attitudes, knowledge, and skills around diversity and inclusion. Cultural competence may be viewed as diversity and inclusion actualized.

Diversity already exists all around us. It is non-negotiable, especially in the long run. Inclusion requires intentionality: commitment, persistence, and sustainability, all of which start at the top of an organization.

No business, and indeed no organization, will realize its full potential without appropriate attention to diversity and inclusion, and without some focus on creating the kind of cultural competence that translates diversity and inclusion into meaningful positive action.

III. PROPOSITION # 3: Contact is necessary, but not sufficient.

Diversity means more than simply accumulating persons of varying backgrounds. Putting different people together in a shared environment—essentially, the contact theory—may, over time, help reduce individual biases and prejudices, but it is insufficient to address systemic inequities and create the kind of synergistic capacity businesses need. Skilled, thoughtful facilitation is required to leverage diversity in ways that benefit the collective by elevating and empowering its individuals.

Inclusion in the workplace involves not just recruitment and hiring, but also retention. That means addressing systemic barriers to equal opportunity. It requires creating supports for all employees–mentoring, regularized feedback, opportunities for growth and development, avenues through which to communicate problems/grievances, and networking channels (e.g., business resource groups, conferences, and community engagement opportunities). Finally, workplace inclusion necessitates holding people accountable for creating an environment that offers every employee equal avenues for success.

IV. PROPOSITION #4: With change comes resistance.

Change is difficult. Culture change within an organization can be especially difficult. Embracing diversity and inclusion means tackling the “but-this-is-the-way-we’ve-always-done-it” syndrome. Resistance and roadblocks should be expected and, just as certainly, confronted. Stifling dissent is not the goal. Molding behavior consistent with core organizational values is.  

An organization faced with diversity and inclusion pushback should: (i) identify the negative behavior; (ii) articulate the real or potential business impact of the behavior; (iii) seek feedback from the individual on the reasons underlying the behavior; (iv) point out alternative, more positive, ways to behave; (v) monitor the behavior; (vi) reevaluate the situation within a time certain. Stifling dissent is not the goal. Molding behavior consistent with core organization values is.  

V. PROPOSITION #5: The work of diversity and inclusion is ongoing. 

Progress continues to be made in the diversity and inclusion arena. Indeed, progress and promise are essential to keep alive the Utopian ideal of a wholly egalitarian world. Yet, there will always be work to do: new people to educate; sectarian strife to stifle; and interpersonal crises to quell. Diversity and inclusion issues should be viewed as an ongoing journey. It is essential to stay the course despite temporary hazards and setbacks.

On an individual level, it is surprisingly simple to make a difference in terms of diversity and inclusion. On getting things done, famed tennis pro and humanitarian Arthur Ashe once said: “Start where you are, use what you have, and do what you can.” So it is with diversity and inclusion. Reach outside your comfort zone. Learn about your own culture history and background. Support diversity and inclusion causes.

Individual efforts to foster diversity and inclusion, while necessary, are not wholly adequate. Businesses and organizations play critical roles in nurturing diversity and inclusion, both out of social responsibility (the moral dimension) and business necessity (the economic dimension). What are the hallmarks of an inclusive organization? Inclusive organizations

1. Value diversity & inclusion;

2. Engage diversity & inclusion;

3. Set high expectations for all;

4. Fashion a personal development culture;

5. Embrace conflict;

6. Nurture creativity;

7. Define their mission and goals clearly; and

8. Foster an egalitarian culture.

Conclusion

Leadership is the key to meaningful, sustainable workplace diversity and inclusion efforts. Each of us is capable of that being part of that leadership, but we must first assess our own awareness, attitudes, knowledge, and skills around issues of diversity and inclusion. That process begins with the question: What are the core dimensions of my own diversity and how do they affect my interrelationships with others? That inquiry requires us to reach down to our own racial/ethnic/cultural roots, explore gender and sexuality dynamics, examine notions of ability/disability, and peer into the politics of class (and, arguably, caste).

Each of us can be a constant catalyst for individual and institutional change. We can advocate for—champion—diversity and inclusion within our own spheres of influence. We can speak truth to power. We can mentor and support others who share similar visions. We can celebrate incremental positive change while fighting more transformational movement.

When it comes to diversity and inclusion, our work is never done. But when we recall that these efforts are part of a mission-critical values proposition, we should be emboldened to carry on. This is business.

The “Information Age” is now firmly ensconced. We are awash in its brackish, untamed waters, buffeted by waves of data at every turn. As with water, separating out the undesirable contaminants requires a process akin to purification, a kind of processing that culls the important, meaningful information from the fluff. While dealing with this information tsunami may be frustrating, not dealing with it will certainly prove even more exasperating.

The birth of the Internet and the expansion of cable television exponentially enlarged the breadth and reach of all types of information. Data spring from many founts, sometimes in trickles, and other times, in torrents. Intuitively, more and faster
translates into “better.” Experience suggests otherwise.

“More” muddies the waters. “More” requires discernment. Volume and rapidity of flow tell us little about the quality of the information we encounter. It is difficult to appreciate individual raindrops in the midst of a thunderstorm.

Consistency and reliability are among the criteria which help us trudge through the dense fog of constant inputs, solicited and unsolicited, which daily greets us. In this consumption-drenched society, we could be much savvier when it comes to our
choices from among the sea of information outlets.

Much of what passes for truth is of questionable veracity and dubious value; so porous that it cannot withstand basic journalistic scrutiny. More troublesome still is the relative lack of attention to that which matters most. Too few of us question why so much of what has meaning for our lives (e.g., information that would enable us to become more capable participants in our democratic society; better citizens) garners scant media attention. Still fewer of us take affirmation action to fill the void.

Our world is increasingly complex and convoluted. The urge to over-simplify (i.e., “It is either black or white.”; “You are either with us or against us.”) or escape and avoid altogether, tempts all of us. Truth be told, most of the substantive issues we face fall
into gray zones, admitting of neither easy answers nor quick fixes. We have swum beyond the shallow and into the deep. More is required of each of us.

We routinely invest media with blind trust, particularly media aligned with our socio-political worldview. We believe what we see and hear, particularly if it conforms to our preconceived notions of what is real, right, and true. Scientific studies have
demonstrated that we glom onto that which fits neatly with our version of reality, morality, and truth. We should be conscious of that bias and work against the grain of self-confirmation. A smidgen of skepticism and healthy dose of alternative viewpoints
would serve us well. Caveat emptor.

