This year, I have been reflecting (and writing) on the power of words. That’s not just because of the particular scrutiny words may be under in this moment, but because, when words are weaponized, we’re faced with a choice: silence ourselves for fear of reprisal or seek new words with more clarity in their poetry or prose, so we are not just heard but most importantly understood.

This need for clarity feels ever more important on the heels of Juneteenth, the day when the last enslaved African Americans in Texas were informed of their freedom. In many ways, Juneteenth serves as a powerful reminder of resilience, freedom, and the unfinished work of justice. It does more than memorialize a milestone, it compels us to act.

In the last few years, the words “diversity,” “equity,” and “inclusion” have become increasingly ubiquitous. They were not just aspirations of workplace cultures, or investment portfolios, or teams large and small, they also signaled a way forward for greater productivity and creativity over time. Yet in this moment, those aspirations have been besmirched, likely because people have fundamentally different assumptions about what DEI actually means.

So, what does it mean?

I can’t answer for all, but I can answer for me. (And as I try to build my own empathy around how others respond to the words we use, I realize that “meaning making” comes not just from what we know (our cognition), but from what we experience (our own stories and contexts). As a result, words are, in fact, ideas.)

This is what DEI means to me: it’s a desire. It’s an aching of the world as it could be when we’re all in this together.

It’s a place where my unique lens into the world, when paired with another’s unique lens into the world, unlocks a genius — an ingenuity — we didn’t have on our own. It’s a sense of belonging — a feeling that people see me and each other for the unique, sparring, quirky, flawed and learning, imperfect and yet perfectly human people we are. Because when we feel we belong, we lead with the bravest versions of ourselves; and those selves lock arms, constituting an amazing whole that together unlocks solutions that stick for the people we have the honor to serve.

Yup, there it is. I believe that DEI lived out loud is a culture rooted in belonging and ingenuity. That’s what I mean. And this is the language I’ll use over time to help me be not just heard but hopefully understood, as we lean into who (and how) we want to be, today and always.

I hope that by searching for and finding these new words, we take one small step at fulfilling the unfinished work of justice. For everyone.