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DEI training: what if we learned differently?
Self-advocacy training in a context of diversity and inclusion: make your voice heard!
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“I don’t know if I’m using the right word, but…”
“I don’t know if it’s correct to say this, but…”
If we got a dollar every time we heard that in training, we could fund EDI for the next 20 years!
We hear these phrases all the time, and they tell us something fundamental: people want to do the right thing. They want to understand, ask questions, and reflect on their instinctive reactions. But they don’t want to be judged or feel like they’re at fault. And that’s a challenge for any DEI initiative: how can we create a space where people can learn without embarrassment, fear, or fatigue taking over?
Why is it blocking?
Let’s be honest: as soon as you say the words “DEI training,” you sometimes see people looking down, sighing, or crossing their arms. Not because they are against inclusion, but because they are afraid of:
- say things badly;
- be accused of ignorance, or even racism;
- having to pretend to understand everything at once;
- or even being on the defensive for two hours.
Added to this is an important reality: DEI is not a neutral or technical subject. Taking a DEI training course is not like learning how to use new software. It touches on emotions, identities, and personal histories. For some people, it brings up memories of injustices they have experienced. For others, it challenges deeply held beliefs.
So sometimes we end up with participants who drop out not because they don’t want to learn… but because it’s too much, too fast. Some people feel overwhelmed by the number of issues to take in, the terms to master, and the adjustments to make. Others, from marginalized groups, feel once again obliged to “represent” their identity or educate others.
Behind every eye that looks away, every sigh, or every crossed arm during a DEI activity, there is rarely a conscious rejection of the values of inclusion. Instead, there are very human defense mechanisms at play. And that is precisely why it is essential to understand the reasons for this resistance… and to know how to defuse it.
1. Fear of being judged
One of the most common obstacles (and this is backed up by neuroscience!) is the fear of making a mistake: saying the wrong word, using an outdated term, or asking a question that could be misinterpreted. In many circles, people no longer dare to broach certain subjects for fear of offending or being singled out.
This fear creates silence, and this silence hinders learning.
The same sentence can be received with openness… or with resistance, depending on the tone, context, and level of psychological safety. If I feel that I can make a mistake without being humiliated, I will dare to express myself. If I feel that I am being spoken to as if I should already know everything, I will shut down.
To counter this, we need to move away from the school model where a mistake is equivalent to a fault. We need a learning environment where mistakes are not met with sighs or embarrassed looks, but with an invitation to discuss. DEI is a field where we learn to readjust, not to be perfect on the first try. When we understand this, the pressure is off, and exchanges become more genuine.
2. Feeling personally targeted
Some people hear “privilege” or “bias” and immediately feel on the hot seat. It’s as if acknowledging an unfair system means feeling guilty for being part of it. This confusion between “I am part of a system” and “I am personally to blame for the existence of this system” creates a tension that is difficult to overcome if it is not addressed and prevents people from questioning it, especially white people.
It has been proven that the more the teaching approach attempts to fill an information gap
(“here’s what you don’t know”), the more this feeling of being accused grows. That is why it is essential to implement approaches that allow for distance while maintaining impact. DEI training often relies on what is known as the information deficit model: the assumption is that participants do not know and that simply giving them the right answers will solve “the problem.” But this approach quickly creates resistance, as it can be perceived as accusatory and come across as “you are ignorant, let me correct you.”
Working with examples, fictional characters, and scenarios rooted in the world of work allows these issues to be addressed without pointing fingers. Using a deck of cards, for example, we can talk about what a character is going through, what a fictional colleague could have done differently, and this educational detour makes learning less threatening… but just as impactful.
3. Cynicism or change fatigue
Some participants arrive at training sessions with their arms crossed… but not necessarily because they are against DEI. Sometimes it is fatigue from all these initiatives that lead nowhere. Other times, it is weariness in the face of speeches that are the same year after year. This cynicism is often a reflection of previous experience: we have heard it all before and nothing has changed.
To rekindle interest, we need to reconnect DEI with reality. To the team’s concrete challenges. To everyday decisions. Above all, we must show that change is possible. Not with grand promises, but with small, concrete victories, such as a revised interview grid, a more inclusive meeting, or a change in the way new people are welcomed. It is these tangible actions that rebuild trust.
A game as a pretext for starting real conversations
At URelles, we believe that you learn best when you can think without pressure. When you have the right not to
All of the approaches mentioned so far (providing a supportive environment, avoiding guilt, encouraging experimentation, eliciting emotions, reconnecting DEI with everyday life) are not just abstract best practices. They are the concrete foundations that guided the creation of our card game “
Mettons que..
”. Because yes, there are tools that make these principles tangible, applicable, and reproducible in real team life.
The game was born out of this simple observation: we need to talk about DEI differently. Not with fixed definitions or illustrations to memorize, but based on what people experience, feel, and share. We need a playful framework, but not a trivial one; depersonalized, but not detached; structured, but flexible. And that’s exactly what the game allows us to do.
You pick a card. You meet a fictional character: a colleague of color who has to present her expertise to management, a neurodivergent employee who attends a work happy hour, a person in gender transition who is in contact with international clients.
And then we discuss it. Not to find the right answer, but to explore:
➡️ What would I do?
➡️ Why does this make me uncomfortable?
➡️ Have I ever experienced or seen a similar situation?
The game depersonalizes without trivializing. It takes the pressure off. It’s not about us, but… well, a little bit, because we often recognize a colleague, a loved one, or a past version of ourselves.
Conclusion
As we facilitated the rounds, we came to understand something (that everyone who works in skills development already knows): it’s not so much the questions we ask, but the emotion they trigger.
Resistance to DEI should not be seen as an insurmountable barrier, but as a message: something is not working in the way we approach the subject. By changing the framework, focusing on emotion, participation, and psychological safety, we can transform resistance into curiosity. And sometimes even into commitment.
Il ne s’agit pas de convaincre tout le monde en une heure. Il s’agit de créer les conditions d’un dialogue honnête. Et de semer, petit à petit, les graines d’un changement durable.