In our celebrity-driven culture, much of what passes for “news” is mere gossip and adulation, a curious and superficially appealing mix of “infotainment.” We are keenly interested in the exploits of the superstars, super-athletes, supermodels, super-rich—exceptional, fantastical people. When it comes to the issues that affect our lives and livelihoods, and even the very existence of our democracy, too many of us sink beneath the surface, abdicating our responsibility to know, care, and act.

The proliferation of cable television news has also diluted that which passes as legitimate “news.” The round-the-clock news cycle, voracious in its appetite for digestible bits for viewers, yields material that is often trivial, salacious, or otherwise
inconsequential.

Many purveyors of “news” aspire to celebrity. Indeed, some would rather be news than report it. How better to get noticed than to be shrill and extreme—to cast aspersions upon those with whom one disagrees? Our culture of talking heads, “citizen journalists,” and celebrity hosts makes it difficult to ferret out “the truth” amidst an ocean of self-serving propaganda delivered in most uncivil ways.

Some networks feature narcissistic hosts whose bombast and bluster overshadow any substantive content. Complex issues are too often reduced to an absurd level of simplicity, becoming litmus tests for our liberal or conservative bona fides in this
bizarre, neatly bilateral, world.

We are complicit. We are the viewers. We should demand more.

Print media, though struggling universally, does a better job of helping us see through the information cloud by highlighting what is important. Top-notch newspapers take that editorial discretion a step further by offering thorough, detailed accounts of
meaningful, substantive events, often of local interest, and, on occasion, analysis.

It is true: All news is to some extent subjective. That said, journalistic standards do matter. Objectivity remains a noble, if never fully attainable, goal. Full disclosure of any vested self-interest on the part of the storyteller enables the reader to pass
judgment on the credibility of this or that account of a given set of events.

The truth of the matter is this: We should all do a better job of vetting our information. We should seek out a variety of sources. We should do our homework.

It has been said that “knowledge is power.” It is equally important to remember that undifferentiated information is not necessarily knowledge. Knowledge requires discretion and discernment, two characteristics sorely needed in the information age.

Like clean water in the human body, good information is essential to the functioning of our democracy. We can and must do a better job, both qualitatively and quantitatively, of regulating our intake.

HANNIBAL B. JOHNSON, a Harvard Law School graduate, is an author, attorney, and consultant specializing in diversity and inclusion issues, human relations, leadership, and non-profit leadership & management. He teaches at Oklahoma State University and The University of Oklahoma, Tulsa campuses.

“The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”

-Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

 
Tulsa, “The Oil Capital of the World,” “The Magic City,” shone brightly at the dawn of the twentieth century. Black gold oozed from Indian Territory soil, land once set aside for American Indian resettlement. J. Paul Getty. Thomas Gilcrease. Waite Phillips. They were among the men living on Tulsa time and extracting fabulous fortunes from Oklahoma crude.

As Tulsa’s wealth and stature grew, so, too, did political, economic, and, particularly, race-based, tensions. The formative years of this segregated city coincided with the nadir of American race relations—a period of marked civil rights retrenchment and anti-black violence.

Even amidst this “blacklash,” Tulsa’s African American community, the Greenwood District, thrived, becoming a nationally-renowned entrepreneurial center.  This hotbed of black entrepreneurial activity, dubbed the “Negro Wall Street,” attracted visionary trailblazers from all over America who sought new opportunities and fresh challenges. African Americans did business with one another in an insular service economy.  The black district? prospered as dollars circulated within its confines. A talented cadre of African American entrepreneurs emerged.

Fueled by jealousy, fear, and covetousness, and enmeshed in a national web of white supremacist rhetoric and reality, mobs of white Tulsans seized up the city’s “Negro quarter” with seismic fury. In a sixteen-hour eruption of volcanic violence euphemistically dubbed “The 1921 Tulsa Race Riot” (the “Riot”), marauding white hooligans set upon black Tulsa. Their scorched earth assault on the Greenwood District left little unscathed: homes and businesses reduced to charred rubble; scores dead, dying, and wounded; and hundreds homeless and destitute. The breadth and brutality of it all etched psychic scars palpable even today.

Any mention about many of the Tulsa police belonging to the Klu Klux Klan?

The Riot dimmed the City’s luster and threatened her reputation as America’s economic darling. What happened in its wake shaped race relations in Tulsa going forward.

For decades, the catastrophic Riot, the worst so-called race riot in American history, remained shrouded in mystery, cloaked in secrecy, and draped in conjecture. Despite its significance as a defining moment in history of the City of Tulsa, the State of Oklahoma, and the United States generally, some Tulsans, even more Oklahomans, and most Americans remain largely oblivious to this watershed event.

In recent years, Tulsans have begun to grapple with this horror on the home front—this terrible human tragedy. The full cost of our reluctant reckoning has yet to be calculated. Perhaps the greatest casualty, trust, has yet to be fully recouped. The once-vast chasm of distrust between black and white still lingers, marginally diminished, but no less real.

Today, almost a century removed, the specter of the Riot looms large. How do we heal the haunts of our history? How do we atone for the intergenerational damage inflicted so long ago? How do we restore trust and move toward reconciliation? Our answers to these critical questions will determine whether we further narrow existing racial gulfs or allow the great chasms of color-based mistrust to span future generations.

Providing reparations of some sort—making amends—is essential to rapprochement—reconciliation.[1] That said, even reparations proponents understand the “make whole” aspiration behind reparations cannot be literally realized. Lives, once lost, cannot be resuscitated. Minds, once subjected to psychological trauma, cannot be returned to the status quo ante. Economic momentum, once blunted by physical devastation, cannot be fully recaptured. Nonetheless, absent reparations, old wounds continue to fester; grievances magnify and multiply; present-day healing cannot occur.

Some, however, fear that debating reparations, let alone offering them, opens a Pandora’s box of historical horrors and embarrassments best left buried and forgotten. “Where will it all end?,” they ask?

The case for Riot reparations, documented in Tulsa Race Riot, the Final Report of the Oklahoma Commission to Study the Tulsa Race Riot of 1921 (the “Riot Commission Report” published, 2001) and elsewhere, rests principally on the following:

• Compelling, documented evidence of governmental complicity at the city and, arguably, the state level;
• Identifiable Riot victims and their heirs;
• A defined, discrete geographic community adversely affected by the Riot (i.e., the Greenwood District);
• Measurable and/or estimable economic losses attributable to the Riot; and
• A thorough record of the people, places, and events associated with the Riot.

