The Minority Report

Last week, we celebrated “Diversity Day” at work, where our company CEO held a town hall and proclaimed his everlasting commitment to diversity.  That is, he’s working hard at it, but “we still have a ways to go.”  He then introduced an ex-NBA star who shared his thoughts on the matter: first, he told us that diversity “drives ROI”, and second, he told us that black people don’t eat scones.  It was a rousing start to our commitment to challenge racial stereotypes.  D-Day finally ended with a montage of clips, concluding on one where Michael Scott from The Office called us all “homos”… homo sapiens.   

There’s been a lot of talk about diversity lately, even outside of our company.  The buzz around the U.S. Census has somewhat validated the Harvard fluff class “Counting People”, because, apparently it takes $10+ billion to do so.   But once the Census Bureau tabulates the results (by Dec. 31, 2010), most people expect that diversity will be the theme: minorities will become the majority in two of the largest states (California and Texas)… more than 40% of children under 18 will be non-white… and there will be a lot more people who hate scones, including Hispanics and Asians. 

As a diverse, first-generation, scone-hating female, I’ve always felt an unusual relationship to contrived diversity celebrations.  On the one hand, I think it’s great to highlight (and promote) people with different backgrounds … on the other hand, I believe that differentiating diversity also cheapens it, feeding resentment from “non-diverse” folks who now have something to blame (“she only got the job because she was a woman”).  It’s the whole affirmative action debate, revived… If we have Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, then shouldn’t Diversity Day be followed by a Homogeneity Day as well?

So, to test out my theory, I tried to celebrate Homogeneity Day today.  First, I took the subway to work, because it’s the New York thing to do.  I wedged myself between the door and a homeless man and tried to look as crazy as possible.  Once I got to work, I decided to follow the lead of a co-worker and try lemon tea.  Yes, it looked like a cup of hot, steaming pee, but I drank it in the spirit of togetherness.  At lunch, I continued my yellow-only theme by eating a plate of macaroni and cheese with chicken, corn, and rice pilaf.  I even seriously considered reading “Eat, Pray, Love” while listening to Justin Bieber.  

But at the end of the day, I wasn’t sure that I had captured the true essence of American homogeneity.  Was the typical American a red-blooded teabagger who enjoys shooting guns and protesting healthcare reform?  Or was the typical American a society-minded idealist who eats kale and subscribes to progressive list-servs just to feel good about themselves?  Is diversity defined just by the color of our skin, or the money in our banks, or the links to our ethnic heritage?  Or, could it also be determined by our judgment of Tiger Woods (gross), or our opinion of goat cheese (gross), or whether we have a gag reflex to Sarah Palin (yes)?   

Diversity Day should be intended to celebrate and accept our differences — all of our differences, not just the noticeable ones.  But every once in a while, we should also celebrate our common thread of humanity.  Because like Mr. Scott said, at the core, we’re all just homos.