Last week Elizabeth Engel put up a very short post about a new TED conference focused on women, expressing her displeasure with "ghettoizing" women by creating a separate conference. The post then became one of the most "comment-worthy" in the association space for a few days. Check out all the comments, because that's where the interesting dialogue is. 

There were two interesting themes for me in the conversation.

First, there were many women who expressed some sort of offense to either the idea of a separate woman-focused conference or, more specifically, the way the organizers defended their decision once it was criticized. After those posts, there were a few men who basically said, "Yeah but you shouldn't have been offended because the TEDWomen conference was intended to be supportive and empowering for women."

Here's a tip. When someone says they are offended, it RARELY, if ever, helps to tell them that they shouldn't be feeling what they are feeling. When someone is offended, the first thing you should talk about is them, not you. Find out more why they feel offended. If you had a part in it, then apologize for offending them, even if you completely didn't mean to offend them. Still apologize for the IMPACT you had. Once that person feels like they've been heard and their experience has been acknowledged, then they will probably be ready to hear some more about your good intentions. 

Second, there was a little back and forth about whether women were "second class citizens" in the US, and a man pushed back suggesting we ask Hilary Clinton and Carly Fiorina and other women who have made it to the top of their field if they felt the same way.

I don't know what Carly and Hilary think, but let's switch things up hypothetically. If I (a man) were a US senator, and men were 51% of the population, and I looked around at my 99 senate colleagues and saw only TWELVE other male faces, I might be thinking about my gender's status, despite my one individual success story. Same is true if I were a Fortune 500 CEO and at a CEO-only networking event, struggling to find the other men in the room in case I wanted to ask them about gender equity issues, but finding it hard given there would be 487 women milling about and only 13 men. These statistics (along with similarly horrific pay disparity numbers) have been visible for decades, but it seems very difficult for men to actually let them sink in. We instead tend to see small bits of positive data (a few success stories) and conclude that things are better.

But that's what makes diversity such a tough nut to crack. It's not only the fact that it is system-wide and very complex (thus a hard problem to solve no matter what), it also has built in protection mechanisms. Men are benefiting from privileges in a sexist system, but are at the same time socialized in ways that make it extremely difficult for them to be aware of those privileges. We just don't see it or feel it. We feel like we are being treated equally, because that's the way we think it should be. That's what we want. Unfortunately, that is precisely what makes it difficult for us to start dismantling the system of inequality.

The same is true, by the way, along other dimensions of inequality in our society. It's hard for white people to understand how much privilege we have. It's hard for heterosexuals to understand what the GLBT community is really going through. The systems that perpetuate the inequality survive precisely because they have managed to convince the people with the upper hand…that the privilege doesn't exist.

Jamie Notter