What, then, are the countervailing considerations—the arguments against reparations? What might detractors find objectionable about the desire to “make things right”?

Following is a representative sampling of salient objections to Riot reparations (most aimed at monetary reparations), coupled with rejoinders to each. Framed as colloquy between reparations opponents and proponents, these arguments crystallize often unspoken, sub-textual positions that, left unarticulated, undermine relationships and torpedo trust.

The Exploitation of African American Victimhood

• Reparations Opponents: Riot reparations promote a sort of perpetual African American victimhood, stifling initiative, independence, and self-help.
• Reparations Proponents: Reparations—a deserved making of amends—are not inconsistent with African American initiative, independence, and self-help. Quite the contrary, the failure to provide reparations provides further evidence of the institutional nature of racism and the unwillingness of complicit governmental units to remediate past misdeeds. Empowerment and appropriate redress are complimentary, not contradictory.

The Commercialization of African American Suffering

• Reparations Opponents: Monetary Riot reparations reduce legitimate African American suffering to a crass commercial calculus.
• Reparations Proponents: Reparations, like civil damages, may not always equate precisely to the value of the harm caused. That said, in a capitalistic economy, money symbolizes the value we attach to both things and people. The language of money is a tongue we all speak, even if the translation is sometimes less than perfect.

The Sins of the Fathers

• Reparations Opponents: Riot reparations visit the sins of the fathers and mothers on the sons and daughters. People should be held responsible only for those harms they cause.
• Reparations Proponents: Society and its constituent governmental units are imbued with continuous life. Sometimes our sons and daughters must be held accountable for things over which they personally had no control. In a democracy, we are responsible collectively for the actions of those in whom we invest political power. We accept the benefits of power and privilege that accrue across generations.  We must likewise accept the burdens of responsibility for the structural and institutional factors that skew the distribution of that power and privilege. If amends are to be made, if injustices are to be remedied, if wrongs are to be righted, it is our shared responsibility to do it. Whether or not we played a direct role in fomenting, executing, or profiting from the Riot, we all have a stake in the community that owns its legacy.

Race Relations & Remedies

• Reparations (s) Opponents: Riot reparations would open old wounds and polarize race relations. Let sleeping dogs lie.
• Reparations Proponents: Race relations in Tulsa, in Oklahoma, and in America leave much to be desired, in part because of our failure to address Riot reparations and other issues related to once-prevalent race-based violence and exclusion. Properly pursued, reparations are a way of uniting and healing rather than dividing and wounding.

Balkanization & The Opening of the Floodgates

• Reparations Opponents: Monetary Riot reparations would cause a flood of similar claims, locally, at the state level, and nationally. What if every historically marginalized demographic group raised its claims of historical maltreatment? If proven, how would such a rash of such claims be paid?
• Reparations Proponents: The legitimacy and appropriateness of awarding monetary Riot reparations rests on particular history and specific proof. To the extent others are entitled to reparations, that discussion must likewise be had on its own merits and in its own time.

A Question of Priorities

• Reparations Opponents: Riot reparations shift the focus of the African American community away from devastating and critical internal issues like unemployment, health care, and crime to attenuated, theoretical matters of dubious practical import. The African American community should work on solving its own seemingly intractable social and economic problems instead of waiting for outsiders to come up with pots of gold.
• Reparations Proponents: The African American community has always been beset by multiple challenges, and is fully capable of multitasking. The pursuit of reparations need not and will not preclude a simultaneous pursuit of other critical issues by the African American community, for the African American community, and within the African American community.

A thoughtful, vigorous, and productive reparations dialogue requires an understanding of the promise, possibilities, and parameters associated with these ameliorative measures. The conversation around Riot reparations began even before the necessary definitional foundation had been laid.

Talk of Riot reparations drew swift and vocal opposition, attributable, in part, to ignorance about the Riot and an unnecessarily narrow construction of the word “reparations.” Some reparations opponents failed to acknowledge the scope of the damage wrought by the Riot and its lasting bequest. Having minimized the seminal event, it surprised no one that these critics discounted the need for reparations. Some reparations proponents unwittingly fueled resistance with a near-singular focus on cash payments to Riot survivors and their heirs as the essential, if not the quintessential, form of reparations.

The statewide body appointed to look at the history of the Riot fully supported the moral necessity of Riot reparations. An eleven-member, bi-racial, legislatively-created Oklahoma Commission to Study the Tulsa Race Riot of 1921 (the “Commission”) convened in 1997. Through its work, that assemblage changed the trajectory of Riot coverage. It prompted a groundswell of public interest in Tulsa’s community dynamics—how the City has dealt with its past, and the impact of the past on the present and future of Tulsa.

The State of Oklahoma charged the Commission with investigating, assessing, and evaluating the Riot, and then making recommendations. The Commission’s sometimes-contentious deliberations drew world-wide media attention and rekindled local curiosity. In 2001, the Commission issued its award-winning Riot Commission Report. Among the recommendations catalogued in the document were various types of reparations, in priority order:

1. Payments to living survivors;
2. Payments to descendants of those who suffered property damage during the Riot;
3. A scholarship fund;
4. Business tax incentives for the Greenwood District; and
5. A memorial.

These recommended reparations,[2] though fairly broad in scope, exalted monetary payments to first-priority status. The Commission’s approbation of cash reparations, the most contentious of its list of five, drew particular and immediate attention. That the Commission stamped its imprimatur on cash reparations emboldened organizations like the National Coalition of Blacks for Reparations in America (“N’COBRA”). N’COBRA saw the push for Riot reparations as precedent for a broader embrace of monetary reparations for American slavery.

Sensing controversy and conflict, early print and broadcast media coverage of the debate over monetary Riot reparations dwarfed coverage of alternative mode of making amends. This near-exclusive focus drowned out discussion of broader philosophical questions centering on the definition of and rationale for reparations.

A high-profile lawsuit further coalesced media attention around monetary reparations as the lynchpin of Riot justice. In February of 2003, a coterie of star-caliber national attorneys galvanized by the Riot Commission Report, joined forces with local legal talent in filing Alexander v. Governor of State of Oklahoma, a money damages lawsuit on behalf of Riot survivors and their descendants against the City of Tulsa and the State of Oklahoma.

