Do you ever do something you think is brave and then second guess if it was brave enough? That just happened to me.

I was asked to join a panel discussion on LinkedIn about leadership in challenging times. I was honored. I’ve worked hard to establish a position in the world as “thought leader” and I have done battle with my own imposter syndrome to own my voice and my story. I was enough, and invitations like this one felt humbling and valuable. Others want me to contribute, and I can.

We had a few prep calls, and then I noticed that the panel was 3 white women. Hmmmm. I am committed to uplifting women of color and other outsiders on stages I am lucky to share, and this concerned me. I did a bit of research and noticed the last panel was also 3 white women.

Time to walk my talk. I emailed the organizer and mentioned my concern. I offered to give my seat to a women of color colleague and I offered two names of people I though would rock it! Timing was tight and the organizer responded. They cared, had noticed, and were committed to doing better next time. They wanted me to proceed with the session in 2 days time.

I did.

It was a powerful and lively discussion. I appreciated the co-panelists and I felt the 75 people on-line with us received value and inspiration.

But that night, it still bugged me. Had I been brave enough? What would it look like if I said no to the invite and asked the organizer to invite another voice to the table. Was I brave enough to actually decline?

Clearly not, in this case. I didn’t want to leave them on the lurch and I was eager to leverage the opportunity to share my voice. I have worked my ass off to even get invited to the table. I have compassion for me for this decision.

And, I am unsettled by it.

This unsettled feeling motivated me to send intros to the organizer to some people of color, non-hetero , and differently abled panelists I recommend for next time.

In addition, I have a plan for the next time. I can proactively invite diverse voices to the table as soon as the dialogue starts. I can and will use my privilege with grace. I can make room, even it it means stepping back. It is true that I have worked hard to earn my reputation and my presence in the circles I navigate. And it is also true that I am obligated by my values to make room, to share the seats, and to lift up other voices that have less privilege than me.

As an ally, I sometimes do it imperfectly. And I know I am trying. It is not easy, but it matters.

How are you striving to use your privilege with grace?