When the holiday party invitation hit my inbox, I expected the usual quick skim before clicking “yes.” Instead, I paused. The event was at a famous steakhouse—prime cuts, not exactly vegan-friendly. I hesitated, not because I didn’t want to celebrate, but because I knew how “everyone’s invited” often quietly translates to “some of you will manage.”
I decided to ask directly. A short, professional message to my manager: would there be plant-based options? The reply came almost instantly: “Just get a salad.”
Simple words. Heavy message. Not hostile, just dismissive—a signal that my needs were an inconvenience. I reread it, hoping I’d overreacted. I hadn’t.
For days, I weighed my options. Attend anyway? Tell myself it was “just one night”? The more I thought about it, the more I realized showing up would mean accepting a subtle sidelining. I declined. No drama. No explanation. Just a quiet boundary.
The party came and went. I thought that would be the end of it. But a week later, an HR email landed in my inbox. Not the usual policy memo. This one outlined inclusive event guidelines: dietary accommodations, accessibility considerations, respectful communication. Managers were reminded that fostering belonging wasn’t optional—it was leadership.
No names were mentioned. No direct reference to the party. But the timing? Clear. What could have been invisible became a catalyst for a broader conversation about inclusion.
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