On March 22, 2004, a Tulsa federal district court dismissed the case, holding the applicable two-year statute of limitations barred all claims. Subsequently, a federal court of appeals sustained the dismissal, and the United States Supreme Court declined to review the case, ending the push for court-mandated Riot monetary reparations. The courts’ rulings suggest reparations claims may be better suited for the political, rather than the legal, realm.

The Riot litigation raised two compelling questions about reparations: (1) Is litigation, as opposed to, say, legislation or conciliation, a viable approach to securing reparations?; and (2) Are cash payments—monetary reparations—the only acceptable form of reparations?

Litigation over Riot reparations was, arguably, counterproductive, particularly if the ultimate aim is community reconciliation. Litigation, by its very nature, leads inexorably to adversarial relations, not the kind of sustained, rational dialogue antecedent to reconciliation. Moreover, securing monetary damages (i.e., reparations) in courts of law for events like the Riot (and there were many such events in the early twentieth century) would require a sort of national vivisection. Courts would have to open up our history to examine the effects of systemic racism. Those same courts would then have to diagnose (i.e., acknowledge) and prescribe (i.e., offer a remedy). Decisions in such cases would affect not just individuals, but cities, counties, states, and even the federal government, too. Is the judiciary equipped to carry out this kind of de novo examination of our racialized past and, assuming it is, how likely is it to do so?

The Riot lawsuit, some argued, widened and deepened racial fissures in the City and State, if only temporarily. Critics perceived the litigation as having been instigated by a group of outsider rabble rousers and claimed it stymied private fundraising, hampered legislative efforts, and clouded organic, community-based reparations initiatives focused on memorializing the Riot and promoting reconciliation.

Beyond doubting the wisdom of using litigation as a strategy for securing reparations, some took issue with the narrow, monetized, definition of reparations pursued in court. Monetary reparations are by no means the only way to make amends. Other approaches exist: forms of reparations more likely to be accepted and implemented by a broad community consensus.

Of late, the conversation around Riot reparations has broadened. Data gathered and compiled by Chad V. Johnson, Ph.D., his University of Oklahoma colleagues, and community partners suggest widespread support for reparations of some sort. The Johnson team conducted an ambitious community-wide survey investigating knowledge of the Riot and attitudes about race relations in Tulsa. Two-thousand respondents engaged in the process. By overwhelming margins, respondents agreed:

1. The Riot adversely affected social and economic dynamics in Tulsa.

2. The Riot story has not been adequately shared.

3. All Tulsans should know about the Riot.

4. The Riot should be taught as part of the education curriculum.

5. Race relations in Tulsa are poor to fair, and amelioration will require dialogue and other programs/actions.

Locally, most citizens support a variety of reparation measures. Monetary reparations, however, appear to be less important and more contentious.

Both the City of Tulsa and the State of Oklahoma have likewise embraced a passel of non-monetary reparations without labeling them as such and without formally admitting culpability for Riot-related offenses. For example, former Tulsa Mayors Susan Savage and Kathy Taylor offered public apologies for the Riot during their respective tenures.

At the State level, the Oklahoma Legislature created several vehicles and entities to address the Commission’s recommendations: (i) The Tulsa Race Riot Memorial Reconciliation Design Committee, out of which emerged the John Hope Franklin Center for Reconciliation; (ii) The Greenwood Area Redevelopment Authority; and (iii) The Tulsa Reconciliation Education and Scholarship Program. The Oklahoma Legislature also awarded medals of distinction to several Riot survivors in a 2001 State Capitol ceremony.

Educational reparations have also been pursued. Teaching about the Riot is now part of the State of Oklahoma’s “Priority Academic Student Skills,” common education proficiency expectations. Some Oklahoma History textbooks include a discussion of the Riot. Creative teachers supplement regular curricula with Riot-related lessons.

The Tulsa City Council passed a Riot-inspired resolution in 2008 supporting the teaching of an appropriate curriculum to ensure the Riot is adequately covered in Oklahoma’s educational institutions as an historical event. Similarly, the John Hope Franklin Center for Reconciliation is working with Tulsa Public Schools to make curricular materials on the Riot widely available to educators.

When it comes to the question of reparations, we are left with a question of morality and justice: As a civilized society, what actions must we take to salve the wounds of our own making? If we are as civilized as we profess to be, then we are responsible, collectively, for the actions of those in whom we have, over time, invested political power. We accept the benefits that accrue across generations. We must likewise accept the burdens. As such, if amends are to be made, if injustices are to be remedied, if wrongs are to be righted, the ultimate responsibility rests upon each of our shoulders.

Most Tulsans agree that reparations are essential if we are to triumph over our tragic past. Indeed, we have begun making amends. Striking the appropriate balance—creating the right mix of measures that will help us heal our history—remains a challenge. So, too, does following through on our good intentions.

Hannibal B. Johnson, a Harvard Law School graduate, is an author, attorney, and consultant specializing in diversity issues, human relations, leadership, and non-profit management & governance. He teaches at Oklahoma State University and The University of Oklahoma, and has taught at the University of Tulsa College of Law. His books include: Black Wall Street—From Riot to Renaissance in Tulsa’s Historic Greenwood District, Up From the Ashes—A Story About Community, and Acres of Aspiration—The Black Towns in Oklahoma; Mama Used to Say—Wit & Wisdom from the Heart & Soul; No Place Like Home—A Story About an All-Black, All-American Town; and IncogNegro—Poetic Reflections on Race & Diversity in America. Johnson’s play, Big Mama Speaks: A Tulsa Race Riot Survivor’s Story, was selected for the 2011 National African American Theatre Festival in Winston-Salem, North Carolina.

We need to teach and learn about the Riot. We need to know what happened and why. We need to remember so that the carnage and chaos Tulsa witnessed in the spring of 1921 never happens again. We need to hold people accountable; assign moral responsibility for the gross depredations and injustices perpetrated on Tulsa soil. If, and only if, we teach and learn about the Riot may we: (i) begin the process of reconciliation in earnest; (ii) recapture our too-often unacknowledged sense of shared humanity; and (iii) create for posterity a community more open, inclusive, and loving than the one in which we live today. Healing the still-festering wounds left by the Riot is possible, but we must incorporate this potent, painful, poignant legacy into school curricula in deliberate, systematic ways. Curriculum counts.

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. once observed: “The function of education is to teach one to think intensively and to think critically.” Absent attention to substantive detail—to curricula—education fails in its core mission. When we sanitize our past, we stifle our ability to analyze it intensively and critically. We limit our capacity to learn and grow from our mistakes and missteps. We burden the future with our unresolved past.

