Embodying Cultural Humility

These days, it seems like a simple question that invites us to embrace cultural humility.

Are you for diversity, equity, and inclusion?

For many, the expectation is a clear and immediate “yes”—often accompanied by specific language, positions, or actions that signal alignment. But in practice, the question is more layered than it first appears.

Over the years, I’ve found myself reflecting less on how I answer that question, and more on how I live it.

A Personal Starting Point

My perspective on cultural humility comes from living at the intersection of multiple identities—Southern and Greek cultural roots, bisexual identity, and invisible disability. I understand firsthand how identity is layered, contextual, and often not immediately visible.

I grew up between worlds.

One grandmother sang Baptist hymns and made cornbread and pot liquor. Another spoke “Greeklish,” and I spent time in Greek Orthodox traditions, celebrating two Easters most years, immersed in food, language, and ritual that carried a different kind of history and meaning.

There wasn’t one cultural lens. There were many.

And I learned early that people don’t fit neatly into categories—and neither does culture itself.

Moving Beyond Labels

In professional spaces, conversations about diversity often focus on knowledge—what we know about different groups, identities, or experiences.

But cultural humility asks something different of us.

It’s not about mastering information. It’s about recognizing the limits of our own perspective and remaining open, curious, and willing to learn.

It’s a lifelong process of self-reflection and self-critique, grounded in the understanding that no single lens fully captures the human experience.

That distinction matters.

Because people are not checklists.

How This Shows Up in My Work

My contributions to diversity, equity, and inclusion have taken shape through the spaces I know best—teaching, writing, and clinical practice.

I have trained thousands of counselors and coaches, integrating cultural humility and spiritual literacy into those learning environments.
I have long advocated for access to care, including online therapy and coaching as early accommodations for individuals who might not otherwise receive services.
I have contributed to conversations on social justice, identity, and inclusion through publications, courses, and professional dialogue.
I continue to explore these topics through podcast conversations, supervision, and ongoing learning.

This is the work I am called to do.

Not as a static position, but as an evolving practice.

Cultural Humility as Practice, Not Performance

Cultural humility reminds us that identity is complex—and that even when we think we understand, there is always more to learn.

It invites us to:

remain aware of our own lens and its limitations
approach others with curiosity rather than assumption
recognize both visible and invisible aspects of identity
stay open to perspectives that may differ from our own

It also asks us to consider context—because identity is not fixed. It shifts across environments, relationships, and moments in time.

In that sense, cultural humility is not something we achieve.

It’s something we practice.

A Wider Lens

In today’s landscape, conversations about inclusion are often intertwined with broader social, political, and systemic concerns. These are important and necessary dialogues.

At the same time, there are many ways to contribute.

For some, that contribution is activism.

For others, it is education, clinical work, mentorship, or creating spaces where people feel seen and understood.

For me, it has been about working at the level of meaning—helping practitioners deepen their awareness of identity, culture, and the unseen layers that shape human experience.