Welcome to the nineteenth edition of the Floorish newsletter dedicated to providing you with insightful data, ideas and views on diversity, equity and inclusion. In this newsletter, taking no more than 3 minutes of your time, I aim to keep you informed and inspired with thought-provoking content, practical tips and inspiring stories.
Behind the Pride Curtain
Last week, I organised a Pride event at work — this time together with other organisations in our office building. That meant even more time, coordination, and care than usual. But honestly? It was worth every bit of effort. Especially now — because moments like this are needed more than ever.
But in the days that followed — reading reflections, hearing people’s stories, noticing who made sure Pride didn’t go unnoticed — I found myself thinking. Not just about the event, but about who does the work behind these moments. Whose shoulders the burden of inclusion usually lands on.
Let’s be honest. Organising a Pride event — or any event promoting inclusion — isn’t just about celebration. It’s often emotional labour. Invisible effort. Quiet resilience that doesn’t make it into the highlights reel. You pour in time, heart, and values. You chase colleagues, look for speakers who truly connect, and fight for messaging bold enough to be real — but still “safe” enough to get approved. You run comms, update intranets, send reminders… all while quietly hoping people will come.
So here are some thoughts. A little raw, a little uncomfortable — but hopefully also a nudge for reflection, and maybe a shift in how we show up.
Unseen Work, Unshared Weight
And sometimes… people don’t show up. Yes, people are busy. Deadlines, client work, endless meetings. But showing up is still a choice. And choices reflect priorities. If inclusion really matters, why don’t we treat it like it’s critical to how we do business? Pride is about joy, yes — but it’s also about visibility, solidarity, and letting others into a reality they might not live every day. When people don’t make time for that, the silence speaks volumes.
And it’s rarely about numbers alone. It’s about the absence of presence. The senior leader who calls themselves an ally but never shows up. The colleague who says “great job” in private but avoids the event. The person who likes the post, but not enough to come.
We rarely talk about it — but we should: It’s almost always people from marginalised groups doing this work. They organise. They carry the emotional risk. They stay visible. And they do it on top of navigating systems not built for them.
Why is that? Why do those already carrying the most, keep carrying this too?
Carrying Inclusion Together
Still — we keep going. Because when even one person shows up, it matters. When someone hears a new story, something can shift. Visibility, even when it feels like shouting into the void, still counts. Someone is always listening, even if they’re quiet about it. This is for everyone who’s ever stayed behind to pack up chairs no one sat in. Who’s asked themselves, Was it worth it? Yes. It was. It always is. But we can’t keep doing it alone.
So here’s a challenge: what if the burden of inclusion didn’t always fall on the same shoulders? What if the next International Women’s Day was organised by men? What if Pride was hosted by straight allies who said, “This matters to me too”? That would be powerful. We need to stop relying on the same faces. Those with power and privilege must take a turn holding the weight.
Inclusion cannot only belong to those who need it most. It must be a shared responsibility — embedded in how we lead, how we plan, and how we prioritise. Inclusion is not a favour. It is not a side project. It is foundational. And it is not sustainable unless we carry it together. To everyone doing this work — quietly, persistently, with care: thank you. You are not alone. And more importantly, you shouldn’t be.
So — who will step forward next?
I hope these insights have sparked your curiosity and I invite you to share any data, ideas or views you believe should be highlighted in future newsletters. Stay tuned for the next edition.
Warm regards,
Floor Martens
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