The history surrounding the Riot is but one case in point. Some believe a conspiracy of silence enveloped the community in the wake of the Riot and muzzled it for decades thereafter. Tulsans scarcely spoke of this traumatic event privately, let alone publicly. No one dared to address it through education—pedagogically. Textbooks omitted references to this ugly chapter in our history.

The full dimensions of this epic tragedy, buried layers-deep in the City’s community consciousness, have only been recently realized. Arguably, that years-long obfuscation stunted Tulsa’s growth, both physically and spiritually. Our failure to come clean about Tulsa’s dirty little secret undermined the ability of the community to: (1) understand Tulsa’s role in the twentieth century American race drama; (2) build trust across the great chasm of race; and (3) use history as a catalyst for strategic, transformational change.

Just over a decade ago, things began to change. An eleven-member, legislatively-created 1921 Tulsa Race Riot Commission (the “Commission”), initially convened in 1997, changed the trajectory of Riot coverage and prompted a groundswell of public interest in how Tulsa has dealt with its past.

The State of Oklahoma charged the Commission with conducting an investigation, assessment, and evaluation of the circumstances surrounding the Riot. The State further tasked the Commission with advising the Governor, the Oklahoma Legislature, the Mayor of Tulsa, and the Tulsa City Council on appropriate action, including the propriety of reparations. The sometimes-contentious deliberations of the Commission drew world-wide media attention and rekindled local curiosity. In 2001, the Commission issued its award-winning final report. Among the Commission’s recommendations:

1.     Cash reparations payments to then-living Riot survivors;
2.     Cash reparations payments to Riot survivors (or their heirs) who lost property in the Riot;
3.     Establishment of a scholarship fund for Riot survivor heirs;
4.     Creation of business development incentives to spur development in the Greenwood District; and
5.     Construction of a substantial memorial/museum to commemorate Riot-related history.

Initially, the Commission’s endorsement of cash reparations drew particular attention. Indeed, early media focus on money payments dwarfed coverage of the other items and, more importantly, drowned out discussion of broader philosophical questions centering on the definition of and rationale for reparations. Those foundational questions about reparations merit additional consideration.

Reparations make amends for injustices. The idea behind reparations is to reconcile, repair, and restore that which has been damaged. Properly conceived, reparations help us bridge divides, bolster trust, and build community. By design, reparations move us toward hope, health, and healing.

How is it possible to satisfy the core definitional criteria for reparations—to make amends—and the fundamental rationale underlying reparations—reconciliation—without a viable effort to educate the community on the cause for which reparations are to be made? Surely, a baseline of knowledge about the event for which reparations are offered is the sine qua non of meaningful reparations. Broad-based support for Riot reparations hinges on community awareness about our history—the events that transpired before, during, and after the fateful event we know as the 1921 Tulsa Race Riot.

The Commission’s reparations wish list contained no reference to curriculum reform, arguably the most meaningful, enduring form of reparations imaginable. This stunning omission undercut its other recommendations. No matter what else we may do, we will not be whole unless and until we own our past, process it, and integrate its lessons into our present and our vision for the future. Teaching and learning are essential to this process. As such, curriculum counts.

After years of deafening silence, the ghosts of Greenwood past emerged in full force as the Commission went about its business. Prominent newspapers, domestic and foreign, covered Tulsa’s monumental, historic tragedy. The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, The Los Angeles Times, The San Francisco Examiner, Le Monde, and The Times of London all featured stories about the Riot. So, too, did broadcast media. The History Channel, Showtime, and all the major networks produced Riot-related features. Our past has a way of haunting us despite our vigorous attempts to escape it.

As the media discovered, the Riot itself is only part of the fascinating Greenwood story. Indeed, one cannot fully appreciate the devastation wrought by the Riot without first understanding something of what was destroyed. Prior to the Riot, Greenwood District pioneers built a bustling black entrepreneurial Mecca dubbed “Black Wall Street.” That many of those same trailblazers rebounded and rebuilt after the Riot is a testament to human spirit. Like the Riot itself, these heroic, visionary men and women trailblazers merit resurrection. That we have squandered the opportunity, time and time again, to learn about and from this rich past is an injustice unto itself.

In recent years, there has been a growing recognition of the centrality of curriculum in addressing the Riot and its legacy. On October 12, 2008, the Tulsa City Council passed a Riot-inspired resolution supporting, among other things, the teaching of an appropriate curriculum to ensure the Riot is adequately covered in Oklahoma’s educational institutions as an historical event. It was a call for reparations. It was a call to action. It was a moment of hope.

We have made advances. Teaching about the Riot is now part of the State of Oklahoma’s “Priority Academic Student Skills,” proficiency expectations for various subjects and grade levels. Some ninth grade Oklahoma History textbooks now include a discussion of the Riot. Creative teachers have supplemented regular curricula with Riot-related materials and experiential activities. The John Hope Franklin Center for Reconciliation compiled supplementary curricular materials on Riot history, and is working with Tulsa Public Schools to make them widely available to educators. The annual Reconciliation in America symposium, sponsored by the John Hope Franklin Center for Reconciliation, brings together scholars and practitioners in an effort to spur racial reconciliation efforts. Curriculum reform is a core piece of the puzzle. While these are encouraging developments, much work remains to be done.

Why not be honest and transparent? Why not infuse interdisciplinary teachings about the Riot into our curricula? Why not ask the provocative questions that expose the present manifestations of past horrors? For example:

History

• Why did various demographic groups flock to Oklahoma in the early twentieth century?
• What was the status of African-Americans in the early twentieth century?
• What are “reparations”?
• What are some examples of reparations in connections with historic injustices?
• Should reparations be paid to the victims and descendants of victims of the Tulsa Race Riot of 1921? Why or why not?

Sociology

• What role did race play in the early twentieth century?
• Describe the circumstances surrounding the internment of Tulsans during the Riot and note other incidents of internment in our history.
• What is “urban renewal”?
• What is de jure segregation?
• Did integration help or hurt the Greenwood District?
• How might we prevent an event like the Riot from happening again?

Economics

• What were the advantages and disadvantages of a racially segregated economy?
• Why was the Greenwood District known as “Black Wall Street?”
• Who were some of the African-American pioneers in the Greenwood District?
• What factors caused the Greenwood District to decline economically after its peak in the 1940s?

