National Park Service
Denver Service Center, Planning Division
12795 West Alameda Parkway
Lakewood, CO 80228
To the management team of DSC Planning,
I’ve learned a lot over the last 21 months with the NPS — about park planning... and about you and your office. Behind the slick document covers and agile use of real-time collaboration tools is an office that is not as progessive as it self-proclaims. While I, now formerly the only black employee in the division, can name several instances over my two-year tenure where this was painfully apparent, none top the many examples that occured during my involvement with the development of the strategic plan for the 250th Commemoration of the Declaration of Independence.
Let me start off by saying, when I first learned about this effort, I was inspired. Then Acting Deputy Director for Operations David Vela was using his power to set the tone for this momentous anniversary. He wanted to hear from his employees about how they think the National Park Service could lead an inclusive commemoration. He called on employees, particularly those who were members of Employee Resource Groups1 (ERGs), to develop recommendations that would inform all planning efforts for associated events of the commemoration. The thoughts of these employees were documented and shared with our planning team. It was an honor for me to further formalize these voices of empowered employees of color and allies in a strategic planning effort that would influence decision-making from now until 2026 — with the hopes of setting the stage for more inclusive practices for both public and workforce engagement. At the end of the section titled, “An Inclusive Commemoration and Beyond,” the document states:
“The time has come for action, bold leadership, and the creation of actual, authentic inclusivity for our agency and in how we engage others.” 2
To me, this was our charge. This was the most important thing I felt we needed to deliver on. That is why I, a Black planning division employee, became invested in this project.
“The gathered employees called upon the agency leadership to a moment of truth: no more lip service to inclusion.”
Mistakes were made, just as in any planning effort, but the mistakes made with this effort were fully within the power of the three white leaders of this project to correct. They just chose not to correct those mistakes, and you, the management team, stood idly by.
For example, the one member of our team who at least had previous experience facilitating discussions on topics such as implicit bias and equity was not designated a leader for this project. They (the senior white project leaders) could not see how that experience was relevant to this effort. According to them, as novel as this strategic plan was, there was no real reason to revisit our division’s approach to strategic planning in this case. I felt differently and alluded to this throughout the project. Clearly, they felt there was no need to dedicate any time, particularly at the start of this project, to discuss how we would ensure our planning process was inclusive in order to stay inline with this momentous charge. It would just happen without any additional effort, right?
They didn’t see the significance of a white man solely authoring the first draft of the vision and mission statements. Sure, this man is the de facto lead for the agency’s commemoration effort, and it’s not our place (and certainly not mine) to tell him that he can’t speak for everyone — that those statements were not drafted inclusively. I told a teammate that that didn’t sit right with me and he felt the same, but in the next team meeting the man was thanked for all his hard work, leaving no room for grievances.
“Just as the nation has been wrestling to authentically realize the values of the Declaration of Independence, the NPS has struggled to make its long-espoused value of inclusion a reality.”
We shared these statements with our future workshop participants for feedback. Based on the fact that the participants were chosen (not by us, of course) to make sure there was diverse representation of perspectives (BIPOC employees, lower level staff, etc.) — I knew the feedback would be critical. I knew that the feedback would hold us, the planning team, accountable for the word choice — and I was right.
A BIPOC employee shared the opinion that the statements were built on outdated generalizations and ignorant/uninformed assumptions, which was objectively true. A white employee shared the opinion that the 250th Commemoration had nothing to do with relevance, diversity and inclusion and, because of leadership pressure, we were just shoehorning it in. This put our planning team at a crossroads... As our team member with the relevant experience asked at the outset of the project, “Was our team ready?”
Was our team ready to lead a process to reconcile such polarizing participant perspectives?
Was our team ready to handle a project that required us to plan inclusively?
Was our team equipped with the knowledge and skills to approach discussions of diversity and equity, racial trauma and social justice, with tact?
The obvious answer was “No,” as there was no evidence that members of this planning team (let alone this office) had the aptitude to do so, particularly since the red flags mentioned went unnoticed by the project leadership. Yet, all I heard in the room was “Yes.” What a privilege it is to have that kind of blind optimism.
“Our staff and agency have no room left for empty talk of inclusivity.”
That same team member (you know, the one with the relevant experience?) spoke up in that moment. If it wasn’t for that team member, I am not sure if I ever would have gathered the courage to speak up in that moment too. Allies like that aren’t always in the room, but, when they are, it’s a powerful thing for a Black employee like me. It helps me find my voice -- the voice that has a well-informed stance on issues of diversity, equity and inclusion and the role of planning.
I openly supported my teammate’s comments, concerns and suggestions. I even offered some of my own. Our contributions were met with opposition and defensiveness. How dare we offer a counter-perspective on something they, the senior white project leaders, felt they could confidently handle better? Didn’t we know our roles were to conform and support their ideas, even if those ideas would lead us astray? Thank you for the gentle reminder.
