I’ve found myself doing something I don’t always give myself permission to do. Reflect. Not just on the big, bold wins of progress we’ve made as a society or in our workplaces, though they matter, but on the quiet, personal journey I’ve taken just to be okay with who I am.
I’m a 30-year-old gay man. I’m single and honestly; I’m still figuring it out.
There's a common myth that says by 30, you’re meant to be settled, secure and sorted. I am none of those things in the way the world expects. I’ve spent years trying to squeeze myself into shapes that didn’t quite fit. Trying to be what I thought was acceptable in all manners, professionally, socially and even romantically. I often felt like I was on the outside of every group, even the groups I technically belonged to.
It's sad and it is even more upsetting knowing I’m not alone in that.
This is why Diversity and Inclusion, D&I from here, isn’t just a corporate checkbox for me. It’s personal. It’s survival. It’s freedom!
It was my career in politics that started to help me breathe again. You know, to be seen and to be heard. I was invited to bring my story to the table and that invitation changed everything. That space gave me the courage to show up as me. Unfiltered and uncertain, but unapologetically real.
But if politics helped me find my voice, my work at Oscar Mayer has helped me trust it.
Working in D&I at Oscar Mayer has stretched me further than I ever expected, professionally and personally. It challenges me in ways politics never did, holding up a mirror to parts of myself I hadn’t dared to look at and yet, at the same time, it’s made me happier than I’ve ever been in my work.
At Oscar Mayer, in the boardrooms and our factory floors, in quiet 1:1s and bold campaigns, I’ve found something I didn’t always believe existed: allies.
Real, everyday allies. People I might not have expected to care about inclusion and yet they do. Deeply. People who stand beside others, speak up when it’s uncomfortable and open doors that were never meant to be shut.
That kind of allyship reignited something in me: a fierce passion of equity for everyone. Not just for people who look or live like me but for anyone who has ever felt othered, overlooked or indeed, unheard.
We often define D&I through the lenses of race, gender, sexuality, age, disability and yes, those identities absolutely matter but true inclusion must go deeper. It must reach the spaces we don’t talk about enough.
Because D&I is also about:
The single parent trying to juggle deadlines and school runs.
The introvert with brilliant ideas who’s overshadowed in every meeting.
The junior colleague from a council estate, learning to navigate corporate culture.
The person caring for a parent with dementia, silently burning out.
The person who’s never been promoted because they "don’t quite fit in.”
The person who’s still finding the courage to be themselves, whoever that might be.
D&I isn’t just about visibility. It’s about dignity. It’s about making space for complexity, contradiction and growth.
This work also isn’t just morally right, it’s undeniably smart in all honesty. For example, studies show that companies in the top quartile for racial and ethnic diversity are 35% more likely to outperform their industry peers. Inclusive companies are twice as likely to meet or exceed financial targets, six times more likely to be innovative and eight times more likely to have better business outcomes.
However, beyond performance metrics, here’s what I know for certain: when people feel safe, they thrive. When they feel seen, they shine. When they feel supported, they soar.
At Oscar Mayer, I want us to do more than pay lip service to inclusion. I want us to lead with empathy, act with courage, and constantly ask ourselves:
Who isn’t in this room and why?
Who’s being talked over or not talked to at all?
Who’s hiding parts of themselves to survive?
Behind every identity box we tick on a form is a person with a story. A messy, beautiful, complicated story. I think about that often. About the kid I used to be, scared to speak too loudly, terrified of being “found out,” constantly shape-shifting to fit in. I wish he could see me now, leading D&I at a national level. Not because I’ve figured it all out but because I haven’t, and I’ve stopped pretending I need to.
To anyone who feels like they don’t quite belong at work, at home, in the world, this is for you.
You are not too much.
You are not too different.
You are not alone.
Let’s keep showing up for each other. Let’s celebrate our differences, honour each other’s truths and commit to creating spaces where nobody must leave part of themselves at the door.