Media/Journalism

• What types of media existed in the early twentieth century?
• What was the role of the media in the Riot?
• What role do media play in race relations and in diversity and inclusion generally?

Civics

• What role did law enforcement play in the Riot?
• What role did the Tulsa government play in the Riot?
• What role did the State of Oklahoma play in the Riot?
• What role did African-Americans, American Indians, and other minorities play in government, local, state, and national, in the early twentieth century?

Fine Arts

• What is “jazz”? Discuss its origins and key artists.
• What role did Tulsa and Oklahoma generally play in the development of jazz?
• Discuss the Oklahoma Jazz Hall of Fame, including its founding, mission, and recent inductees.

With a sense of purpose and a dose of creativity, Riot-related history may be woven into our curricular fabric. The consequences will be powerful, positive, and generation-spanning.

Do not be fooled. Curriculum counts. Our way forward begins with a look back. Through careful attention to curriculum, our backward glance will enrich and enliven our shared vision for the future.

A PLAY BY HANNIBAL B. JOHNSON

Featuring acclaimed actress
VANESSA ADAMS-HARRIS
 as “Big Mama”

Big Mama Speaks is based on Hannibal B. Johnson’s book, Black Wall Street: From Riot to Renaissance in Tulsa’s Historic Greenwood District. A one-act vignette, the play traces the history of Tulsa, Oklahoma’s African-American community, the “Greenwood District,” renowned nationally in the early twentieth century for its preeminent Black entrepreneurs.

The worst race riot in American history destroyed the beloved Greenwood District in 1921. Fires raged. Bullets flew. The stench of death and destruction filled the thick summer air. Greenwood smoldered and lay in ruins. Some 300 people lost their lives. Hundreds more suffered grievous injury. Property damage ran into the millions.

Against all odds, Tulsa’s African-American community overcame. The Greenwood District rose from the ashes. By 1942, it boasted 242 black-owned and black-operated business establishments. Big Mama Speaks speaks to the triumph of the human spirit.

While we rightfully celebrate the distance we have come from the racial tinderbox of old, the journey continues. The landmark 2008 Presidential election did not magically snuff out our racial problems. Racism is far too complex and systemic a phenomenon to be so easily extinguished. Talk of a new, “post-race” America seems, at best, idealistic; at worst, delusional.

“Race,” a social construct of dubious biological significance, profoundly defines American life. Tethered to American slavery and its first-born son, “Jim Crow,” race emerged as an instrument of social control.

Societal norms deemed African stock to be irrefutably racially inferior. The rule of hypodescent prevailed: mixed-race children inherited the status of the “racially inferior” parent. One drop of black blood marginalized and minimized one’s worth and value in society.

Race consigned African Americans to the social, political, and economic nadir in American society. The dominant culture exerted iron-fisted dominion over persons of any African ancestry whatsoever, using race to empower and to subjugate; to enrich and to impoverish; to anoint and to annihilate.

It is not possible to understand America without first learning the rudiments of race, both conceptually and practically, and its enduring legacy. How has race molded individual psyches? How has race shaped our intergroup and interpersonal relations? How has race sculpted the allocation of power and privilege?

Many of us long for the day when a “post-race” worldview reigns, a vantage that acknowledges the psychosocial realities of race, but does not attach determinative status to them. But we are not there yet. We are not even close.

True, the ascendancy of a Mr. Obama to the highest office in the land signaled a profound generational change in possibilities for certain African Americans and other persons of color. That notwithstanding, in wake of Mr. Obama’s rise, gross racial disparities persist in virtually all aspects of our lives: education, employment, poverty, and the criminal justice system, just to catalogue a few. Whether these grim statistics are driven primarily by systemic racism, other individual and sociological factors (e.g., lack of initiative, character deficits, family dysfunction), or some combination of these remains a bone of contention.  Few argue that race plays no role in these alarming inequities.

Our challenges today around race are no longer simply bilateral. Discussions about race, racism, and racial reconciliation have to extend beyond black and white and, indeed, outside the color wheel. A more expansive, ongoing dialogue is in order. We need to engage one another around our “diversity,” the particular attributes and characteristics that make us who we are, and the correlative concept of “inclusion,” the affirmative embrace of differences, with understanding and appreciation, coupled with an acknowledgement of our shared humanity.

We are black and white, to be sure, but we are also brown and red and yellow and gay and disabled and female and military and Catholic and elderly and….

There is an emerging critical mass, a collective of the concerned, who recognize leveraging our diversity and fostering inclusion are essential if we are to live up to our American ideals; if we are to be competitive in the twenty-first century.

The urgency of now is upon us. It is time to use the familiar tools of sustained dialogue, personal and institutional commitments, and investments of time and money to move the needle still further, and even beyond the ambitious ideal of a “post-race” society.

Why not expand our vision? Why not look thoughtfully at the varied and complex diversity and inclusion issues we face? Why not set our sights even higher? I long for a pro-inclusion America.

Hannibal B. Johnson, a Harvard Law School graduate, is an author, attorney, and consultant. Johnson also teaches at the University of Oklahoma and Oklahoma State University in Tulsa.  

The words “law” and “justice,” most often coupled sequentially as “law and justice,” fit together like handmaidens. Historically and strategically, African-Americans have been true believers in the marriage of these concepts. From abolition to civil rights, African-American liberation movements viewed changes in the law as the primary means by which to achieve our ultimate end, “justice.” Over time, we successfully challenged many of the laws that oppressed us. Whether our concerted push toward equality before the law has led to justice is, at best, an open question.

Is our continued faith in law as the chosen vehicle for social change and, ultimately, “justice,” misplaced? Stated differently, does “the law,” even when neutrally applied, lead inexorably to “justice,” or is there more complexity to the equation?

One of our great American heroes and a shining star in the legal pantheon, the late Justice Thurgood Marshall, pondered those questions. On June 29, 1991, on the occasion of his retirement from the United States Supreme Court, Justice Marshall noted:

The legal system can force open doors, and sometimes, even knock down walls. But it cannot build bridges. That job belongs to you and me.

We can run from each other, but we cannot escape each other. We will only attain freedom if we learn to appreciate what is different and muster the courage to discover what is fundamentally the same.

Take a chance, won’t you? Knock down the fences that divide, tear apart the walls that imprison. Reach out, freedom lies just on the other side.

