What being the extreme minority taught me about the invisible work we force on others…

My wife and I decided we needed to be more intentional about our professional network. The whole Jim Rohn thing – you’re the average of the five people you spend the most time with. We’re in Lethbridge, a sleepy city that still acts like a small town. We needed the energy of Calgary, two hours north.

So, when a leadership conference landed in my inbox, I checked out the lineup. Some sessions looked solid. One caught my attention: “Leading Through Life’s Transitions: How biologic changes shape resilience, health and leadership” hosted by the Clinical Department Head of Obstetrics & Gynecology.

Should’ve been a warning sign.

I emailed to ask about the conference. The response was warm and welcoming: “Everyone is included, we love support from everyone – very inclusive.”

Okay. I’m in.

On conference day, I braved sketchy winter roads to arrive for the 8:00 AM registration. The waiting area had a lot of women, but I figured I was just early. Then people filed in. And kept filing in.

Final count: approximately 500 attendees. Ten men total (that I saw).

I was one of ten.

The Translation Tax

Here’s what I didn’t expect after my initial gender-shock: I actually got value from that conference.

One keynote was genuinely interesting. A breakout on “Power, Influence & Persuasion” was fantastic – would’ve been useful in any context. I walked away with real insights.

But wow, I had to work for them.

Every example assumed shared experiences I didn’t have. Every “relatable” moment came with nods and knowing looks I couldn’t return. The content was good, but I spent the entire day translating it through a lens that wasn’t built for me.

Session on work-life balance? Had to mentally swap out examples about childcare guilt for something that applied to my situation.

Discussion about advancing in male-dominated fields? Had to reverse-engineer what that lesson meant for someone who’s never experienced that barrier.

Stories about being overlooked in meetings? Had to imagine what my equivalent version would be.

The material was there. The value was real. But extracting it was exhausting – even when the content was excellent.

And there it was: This is exactly what engineering environments do to people who don’t fit the mold. Not that I suddenly understand what it’s like to be a woman in engineering – I don’t. But I finally get what invisible barriers feel like, even when nobody’s trying to create them.

Technical teams do this constantly without realizing it.

“We value diverse perspectives!”

Then every team bonding moment revolves around technical war stories from projects only long-timers worked on.

“Strong communication skills required!”

But all the examples are about presenting to other engineers who already speak the language.

“Our culture is collaborative!”

Yet the shortcuts, inside jokes, and unwritten rules assume you came up through the traditional engineering path.

The opportunities are real. The value is there. But you’re making people do invisible translation work to access it – and that’s exhausting, even for capable people.

At that conference, I was a middle-aged guy who’s generally comfortable anywhere. And one day of translation work left me drained.

Now imagine that being your entire career.

Stop Making Others Do the Work

The conference organizers didn’t need to change their primary audience. They just needed to be honest about it upfront and do the translation work themselves instead of making me do it.

Same goes for your engineering team.

Here’s how to stop creating that invisible tax:

1. Name your assumptions out loud

When you use an example that assumes shared experience, say so: “If you’ve worked in manufacturing, you know…” vs. assuming everyone has. If they haven’t, give them the 30-second context instead of making them figure it out.

2. Do the translation yourself

Don’t tell war stories and expect everyone to extract the lesson. You explain how it applies: “The principle here is X, whether you’re debugging code or managing stakeholders or…” Make the connection explicit.

3. Create space for different entry points

When onboarding someone new, ask: ‘What surprised you most about how we work compared to what you expected?’ This question is safer than ‘what did you have to translate?’ because it invites observation rather than criticism. Their answer reveals what assumptions your team makes that aren’t universal. Then fix those assumptions for the next person.

The conference would’ve felt inclusive if they’d said: “This is primarily for women in leadership, AND if you’re here to learn, here’s how to think about these concepts in your context.”

Instead, they said “everyone’s welcome” and left me to do all the translation work.

Don’t be that conference.

The Real Cost

You’re not just making people uncomfortable. You’re making them spend cognitive energy on translation instead of contribution.

That brilliant engineer who came from a non-traditional background? They’re spending mental bandwidth figuring out your inside references instead of solving the actual problem.

That team member who didn’t go straight from university to engineering? They’re working to decode your cultural shortcuts instead of bringing their unique perspective.

The content you’re offering is valuable. The opportunities are real.

But if people have to exhaust themselves just to access what you’re giving, you’re losing their best work.

I spent one day doing that translation work, and I was tired.

Your team members are doing it every day.

Stop making them.