I realize now it was our mistake for assuming this was a collaborative and open-minded work environment. That only applies for ideas that fit within the pre-established norms of this office, and matters of diversity, equity and inclusion fall outside of those parameters. How is it I can weigh in on programmatic and policy level changes for the contentious topics of funding and facility management in the NPS, but my contributions to help our team navigate discussions on race, equity and inclusion fell on deaf ears?
The truth is the approach you, the management team, silently cosigned lacked the sensitivity and understanding needed to make a project centered on diversity, equity and inclusion successful. Why invite the Black employee to the table if you are not going to actively listen to what they have to say and genuinely try to incorporate their feedback? Oh, it’s so you can say that, because I was involved, it couldn’t have not been inclusive. I’d obviously let you know if it wasn’t and you would dutifully self-correct.
You’re right. As the only Black employee on the planning team, it would be inappropriate for me to stand by an effort that I felt wasn’t truly delivering on its commitment to inclusivity and I did speak up when I felt that was the case. My words were met with blank stares, some nods and a transition onto the next agenda item. I knew nothing I could say would substantively change the direction or intent of this planning effort, so the only choice I felt I had was to leave the project.
“All will be depleted if our employees are asked to participate in a commemoration that speaks of values that are not truly accessible to all within the agency.”
It’s no secret that my decision to leave the project made you, the management team, very uncomfortable. In my dreams, I hoped that my departure from the project would stir up some self-reflection about what transpired and you would ask yourselves, “How could we successfully lead a truly inclusive planning effort for our participants when we cannot achieve inclusivity within our own team or office?”
Instead, it created a sense of panic. “How do we get the Black employee back onboard?” Mistakenly, you thought appeasing me was your biggest problem, and you couldn’t respect my decision to walk away. I didn’t appreciate being repeatedly approached about ‘reconsidering.’ That was beyond inappropriate. I was treated like a young, naive employee who made a hasty decision that needed more thought. I needed to do what was best for the office and the project, not for myself or those who look like me.
I was clear-headed when I made my decision to leave. I, as well as the BIPOC workshop participants, know the difference between getting the job done and doing the job right. The constraints on the project budget and schedule were not appropriate excuses for truncating well overdue conversations about how to make any event associated with commemorating the Declaration of Independence more inclusive. I voiced this many times, but the three senior white project leaders could not understand the significance of what I was trying to communicate. I consciously refuse to be the Black person who silently cosigns white ignorance.
Thus, our office sent an all-white planning team to facilitate a workshop that was attended by some of the most regarded BIPOC employees in the NPS. Why? Because these behaviors and blindspots pushed out the one Black employee you do have in the office. Those behaviours and blinspots also inevitably influenced how the team engaged their audience. The planning team did not have the vocabulary or the working knowledge to make this an inclusive experience and it showed.
I haven’t heard favorable reviews of the workshop. One participant shared with me that it was another failed attempt by the NPS to engage its BIPOC employees with an all-white staff standing at the front of the room and holding the pen. Another felt the BIPOC contributions were white-washed. “If that’s how they treat fellow employees, I can only imagine how they treat the public.” I’ve been told repeatedly what a disservice it was that I was not in attendance, but, after seeing the pitiful performance of the planning team, they also understand why I chose to walk away.
“Our employees are clear-headed when they tell us we will fail to achieve our aspirations of leading an inclusive commemoration if we ourselves cannot address what keeps us from becoming a diverse and inclusive agency.”
At the next all staff meeting, the planning team described the workshop as a “humbling experience.” Translation: I was right about that audience seeing through the team’s “lip service” and the team embarrassed themselves with their inability to have a robust conversation with BIPOC employees in order to craft a plan that truly met the ERGs’ charge. So what was your response, as the management team, to this experience? Training!
Most of the division staff didn’t really understand the impetus for this JEDI3 training. You tried to keep the “drama” associated with this project under wraps, but I knew the 250th workshop was a failure that forced you to admit you had some learning to do. However, training is just a bandage over a bullet wound.
For instance, how was the decision to put on this training made? Was it done inclusively? Were staff asked about what they felt their strengths and weaknesses are on these topics and what tools they think would most help them? Because, it appears to me that because you need training, we all have to get training. Notwithstanding the fact that if training on these issues really worked, perhaps the world would already be a different place. You fail to see that this isn’t just learning new words or policies, it’s about changing the way you think and do business.
I’m not afraid to say it: I don’t need training and, frankly, neither do some of your staff. There are those who need to start at the beginning (like you), there are those who have the vocabulary but may need more practice “talking the talk” and using the tools, and there are those who have learned on their own (and continue to do so) and just need empowerment or a platform to finally put into practice the change this office has needed for a long time. Did you know that management team? Because I did.
