By dint of hearing the word repeated inclusive, one wonders if it does not now belong to a majority who would have appropriated it in order to avoid being perceived as non-inclusive or if it can still really serve its purpose. Detached from the flattering effects of calling oneself inclusive, the term lingers, in the shadows, to undo inequalities. But this word can easily become a veneer more than a base, a criterion more than a value, a surrender more than a voluntary decision.
What do we really want to honor when we use it? A recent dictionary Larousse proposes the following definition: “Which contains in itself something else. Like having, in our television landscape for example, what is not self-evident out of habit and repetition. Thus, when a person from a minority group is put forward, not only can we see an inclusive proposal, but their mere presence also reveals the exclusion to which they have been subject until then.
This can be seen in the reactions to the presence of this person in the heartfelt comments and public writings circulating about him. We also see it in its minority status, which remains in the eyes of those who see it and do not live this reality. This exceptional character nourishes the feeling that we owe this new visibility to a lucky star. But the latter comes in addition with the need to learn to navigate the effects that we generate by our mere presence. All this tells us that there is still a long way to go.
Because inclusion and representativeness should not be reduced to tolerating that we see a few people of diversity in our media. In such a case, it would not be taking a big step, but perhaps just too small a step.
Should we then reclaim the term and say that this discounted inclusion is not the inclusion with a capital letter that we are looking for? If a person from a minority group is seen, it is often because he corresponds to the choice of a majority, and therefore, to its criteria of tolerance. Does she become the representative of her group and, insidiously, of the goodwill of those who chose her?
By its nature, which requires constantly revisiting one’s reflexes and limits, it seems to me that inclusion as it is generally used here should never be considered an end in itself.
Seeing diversity, here and there, in waves, is like buying running shoes to never run. This is not how we will achieve our goal of equality. One step is not enough. Making a first necessarily implies others. People at the crossroads of oppressions often resign themselves to treading other race tracks, in parallel. They draw their own path and walk elsewhere. They can sometimes be seen running on the majority circuit, but there will always be a voice that is far too loud to tell them not to run too fast.
While this inclusion may pay off for some, it may be costly for others. To be inclusive, truly inclusive, is to ask ourselves how and why we don’t see certain faces. It’s normalizing the fact of finally seeing them and exposing the fact that they have been invisible for too long.
Although the forms of oppression modulate and slow down as the forms of violence modulate and slow down, so that our inclusions can exist and be free to exercise themselves morally and legally, we will have to commit ourselves to the other , no matter that other. However, nothing has yet been signed. It is only in our consciences, in our love for the time that has been given to us, in our pains and our joys, which are believed to be so personal but which are nevertheless so widespread, that we can truly make sense of in this term also abused. Let’s take this big step.