Bias and prejudice are attitudes to be kept in hand, not attitudes to be avoided.

I’ll be honest: like most people, I have biases. Growing up in a predominantly white, Catholic community, surrounded by people who looked and thought like me, shaped my early views. In that environment, certain jokes, stereotypes, and offhand remarks felt harmless, even though they wouldn’t be seen that way today. Locker room humor, off-color jokes—I’ve made them, and this isn’t something I’m proud of. They’re part of the biases I inherited, biases I’ve had to recognize and confront over the years. This isn’t an excuse; it’s an acknowledgment of the reality I grew up in and the ongoing process of self-reflection I’m committed to.

One example I remember clearly: in grade school, after the Rodney King incident, my classmates and I joked about his plea, “Can’t we all just get along?” We didn’t mean it as a slight against King, nor were we fully aware of the weight of what happened to him. But looking back, I realize we made light of a man who had just endured a horrific beating. His words—intended as a plea for unity—became the punchline of a joke, simply because we were too young to understand the impact. But that ignorance didn’t make it right, and recognizing that ignorance is part of my reflection.

Another example sticks with me: the language around rap culture when I was growing up. As white kids wearing baggy pants and listening to rap music, we were often called “Wiggers.” It was a term casually thrown around, not just by peers but by adults, teachers, even clergy members. People accepted it as shorthand for white kids who embraced elements of Black culture. Looking back, I realize that term was just one letter removed from a deeply offensive racial slur—and that’s not a coincidence. It’s a reflection of biases that were ingrained in us, passed along without much question.

Then there’s the infamous stereotype-laden jokes about certain foods tied to racial identity—fried chicken, watermelon, you name it. When Tiger Woods won The Masters, I remember Lee Trevino making a quip about what kind of food would be served at Augusta. It was ignorant and clearly fueled by racial stereotypes, but it was met with laughter, not backlash. These casual comments shaped a generation to accept certain biases without ever questioning their root or their harm. And while it’s easy to brush these off as “jokes,” I’ve come to see that accepting them without question only perpetuates divisions.

There’s also my experience with leadership and accountability. I can’t deny that I sometimes fell into the trap of stereotyping when I watched the news or encountered certain situations. I remember watching crime reports and thinking, “Typical,” when the suspect was Black. Comments like, “Not surprised, he doesn’t know his father,” crossed my mind more than once, fueled by stereotypes and media narratives that linked race with family instability and crime. I’m not proud of these thoughts, and I acknowledge that they reflect deeply ingrained biases. But my aim here isn’t to justify them; it’s to bring them to light. They’re part of my history, and I’m here to be honest about that.

Some of my biases, however, have evolved from my own real-life experiences. One that stands out is the situation with Randy Marino, a club member whose actions exemplified the kind of casual, yet damaging, racism that people often brush off. One night, after too many drinks, Marino launched into a racist rant against my French-American Food & Beverage Director. When I later sat down with him to address the incident, Marino doubled down, referring to my bartender as a “Yenta Faggot.” His assumption was clear: he thought I shared his biases, that I’d brush off his language as “just words.”

But I didn’t, and I don’t. As a leader, I had a responsibility to protect my team and create a respectful work environment. Marino’s behavior was unacceptable, so I made the decision to expel him from the club. I wanted to send a message that “Hate has no place here.” Yet, the company later allowed him back, accusing me of “blackmailing” him—a false claim that felt like a slap in the face. This experience highlighted for me that while I may have personal biases, I believe in standing up for what’s right and refusing to tolerate overt discrimination in the workplace.

Another formative experience was my encounter with affirmative action and DEI policies. For most of my career, I brushed off conversations around diversity hires. Phrases like, “Oh, he’s an Affirmative Action hire,” were common in workplace discussions, yet I accepted them without question. We all did. It was unspoken that certain hires happened to meet a diversity quota. People just accepted it. But then, when I was passed over and ultimately targeted, I saw the impact firsthand, not only on my career but on workplace dynamics. I was raised to believe that hard work was the path to success, that skill and dedication would get me where I wanted to go. But when I was replaced by someone less qualified—solely, it seemed, to meet a diversity goal—it forced me to confront the downsides of these policies as they are sometimes applied. This isn’t to deny the importance of diversity, but I now see how certain implementations of DEI can have unintended consequences that affect not only individuals but entire corporate cultures.

This isn’t an apology tour, nor am I here to absolve myself. I’ve come to see that biases—whether conscious or unconscious—shape our interactions in ways we might not realize until it’s too late. My goal is to lay these biases bare and acknowledge how they’ve shaped my perspectives. I’m telling this story openly because I believe that acknowledging bias is essential, especially in leadership. My aim is to foster conversations that look critically at DEI, not as a way to shut people out but as a way to open the door to real, impactful change.

And so, as I stand here ready to tell my story, I do so with full transparency. I have biases, and I’m working on them. But I also know that I’ve done my best to treat people with respect and integrity, even when faced with situations that challenged those values. This is part of my journey, and I hope that by sharing it, others will feel encouraged to confront their own biases and learn from them.