Due to my involvement with the SQL/data community, I was recently asked by my work to look into creating more of a community within said the company. It got me thinking about my journey with communities, what they mean to me and what they’re about. In short, they mean everything to me. Literally everything. I’ve blogged in the past about my early professional life, but let me do a quick recap to set the stage of what I will cover in this post.
I started working with Oracle back in 1997. Oracle is a fantastic engine - in many ways superior to SQL Server, but that’s irrelevant for this discussion. I enjoyed going to Oracle OpenWorld in San Francisco, and I loved reading forum posts by the heavy hitters in the community. I also learned the hard way not to stick my head up too high, and be very careful with asking for scripts or code of any kind. It wasn’t really done. There were a few pioneers that gave their work away freely, but they were (and are) few and far between.
I widened my scope of practice to encompass SQL Server a few years later. Coming from Oracle to SQL Server meant that a lot was the same, but so much was not - Google (or AltaVista, Magellan or Yahoo, the mainstays of that time) was my friend. I couldn’t but note that there was a lot more things available, and the “feel” of the SQL Server community was way more welcoming. I kept working through projects, becoming quite proficient, but still - I was entirely on my own.
Fast forward a few years, and I found myself at the PASS Summit in Seattle. I was doing my best wallflower impression, gawking at the mythical MVPs and Microsoft Certified Masters. Here were EVERYONE I’ve read about, seen or heard of - all the heavy hitters in the entire community. And they were approachable. In fact, they were more tha approachable - they were downright friendly. Who would have known that the Scary DBA isn’t very scary, but is in fact exceedingly kind, nice and helpful? Through one of my dearest friends I was introduced to people I viewed as royalty, and I realized that they were just like me. That opened my eyes to the whole concept of community, and since then, everything I am, everything I have, I owe entirely to the community.
There is a saying that “the rising tide lifts all boat”, and that’s the data community in a nutshell. Nobody is hoarding knowledge, quite the opposite. If you’re stuck, tweet with the hashtag “SQLHelp” and you’ll bound to get an answer within minutes. A GOOD answer. An answer from someone with years, and years of experience. I decided that I wanted to do anything I could to give back to the community that had given me so much. I had left my shell where I had spent such a long time and finally found a place where I could not only learn, but also help. I started looking at speaking at conferences, and while it was exceedingly difficult to get going, I slowly started to get accepted to more and more events.
As with any group of people, the vast majority are absolutely fantastic. People that will drop anything to help a fellow community member out, that you can call on, ask advice from, bounde ideas off of. But there are always bad apples. One such bad apple was a man I came into contact with when I started speaking. I felt something was off rather early, and I couldn’t but note the fact that several people seemed uncomfortable around him when he made loud, inappropriate jokes - often sexist to boot. I decided early that I didn’t want anything to do with him and ignored him, thinking that my work was done, the problem had gone away. When I heard he had been booted out of the MVP program for his bad behavior, I felt that finally something good had happened, what goes around comes around, sort of. Then came the day I found myself on the same schedule as him at an event in Europe.
I was a very new speaker, only having been accepted for a few events. I was a complete unknown at the time, and I was extremely careful with how I was seen. I realized that the organizers might not have the same picture of this man as I had, so I reached out with a carefully worded question and a reference to his dismissal from the MVP program. I was told that “this was not a concern as he had not broken any laws in that country”, and that he was welcome to speak at their event. I decided then and there to step away from that event, explaining to the organizers that I wanted nothing to do with an event that clearly didn’t care about something as fundamental as sexism and bad behavior.
But I didn’t say anything in public.
Why? Simple. I was afraid. I was afraid what the fallout of such an act would be - I was a nobody, he was (and still is, for all practical purposes) an established speaker and a big name in the industry. So I did what I had to do - I stepped away, but I couldn’t make myself speak out.
Coming back to the community thing at work, I realized that the bedrock for a good, inclusive community is safety. Only in an environment where we feel safe can we blossom and grow. It’s just like at work: if we don’t feel safe and allowed to make mistakes in order to grow, there will be stagnation.
Safety and inclusion are the results of people’s actions - no bold statements or fancy technical doodads can create a safe environment on their own. But the primary tool for stating what should be the obvious is the code of conduct. The event code of conduct exists for one reason and one reason only - to protect members at an event. That is the overarching point. I’ve seen codes of conduct five pages long. I’ve seen codes of conduct a sentence long. They amount to the same thing: don’t be an ass, and if you decide to be one, you’re not welcome at this event. Period, full stop. That’s all there is to it.
But in its simplicity hides the fact that when, as an organizer, you are informed of concerns about one of your speakers, you have a HUGE responsibility to act. Without trust in the organizers that the code of conduct will be upheld come hell or high water, the value of the code of conduct goes to zero, and the entire idea of the community comes crashing down. Trust is a close friend of safety. You can’t have one without the other.
In this concept of trust lurks another, darker aspect of the point of the code of conduct. If the point is to protect victims and would-be victims, then we have to take them at their word. If concerns are raised, then you immediately act to protect the person that raises the concerns. If this means that you pull a speaker from the schedule until whatever allegations can be looked in to, so be it. If it turns out to be a false alarm (which I’d argue is EXCEEDINGLY rare), then put the speaker back and issue a public apology. Nobody would object to this action that clearly was aimed at providing a safe place for everyone.
However - prodding and digging, trying to find out details and names in situations the organizers clearly need not know is anything BUT safe. There is a difference between putting out feelers to the tune of “we’ve heard that X has behaved badly in the past, can you confirm?” and “we need to know who this person that X has alledgedly done anything to, and we need to know when and what - in detail, oh, and can you ask them to contact us so we can get proof”.
No, you do not. Not ever. That’s not an organizer’s business. Trust goes both ways - the community need to be able to trust the organizers and the code of conduct, and the organizers need to trust members of the community that raise concerns.
I’ll tell you an extraordinary story I read on Twitter a few weeks back.
A woman approached the bartender and told him that she had seen a guy put something in another woman’s drink. The bartender nodded, turned to someone behind him and spoke a sentence. This other guy immediately quieted the band, turned on all the lights in the entire room and stepped up on a barstool. In a loud voice, he said: “We have indications that someone has put something in someone’s cocktail. Everyone, toss your drinks - we will replace them for free. The person that was the target of this completely unacceptable act will be informed when they approach the bar.”
Just like that. THAT is safety. THAT is exactly what an enforced code of conduct brings to the table. No discussion, no looking for “proof”, no questioning, no nothing - just immediate, swift action.
This is why I have today decided to step away from speaking at Data Weekender. The four remaining organizers have decided, despite grave concerns raised by myself and verified by others, to keep a speaker on that has a history of several years of extremely bad, criminal behavior towards a member of the community. I can also note that there were six organizers when I raised the concerns about this speaker. There are now four organizers left.
A few years ago I was too afraid to speak out publicly.
I am not afraid anymore.
Photo by Matheus Bertelli: https://www.pexels.com/photo/group-of-multiethnic-people-gathering-around-female-speaker-in-studio-3856027/