Justice Marshall, a stalwart soldier in the battle for African-American equality before the law, came to realize that “justice” requires more than the law alone can afford. Justice demands both legislative and spiritual awakening.

In his early career, Thurgood Marshall, a crackerjack lawyer trained at Howard University Law School, led a frontal assault on segregation on behalf of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (“NAACP”). He worked the legal system from within, deftly challenging discriminatory practices on Constitutional and other grounds. In cases like Sipuel v. Board of Regents of University of Oklahoma and Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka, Marshall tore down America’s wall of de jure segregation, brick by brick. Later, as Judge on the United States Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit, United States Solicitor General, and United States Supreme Court Justice, Marshall continued to give voice to the voiceless as an unwavering advocate for equality under the law.

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., another selfless champion of black liberation, emerged as the young leader of the yearlong, grassroots 1955 Montgomery Bus Boycott. From that humble platform, Dr. King catapulted onto the national and international stages. His acclaimed appearances, speeches, and writings made him the face of the twentieth century civil rights movement. Dr. King claimed the Nobel Peace Prize in 1964.

Dr. King galvanized African-Americans and their allies in a different type of challenge to inequality under the law: civil disobedience. He articulated the moral case for change. Many resisted—some violently—but fair-minded Americans responded. Congress passed The Civil Rights Act of 1964, The Voting Rights Act of 1965, and The Fair Housing Act of 1968. By the time an assassin’s bullet felled Dr. King on April 4, 1968, he and the movement he catalyzed had roused a slumbering nation into action. Many of the overt barriers to African-American progress had fallen.

Dr. King captured a profound truth when he noted: “We must all learn to live together as brothers or we will all perish together as fools.” He also famously observed: “We are tied together in the single garment of destiny, caught in an inescapable network of mutuality…. I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be. And you can never be what you ought to be until I am what I ought to be.”

Thurgood Marshall and Martin Luther King, Jr., icons on the civil rights movement, devoted their lives to equality under the law, ostensibly for African-Americans, but in reality for all Americans. These two men recognized that changing the legal system was necessary, but not sufficient, to make America a land of “liberty and justice for all.” Experientially, they learned there are limits to what the law can do. Beyond those outskirts lies, broadly speaking, a spiritual realm.

The notion of interconnectedness evident in the twentieth century words of both Justice Marshall and Dr. King remains an essential truth of the twenty-first century. Then and now, the extent to which justice prevails turns on more than simply “the law.” Justice depends, in no small measure, on “just us,” all of us, and our relationships one with another.

If we are ever to reach the pinnacle, the idealized state in which justice rains down like water and righteousness like a mighty stream, then we have to accept that which is fundamental: our shared humanity. Only through education and exposure, will that notion of shared humanity—the dignity and worth of every individual—be universally embraced.
The laudable changes in our legal landscape for which so many suffered, bled, and died have not led to full and equal “justice” for African-Americans. Not yet. Our charge is to figure out how to move the needle still further.

As African-Americans, we are over-represented in prisons, on welfare, and among the unemployed and uninsured. The educational achievement gap shows no sign of abating. On virtually all socioeconomic indicia of well-being, we lag behind. Where is the justice—fairness, equity, moral rightness—in that?

While we share responsibility for our perilous state, we alone did not cause and cannot rectify this ugly reality. As has been so often noted, the true test of a society is how it treats the least of those in its midst. It is about the interconnectedness and shared fate Justice Marshall and Dr. King preached. If we are to extricate ourselves from this morass, we will do it with the support of forward-thinking people of all persuasions who understand the folly of doing nothing. We will have to do more than make changes to our laws. We will have to change hearts and minds, too.

Genuine leaders recognize the connections and shared fate that unite us all. They build on that commonality of interest in ways that bring us together and embolden us to confront the challenges we face head-on. That sense of collectivism, though, runs counter to the individualistic, ego-driven mindset all too prevalent today. Fame and fortune are powerful lures. Too few opinion-shapers seem able to see beyond their own self-interest long enough to begin building the bridges—the social infrastructure—we so desperately need. They magnify differences and demonize the different instead of reminding us of how we are, essentially, one.

We face varied and complex diversity and inclusion issues. Working through them will require sustained dialogue, personal and institutional commitments, and considerable investments of time and money. Leadership is essential, but we each must do our part. Surely, there is a critical mass of people who understand that diversity is our ace in the hole; who see diversity as an invaluable asset that, like all assets, must be properly managed to realize optimum value.

In the end, it is all too simple: Treat one another with respect, dignity, and fairness. When we do that, we celebrate the richness of our diversity. We acknowledge our shared humanity. We live that national motto we have all come to know: e pluribus unum—out of many, one.

What might you do to better incorporate diversity and inclusion into your own life? How might you help build a more inclusive community where you are? A few simple steps follow:

• Expand your mind. Learn about your own diversity dimensions (e.g., your racial, ethnic, and cultural heritage) as well as that of others. Expand your horizons by discovering your own history and that of the world around you.
•  Know yourself. Get in touch with your feelings, preconceptions, and stereotypes. Know your own biases and work to eliminate them.
• Reach out. Step outside your comfort zone. Reach out to “the other”—someone from a different background.
• Listen. Pay attention to what others say about their experiences around diversity issues. Incorporate the lessons you learn into your own life
• Engage. Get involved with clubs and organizations, initiatives, and issues that embrace and foster diversity and inclusion. Be a champion.

We do honor to the memory and legacy of Justice Marshall and Dr. King when we run with the baton they handed off to us. We have to stride beyond mere equality under the law. If we want “justice,” then we must be willing to round the track as long as necessary to make the human connections that will ultimately win the race.

Hannibal B. Johnson, a University of Arkansas alumnus, is a Harvard Law School graduate. An author, attorney, consultant, and college professor, Johnson resides in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

Last fall, the Tulsa Area Human Resources Association held its first annual “Return on Inclusion” business summit. That TAHRA gathering of business leaders and professionals highlighted the significance of diversity and inclusion generally and, more critically, focused on how to make diversity and inclusion in the workplace a sustainable reality.

Last spring, the Tulsa Metro Chamber recast its Minority Business Council with a diverse coalition of volunteers led by Shane Fernandez, an architect and Tulsa Metro Chamber board member. Fostering diversity and inclusion within the chamber itself and among its member organizations is at the heart of that group’s mission.

