It’s not if you belong, it’s how you belong
You learn the rules by playing
Playgrounds are a rat-race. They are afoot with winners and losers changing status each second. There’s a bully and a few goons. Always a loner. Six different cliques operating around and on top of each other—aware but not bothered. Everyone belongs but no one really asked to.
Recently my five-year-old couldn’t find an “in” with the playground crew. The big kids were in full-flight—running from one end of the playground and back. She asked to join and got no response. She tried to ascertain the rules, but the game was opaque. No one invited her to play.
Walking to my bench in tears, she demanded we go home.
No one wants to play with me!
There was evidence to support her supposition. I saw her ask at least five different kids, “Can I play with you?” in her politest voice. They didn’t say “No” they just kept playing. I also saw other kids join the flock with no issue; they possessed the secret to joining this impregnable play structure squad. None of them seemed to ask permission to play though, they just… played.
By asking “Can I play?” she was asking the wrong question.
A playground is an open system with inputs and variables constantly in flux, but the one constant is that every kid belongs. You could argue that the entire criteria for inclusion is: be a kid and be playing. If you check those boxes, the ground is yours.
By asking if she belonged, my daughter entertained the possibility that she didn't. But every kid belongs in the playground.
Work is like a playground.
Sometimes, you feel like an imposter. You wonder if you belong. You wait for invitations to meetings you ought to be in or ask for permission to join a discussion where you’re a subject matter expert. Sometimes, you politely tap on the shoulder of the big kid and ask, “Can I play?”
But the criteria for belonging at your job is even more simple than the playground: did you get hired for this job?
Yes? Great, then you belong.
One company I worked at actually had security badges emblazoned with “I belong here.” Maybe we should make some more.
When you ask if you belong at work, you allow the possibility that you don’t. That perhaps you do not have a seat at the mythical table.
When you bravely cast off any doubt that you belong, you remove that facade of power from the people who don’t really have power over you anyway. And you get to ask a more interesting question.
How do I belong?
This is one of those questions that can take you from stuck to stoked. Hold on to it.
Knowing how you belong is rich. It gives you powers. It enables you to have deep intentions, to read the room, present your best angle, be principled in your approach, and be in the right place at the right time. Asking how is an active process where you take stock of the work, and of yourself, and how those things come together.
There are many variations to this question, and as many answers. Each time you ask and answer, you quiet that meanie in your mind a bit more.
Here’s an easy one: how will you be accountable to each of your teams? Are you a core member or a stake holder? Do you know… because knowing that will save you a lot of unnecessary meetings or FOMO.
How do you apply your unique skill set to this workplace?
How do you want to spend your time?
How do you want your team to lean on you?
How do you check your work, and validate with peers?
How do you want to feel at the end of this week?
Collect your HOWs, write them down. Pretty soon you’ll have a hot little handbook on how to be you in someplace new. Wouldn’t it be nice if everyone had this level of clarity around how they exist in their surroundings?
But don’t keep it to yourself, share your HOWs. The sooner you communicate how you belong to your team, the faster you will get slotted into the game. Let people know when they ask who you are. Let them know how to include you. And how you’ll work with them. By skipping the “If”, and sharing the How, your team gets to jump right into What. As in “What the floop are we building here?”
So, instead of looking for an invitation, start with an introduction.
Do This
I’m the content designer writing the guardrails for our AI prompt library. What are we working on next?
Not this
I’m new! Can you please include me?
I sent my five-year-old back out with similar intent. She grabbed the nearest big kid and instead of asking “Can I play?” she asked “What are we playing?” The girl immediately explained the rules, and my daughter transformed into one of them, a player. Another kid unexplainably running back and forth, aligned to a secret mission.
I hope the same thing happens for you at work, and in life.
You already belong.