You have created a space where project concerns about diversity, equity and inclusion will not be followed up on because of your inability to see the relevance. You have created a space where decisions on what to do about diversity, equity and inclusion in the office are made prior to seeking input. You have created a space where your humility is only shared behind closed doors.
You have created a space where a young black woman doesn’t see a future for herself, even though she is passionate about equitable access to quality outdoor spaces and public service. Because being in this space means she must settle for the slow progress that has been the longstanding consolation prize for Black people in this country for generations.
“An authentically 250th commemoration is not possible without making significant strides toward becoming an inclusive workplace as well.”
I turned 27 on June 20, 2020. Breonna Taylor would have turned 27 on June 5, 2020 had she not been wrongfully murdered by the police. Her death forces me to never forget that I don’t have to do wrong to end up dead in this country.
The recent protests and civil unrest has been a rude awakening for white people about the ongoing struggles of nonwhite people. It has forced you to openly acknowledge that struggle in this office. It has also empowered me to no longer bite my tongue. As the only Black employee in this office, I had to silently deal with being uncomfortable on a regular basis. Now it’s your turn.
Working in the Planning Division is NOT all sunshine and rainbows despite what this office, as a collective, wishes to perpetuate. It was not easy being the only Black employee in this office and I want you to know that. It was not because of outward displays of aggression or discrimination. It was the silent killers. It was being questioned about why I wanted to work for the National Park Service because I don’t camp/climb/hike, etc. It was sitting in on discussions that heavily scrutinized the integrity of cultural resources in poor Black communities knowing that same scrutiny has not been applied to resources with questionable integrity that NPS already owns. It was being dismissed on a project that was supposed to be about lifting up the voices of the underserved and unheard. It was the complacency in how the work we do continues to perpetuate implicit biases. You pushed me off of the 250th project, and, ultimately, you pushed me out of this office.
As a young black woman, my experiences in this world have been fundamentally different than that of my white co-workers, and that directly informs my perspective and the questions I have when I participate in a planning process. Don’t continue to diminish that perspective. That perspective brings with it a never-ending commitment to making the world better for BIPOC communities. My experiences in this office and your recent remarks about your commitment to change cannot be reconciled.
No more lip service.
“Our employees are clear: From this point forward, the NPS needs to do its work differently, both internally and externally...employees recognize that this is an opportunity to springboard into our second century striving to be a fully inclusive agency.”
Don’t for a second believe that the JEDI learning journey will absolve you. Demonstrate this office’s commitment to diversity, equity and inclusion by finally embracing the diversity of thought already within the office and actively showing how you are genuinely incorporating feedback. There are staff in your ranks who are ready to take a critical look at the work you do and recommend changes. You have the power to empower them.
Don’t hold the entire office back because of your shortcomings. Let go of your pride, have some humility and put your money and power where your mouth is. This social movement isn’t political. It’s about finally committing to this diverse, equitable and inclusive agency we have been promised for decades.
This is a service to yourselves as well as your clients. Foster a work environment where it’s not scandalous to express ideas or concerns related to diversity, equity and inclusion. Start up a dialogue about what you all produce as an office and what implications that may have for the future diversity, relevancy and inclusivity of the NPS. Anything shared will be a step forward.
Bureaucracy, deadlines, budgets, seniority — Those should have never been nor will ever be an acceptable excuse. Do not preach what you do not practice. Do not hide behind your politeness and platitudes. Don’t silence those who speak out against exclusionary practices.
The world needs change and park planning needs to change with it. Every white employee in this office has had the privilege of benefitting from the existing systems and now it is time to make available those same benefits to those who have not had the opportunities you all were afforded. Don’t make your yearlong learning journey a year of inaction. That would completely waste the momentum of this movement.
This office will never truly be part of progress until it is able to take a critical look at itself and fix what is broken. This letter, using my experience with the 250th Commemoration Strategic Plan, only begins to illuminate what is broken. Hear my message and openly hold yourself accountable to the people you serve. Hold yourself accountable to real change. Because I, through this letter, and the BIPOC community, through this movement, will hold you accountable as well.
Respectfully,
Shanasia
A Planner Committed to Progress
1 From the Office Relevancy, Diversity & Inclusion SharePoint site: “Employee-led groups with members who are drawn together by a common interest and work towards advancing relevancy, diversity and inclusion to meet the NPS Mission. ERGs benefit employees by increasing connectivity and retention and benefit the organization by expanding recruitment efforts, building more inclusive work environments and strengthening NPS relevance to the public.” In case you weren’t aware, I am a member of the Employee Empowerment Collective, the ERG that addresses the unique needs of African American personnel and visitors.
2 This quote, and all others opening a new section in this letter, are from the NPS internal document, “The Employee Voice of the 250th,” 2019.
3 Justice, Equity, Diversity and Inclusion