Both TAHRA and the Tulsa Metro Chamber realize that if Tulsa is to move to the next level – to stay competitive now and in the future – both attitudes and behaviors around diversity and inclusion must change. That change begins with reflection on two key questions: (1) What do we mean by “diversity and inclusion”? ; and (2) Why should we embrace those particular values?

“Diversity,” the myriad ways we differ from one another, and “inclusion,” the willing acknowledgement and acceptance of those differences, go hand-in-hand.

Diversity and inclusion – respecting the dignity and valuing the worth of each and every individual – are business essentials and moral musts. Profound demographic shifts and increasing globalization make a compelling business case for diversity and inclusion. Age-old religious and philosophical traditions
cement the moral foundation.

Research suggests there is a competitive edge to be gained from managing and leading diversity and inclusion. Figuring out how to make the “people pieces” in an organization work together builds stronger, healthier businesses.

How, then, might organizations leverage the diversity within their ranks and foster inclusion in ways that elevate all stakeholders?

At the institutional level, championing diversity and inclusion requires: (1) defining “diversity” broadly; (2) conducting an audit; (3) cultivating awareness; (4) crafting a strategic plan; (5) formulating a communications strategy; (6) building a sense of ownership; and (7) securing top-level commitment.

The payoff for investments in diversity and inclusion may be significant. Reported returns have included:
Sharpened competitive advantage in a global economy;
Broadened creativity and innovation;
Expanded perspectives;
Improved products and services;
Reduced turnover (and hence, lower training costs);
Enlarged markets;
Lowered health care costs (as a result of a more supportive, nurturing workplace);
Heightened employee self-image;
Decreased risk of employment litigation;
Enhanced community standing.
In the business world, diversity and inclusion initiatives are no longer exceptional or exotic. These efforts have become the norm in prominent companies such as American Airlines, Wal-Mart Stores Inc. and Williams Cos. Inc. They are at the core of an enterprise’s ability to thrive. What is more, diversity and inclusion efforts present an opportunity to align “doing things right” and “doing the right things” – business essentials and moral musts.

Properly conceived, diversity and inclusion lead inexorably to the realization of a shared humanity. We are not lonely, isolated islands adrift on a vast sea of life, whether in our professional or private lives. Rather, we are connected to and interdependent with others, all of whom deserve our respect and fair treatment. In the end, our commonalities with those who share this web of connections trump whatever differences may exist.

Hannibal B. Johnson is an author, attorney and consultant specializing in diversity and inclusion, human relations, leadership, and nonprofit management and governance. The Harvard Law School graduate teaches at Oklahoma State University and the University of Oklahoma, and has taught at the University of Tulsa College of Law.

In life, Tulsa’s hometown hero, Dr. John Hope Franklin, challenged us to identify that which is broken in the world, and then set about fixing it. That legacy has now passed to the Tulsa institution that bears his name, The John Hope Franklin Center for Reconciliation (the “Franklin Center”). The Franklin Center is focused on pushing forward racial reconciliation.
Tulsa is a fitting venue for racial reconciliation work of national scope. As is true of so many other American communities, our history still haunts us. Because we have been slow to acknowledge and, where appropriate, apologize and atone, we have allowed old wounds to fester and new ones to surface.

Tulsa is the site of the worst “race riot” in American history. The catastrophic 1921 Tulsa Race Riot obliterated the prosperous, nationally renowned Greenwood District, “Black Wall Street.” In fewer than twenty-four hours, people, property, hopes, and dreams vanished. The Greenwood District burned to the ground. Property damage ran into the millions. Scores, likely hundreds, of people died. Many others lay injured. Many African-Americans fled Tulsa, never to return. In an instant, Tulsa stood defiled and defined. We are, in some respects, still recovering.

The decades-long silence surrounding this tragic past left an air of suspicion and mistrust among some sectors of the community. The absence of dialogue, let alone, truth, about the city’s darkest hours tarnished black/white relations for generations.

Only by owning our history do we stand a chance of real racial reconciliation. Coming to grips with our racialized past requires intentional, constructive engagement. The Franklin Center has already initiated a number of trust-building, reconciliatory projects.

The Franklin Center launched its inaugural national symposium, Reconciliation in America: Moving Beyond Racial Violence (the “Symposium”) earlier this month. Plenary and concurrent sessions during the Symposiumexplored: (1) current academic research addressing the American history of racial violence; and (2) community programs, projects, and initiatives that seek to build bonds across racial lines and mend communities riven by racial strife, past and present. A town hall meeting provided insight into the role of the Franklin Center locally and nationally.

In addition to the Symposium, the Franklin Center has already undertaken a number of other ambitious initiatives:

• Groundbreaking for John Hope Franklin Reconciliation Park, with Dr. John Hope Franklin making what would be his final public appearance (November 2008);
• The formation of a steering committee on 1921 Tulsa Race Riot curriculum development for the Tulsa Public Schools;
• A community-wide meeting on assessing race relations in Tulsa, in conjunction with the University of Oklahoma Center of Applied Research for Nonprofit Organizations;
• An Inaugural Dinner of Reconciliation featuring Dr. Scott Ellsworth, a Franklin protégée, as speaker, with the presentation of Hope Awards to three Tulsa Mayors;
• A tribute book, Remembering John Hope Franklin, featuring personal essay from his colleagues;
• A documentary study, The Power of Memory: Tulsa, Greenwood, and the 1921 Tulsa Race Riot, that will explore historical memory about the 1921 Tulsa Race Riot in multiple generations of a few families, black and white; and
• The John Hope Franklin Medal of Reconciliation, which will be awarded for exemplary work in the arena of racial healing.

John Hope Franklin helped illuminate, and then span, our generations-old racial chasm. We honor his memory when we do the hard work necessary to sustain the momentum he and others generated toward racial reconciliation. That is what the Franklin Center is all about.

Hannibal B. Johnson, a Harvard Law School graduate, is an author, attorney, and consultant specializing in diversity issues, human relations, and non-profit management & governance. He has taught at The University of Tulsa College of Law, Oklahoma State University, and The University of Oklahoma. His books, Black Wall Street, Up from the Ashes, and Acres of Aspiration, chronicle the African-American experience in Oklahoma and its indelible impact on American history. His memoir, Mama Used to Say, is an inspirational tribute to motherhood. No Place Like Home is a middle reader set in the all-Black town of Boley, Oklahoma. His latest book, IncogNegro—Poetic Reflections on Race & Diversity in America, opens a dialogue on issues of difference and on our overarching “shared humanity.”