If Inclusion Feels Like an Interruption, Exclusion Was Designed In

When “The Flow” Excludes

Years ago, I directed a summer undergraduate research program at a prominent university. Our students were curious and committed future researchers. Each week, we hosted faculty research seminars.

One year we hosted a Deaf student and provided an ASL interpreter. Every faculty presenter was informed ahead of time that they would be joined by the interpreter. We asked them to please be prepared to make space for interpretation, and let me know if they had any questions. Most speakers welcomed the guidance, but some may have missed it.

During one specific faculty seminar, the professor reached a pivotal moment showing luminescence within a tissue section? I can't exactly recall. But to make the visuals clearer, they turned off the lights. In that moment, our student couldn’t see the interpreter signing, or the speaker talking. Without visibility, communication stopped. I gently intervened to request that the professor narrate only when the lights were on, so that the interpretation could be visible. The speaker complied.

Later, I learned that the professor was upset: the request had thrown off their flow, and they lost time and ability to fully explain their research. Their frustration wasn’t just about logistics, it was about having to adjust their plan, real-time, to meet the actual needs of everyone in the room, and it felt like because of this, they were not fully able to ensure everyone's understanding of the material.

Our student came to me afterward, angry and disappointed too. They were frustrated that speaking with the lights on was viewed as an inconvenience and a problem. Their anger wasn’t misplaced. Their disappointment wasn’t only personal, it was yet another display of how the scientific academic and research system wasn’t designed for them.

I was upset too, that my summer research student had to experience this, and at the failure of design, preparation, flexibility, and shared responsibility I was also in a position to ensure. My apologies, while accepted, were not enough. I checked in again with the remaining seminar speakers. I also made sure to double-check with every faculty member immediately prior to the start of their seminar to ensure they were prepared for ASL translation during their talk. While successful, this was a short term systems fix, and not a long term solution.

If Inclusion Feels Like a Disruption, Exclusion Was Designed In

That moment taught me a truth that applies far beyond one seminar:

When inclusion feels like an interruption, it means exclusion was already designed in.

I know that the faculty member wasn't purposefully preventing access to their information. It wasn’t that the speaker couldn’t adjust. It was that they didn’t expect it. As the majority of us do, they designed their talk for an audience who could see, hear, and process information the same way they did.

The story above is an example of when exclusion happens across systems. We also regularly see similar examples at work:

✅ Hiring processes designed for people with traditional credentials and uninterrupted work histories.

✅ Meetings designed around who’s in the room, and not who’s missing because of caregiving schedules or accessibility barriers.

✅ Leadership pipelines designed for people who’ve always been in proximity to power.

✅ Performance evaluations designed around extroverted, dominant-culture communication norms.

Every policy, every process, every practice is designed by someone, for someone. The only question is: who? And who has to work harder to fit?

Inclusion bolted onto inequitable design will always feel like friction - because the underlying system wasn’t built to hold everyone.

What If Inclusion Was the Starting Point?

Imagine if that seminar had been designed from the start with a diversity of learners in mind:

✅ Narrated visuals planned into the presentation.

✅ Slides with built-in captions and alt text.

✅ Timing structured to allow pauses for interpretation.

✅ Faculty supported ahead of time in preparing accessible talks.

It wouldn’t have been “interrupted.” It would have worked for everyone.

This is what it means to operationalize equity at the design level.

And it’s not limited to classrooms. Every organizational process is a design opportunity.

👉 Hiring:

• Review job descriptions for unnecessary degree requirements.

• Use skills-based assessments instead of subjective “culture fit” interviews.

• Include multiple reviewers from different backgrounds to reduce bias.

  
  

👉 Meetings:

• Send agendas in advance, with clear objectives.

• Include captions or transcripts for virtual meetings.

• Schedule with time zones, caregiving schedules, and access needs in mind.

  
  

👉 Performance reviews:

• Evaluate based on documented outcomes, not subjective impressions.

• Create multiple ways for employees to demonstrate leadership, not just through public speaking or visibility.

  
  

👉 Leadership development:

• Identify high-potential talent through sponsorship, not just “who’s already leading.”

• Offer mentoring across identities and power positions.

  
  

👉 Internal communications:

• Use plain language.

• Offer content in multiple languages and modalities.

• Include captions, image descriptions, and accessible formatting as defaults.

  
  

👉 Physical spaces:

• Use universal design and not compliance-level minimums.

• Include lactation rooms, prayer spaces, gender-inclusive restrooms as standard.

  
  

👉 Cultural norms:

• Interrogate what’s labeled “professional” or “appropriate.”

• Make flexibility, adaptability, and care leadership competencies instead of optional soft skills.

  
  

Inclusion as Design, Not Accommodation

The problem isn’t people’s access needs. The problem is systems designed to center a narrow default and ask everyone else to self-advocate, retrofit, or endure.

👉 Inclusion isn’t an accommodation. It’s a leadership practice. It’s a design choice. It’s a power shift.

When inclusion is built into the process - not bolted on after complaints - it doesn’t slow things down. It makes the system more durable, adaptable, and humane.

That summer, I did what I could in the moment: I adjusted how we prepared each seminar individually. I met with every presenter before their talk to review how they would support interpretation and accessibility. It was a necessary short-term fix, but this shouldn’t have been a matter of individual intervention.

There should have been clear guidance in the university’s own documentation - standards and expectations for accessible teaching and presenting. Faculty and students alike should have had training and resources on how to design and deliver accessible presentations. Access shouldn’t have relied on whether a program director happened to know what to ask for.

👉 Access must be built into institutional infrastructure, not left to chance or individual champions.

Had that system been in place, our student wouldn’t have had to spend energy wondering if they belonged. They wouldn’t have had to navigate surprise barriers.

They could have spent their energy fully where it belonged: on learning and discovery.

That’s the real goal. And that’s the standard we should be building toward.

Operationalizing Equity: Leadership Is in the Design

As an equity strategist, I work with organizations who say, “We want everyone to thrive here.”

My question is always:

👉 Where have you already decided who gets to thrive? Where is the design privileging some, burdening others, excluding many?

Operationalizing equity means redesigning those systems. From hiring to onboarding. From meetings to promotions. From communication channels to conflict resolution.

It’s not about accommodating individuals. It’s about building systems that expect and welcome human difference from the start.

Action Steps: Audit and Redesign

🔥 Pick one process you own - a meeting, a job posting, a feedback mechanism. Map who it’s designed for, who it works for, and who it excludes.

🔥 Build in access as a default, not a request. Narrate visuals. Use captions. Translate materials. Offer hybrid options. Expand ways people can engage.

🔥 Shift accountability. If access “disrupts” the process, it’s the process that needs redesign - not the access.

🔥 Don’t let fear of “getting it wrong” stop you from acting. Do the best you can with the knowledge you have. And when you get feedback? Listen, learn, and do better.

Inclusion is a practice, not a one-time checklist. It requires both courage and humility.

About the Author

Tenea Watson Nelson, PhD is an equity strategist, educator, and founder of Watson Nelson Consulting. With a background in higher education leadership, she helps organizations operationalize equity by embedding inclusion into design, policy, and practice as a blueprint, not an afterthought.

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