Inclusion Is Exclusion

We like to believe that inclusion is a pure good—that by including others, we're building a world where everyone belongs. But here's the uncomfortable truth: Inclusion is a form of exclusion.

Not because inclusion is bad. It's necessary. But if we're trying to use inclusion to create belonging, then exclusion will happen—whether we intend it or not.

We need to get real about that. If we want to build spaces where people genuinely feel like they belong, we have to stop pretending that inclusion is cost-free.

Part 1: Inclusion Creates Belonging—and Exclusion

If you include someone in a group, you're defining a boundary—however subtle—around who's in. And that definition always implies someone who's out. It's not always aggressive, but it's always there.

Let's look at two examples that show how inclusion inevitably creates exclusion, even when the intentions are good.

Let's say your company marches in a Pride parade. That's a clear act of inclusion for LGBTQ+ employees and allies. It signals: You belong here, and we support you—publicly.

But it also excludes.

Not just people who are actively opposed to LGBTQ+ rights, but also those who may personally accept LGBTQ+ individuals but don't feel comfortable making a public stand. Maybe they see Pride as too political, or feel that public endorsement crosses into a space they'd rather keep personal. These individuals might be quietly supportive, respectful, and decent coworkers—but now they feel pressure to participate in something that doesn't align with how they believe inclusion should look. And if they don't join in? They might start to feel like they don't belong.

Now flip the script.

Let's say your company throws a big Christmas party. That's a familiar, well-meaning gesture. For many, it signals inclusion: We're celebrating together. We're honoring tradition. It creates belonging for Christian employees—and for others who celebrate culturally, even if not religiously.

But it excludes, too.

It can make non-Christians feel peripheral. Jewish, Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist, atheist employees may feel like guests at someone else's party. Even those who enjoy the festivities might feel a subtle message: This space is built around someone else's norms.

In both cases, inclusion creates exclusion.
Different values, different boundaries—but the structure is the same.

The Pride parade includes those ready to be visibly supportive—and excludes those who are not.
The Christmas party includes those who share in the dominant culture—and excludes those outside it, whether by faith or preference.

Neither is wrong. But pretending they are neutral or universally welcoming is a mistake.

The real question isn't whether inclusion causes exclusion. It's whether the boundaries you're drawing align with your values—and whether you're willing to own them.

Part 2: The Power of Belonging Is Proportional to Exclusion

The stronger the boundary, the stronger the belonging.

If I'm at a party, and someone finds out I'm a Dodgers fan and lights up—"You too?!"—that's a strong moment of belonging. Not just because we both like the Dodgers, but because we've found something that not everyone shares.

But if someone says, "Oh cool, I like sports too," the signal is weaker. The category is bigger, the group is broader, and the feeling of belonging is fuzzier.

Belonging thrives in specificity. The smaller the in-group, the clearer the identity—and the more powerful the emotional payoff.

That's why high-trust teams are often small. It's why subcultures can feel so intense. And it's why some of the strongest feelings of belonging arise in groups that most of the world ignores—or even rejects.

We shouldn't confuse universal access with universal belonging. The more people are included, the more generic the shared identity must become. As that identity becomes more generic, the emotional experience of belonging gets diluted.

You can picture it as a curve:

A graph showing how sense of belonging decreases as group size increases

As group size increases, the felt intensity of belonging tends to drop.
Big, inclusive tents are admirable. But they rarely make people feel like they're home.

Part 3: Every Inclusion Is a Choice—So Choose Intentionally

If every act of inclusion creates some form of exclusion, then the real question is: Who are we willing to exclude?

When you design a workplace culture, when you signal support for a social cause, when you choose the stories you celebrate or the language you use—you're not just saying "this is welcome." You're also saying "this is normal here." And that can make someone else feel like an outsider.

Pretending otherwise is naive. It leads to bland cultures that try to appeal to everyone and end up resonating with no one.

Instead, be deliberate. Build belonging around things that actually matter to your mission, your values, your people. Be clear about the lines you're drawing, and why.

If you welcome people who speak up about injustice, be ready to make those who prefer silence uncomfortable.
If you prioritize creativity, don't pretend to be neutral toward rigidity.
If you center queer joy, don't act surprised when someone who isn't on board feels alienated.

That's not a bug. That's the cost of creating real belonging.

Part 4: Build Inclusion Around the Non-Negotiables

Inclusion can't be about everything.
It has to be about something.
And that something should be your non-negotiables.

These are the beliefs, values, or behaviors where you don't want diversity—because you want alignment. Things like:

A commitment to transparency or feedback
An embrace of experimentation and risk
A bias toward shipping and learning
Shared ownership of outcomes
A culture of respectful dissent
People Over Process

Building inclusion around your non-negotiables creates strong signals: This is who we are. If you're into that, join us. If not, that's okay, but this probably isn't your place.

Here's the paradox:

By building inclusion around the things where you don't want diversity, you make space for diversity everywhere else.

Once people know that the foundation is solid—that everyone in the room shares these key values—you create room for wide variation in everything else:

Backgrounds
Beliefs
Styles of work
Communication preferences
Lived experiences

Shared ground doesn't limit us—it unlocks us.

When we know where we stand together, we're free to bring more of ourselves to the work. Shared purpose lowers the fear that our differences will push us out—and makes space for our diversity to show up, contribute, and thrive.

Conclusion: Belonging Has Edges

We don't get to build meaningful inclusion without also drawing lines. And those lines exclude—whether we like it or not.

Inclusion is exclusion. The only choice we get is who we're excluding, and why.

So make that choice intentionally. Build belonging with your eyes open. Because if you try to make room for everyone, you'll end up building a space where no one truly feels at home.