Having suffered intermittently since childhood from racism, I hate diversity questionnaires like poison. If a “diversity questionnaire” lands on my desk, it goes straight in the bin. Providing to officialdom deeply personal information on gender, sexual orientation, religion, race/ethnicity — I’m not doing that. It’s my business. I was nearly barred entry to Laos because I refused to fill in one. It’s a matter of profound principle for me.
The Solicitors Regulation Authority has now made these invasive forms a mandatory requirement, with all law firms forced to report their staff’s diversity statistics every two years. This is now due. I have told my staff that we recognise that some people don’t want to provide this kind of information to a public body, and that they are at liberty either to fill out or to ignore the forms if they wish — I certainly won’t be filling in mine.
Generally you’d think, as a society, we’re past the business of categorising people by their ethnicity. We have a Prime Minister of Indian descent, a Mayor of London of Pakistani descent, a recent Chancellor of the Exchequer of Ghanaian descent. The electorate want competence. Similarly, employers want to make money, and they hire, and pay to keep, the people who can deliver.
I am not ‘other’. I will never put myself in the ‘other’ box. The reality is now pretty much everyone is ‘other’
The Labour Party has said it is determined to tackle the ethnic pay gap by making reporting mandatory if they win the next election. This will involve employers gathering data and reporting on the ethnicity of their workforce.
Such intrusive enquiry into our ethnic status has been increasing. The number of questionnaires we all now have to fill in about our ethnic backgrounds grows every year. I detect the conscience-salving do-gooding of people who categorise by colour and are OK about asking whether someone is “white” or not.
They’re always much the same. They ask you to choose from a short list of supposedly ethnic categories which are in fact largely crudely colour-based. Generally with “white” at the top. If you don’t fit any of them, you can tick “mixed” or “other”. You have to decide what you are. You have to report it.
I am not “other”. I do not agree to be “other”. I will never put myself in an “other” box. But the reality is that in our world now, pretty much everyone is “other”.
In any event, the data collected is skewed and meaningless, because it’s mainly people who feel completely comfortable in declaring their ethnic background that fill in the forms. Only those who have never experienced racism really feel good about ticking these boxes.
I have been criticised for my opposition to them by several “white” box-ticking young ladies from privileged backgrounds who feel it’s all for our own good, as it were. It’s the most patronising form of control ever.
And who’s to say, anyway, that “diversity” comes from having different ethnicities? I have more in common with many of my friends and colleagues from utterly different backgrounds than I do with some who might be lumped into the same box as me by ethnicity. Take people as they are, for what they contribute, what they feel, what they can do. Stop drawing lines. Bring us together.
And until then, when those diversity forms drop through the office letterbox, my personal advice is gather them up — and make a bonfire.
