I’ve often heard it said that numbers tell the whole story. They reveal trends, point out anomalies, and make clear what might otherwise seem subjective. But sitting in a room of over 100 attendees at a recent "Carbon Women" event, it struck me that numbers can also hide stories. They can mask complexity, normalize exclusion, and make the uncomfortable feel reasonable.
My boyfriend often asks, “Why does it matter?” when I bring up the stark absence of Black and brown faces in spaces like these. From a purely statistical perspective, he argues, it makes sense—Switzerland is predominantly white; women of color are, by definition, a minority. Why expect the room to be any different? And yet, I felt it in my bones: the unmistakable awareness of being one of only three brown women in a room discussing the future of sustainability and carbon markets, and the only Black person present.
Why It Matters to Stand Out (Even When No One Notices)
For many, being the “only” is exhausting, not just because it draws attention but because of the silent burden it places on your shoulders. When I raise my hand to speak, I’m acutely aware that my words may not just represent my thoughts but be taken as representative of a broader community. My experiences and insights are filtered through a lens of expectation, sometimes skepticism, and almost always tinged with the question, “Why are you here?”
Statistically, my presence in that room could be written off as an outlier. But data alone cannot capture the palpable sense of isolation that comes from looking around and seeing no reflections of yourself. This matters because decisions made in rooms like these shape the policies, standards, and market dynamics that will determine the future of our planet. When those decisions exclude the perspectives of marginalized groups, they perpetuate inequities—often without anyone noticing.
The Hidden Problem with “Normal” Statistics
There is comfort in normalcy. Numbers can be used to justify inaction, to rationalize the status quo, and to gloss over systemic gaps in representation. “Of course, you’re one of the only ones,” some might say, “It’s a reflection of the demographic reality.” But is it? Or is it a reflection of the entrenched power dynamics that determine who is invited, who feels welcome, and who has access?
The carbon removal market is a burgeoning field. It holds the promise of mitigating climate change and addressing residual emissions that can’t be eliminated. But the market is also deeply exclusionary, dominated by voices from the Global North and largely shaped by corporate interests. This imbalance is not an accident—it is a direct consequence of who is in the room and who is not.
Representation Beyond Optics: Why the “Only” Voices Matter
Representation isn’t just about filling quotas; it’s about shifting perspectives, challenging norms, and reshaping conversations. When women of color—especially Black women—are in the room, they bring lived experiences and perspectives that can enrich discussions around ESG, CSU, CDR, and voluntary markets. Our presence forces others to confront the uncomfortable truth that sustainability cannot be truly achieved without equity.
Here’s what I know: The absence of representation leads to blind spots. ESG standards that fail to consider social equity become hollow promises. Carbon credits tied to projects in the Global South can become little more than exploitative tools unless they are developed with genuine community engagement and oversight. Voluntary markets risk becoming playgrounds for greenwashing unless they are built on trust, transparency, and accountability.
Statistical “Normalcy” and the Limits of Comfort
My boyfriend’s question keeps lingering in my mind: “Why does it matter?” From a numbers perspective, perhaps it shouldn’t. But from a human perspective, it absolutely does. It matters when policies are made by people who have never lived in communities disproportionately impacted by climate change. It matters when solutions are developed by those who don’t understand the historical legacies of resource exploitation in the Global South. It matters when the voices of marginalized people are relegated to the margins of decision-making tables.
Statistically, exclusion may be “normal.” But that does not mean it is acceptable.
Marketing the Future: Whose Stories Are We Telling?
In the realm of sustainability, marketing often focuses on glossy narratives of progress and innovation. We celebrate technological breakthroughs in CDR, new carbon standards, and corporate commitments to net zero. But rarely do we see the stories of frontline communities fighting for survival or grassroots activists demanding climate justice. The Global South, despite being disproportionately impacted, is often rendered invisible in these discussions.
When I raise my hand in a room full of predominantly white faces, I am not just speaking for myself. I am pushing back against a narrative that normalizes exclusion and dismisses the need for true equity in our collective fight against climate change. I am reminding the room—and myself—that sustainability cannot be reduced to numbers alone.
A Call for Transformative Change
So, what do we do with this knowledge? How do we move beyond statistical normalization to create spaces that are truly inclusive, equitable, and reflective of the world we live in? Here are a few thoughts:
Challenge the “Normal”: Representation is not a statistical anomaly; it is a requirement for meaningful change. We must demand more inclusive spaces, diverse leadership, and equitable decision-making structures.
Center Marginalized Voices: When developing ESG frameworks, setting carbon standards, or creating voluntary markets, we must prioritize the voices of those most impacted by climate change.
Reimagine the Narrative: The story of sustainability must be rewritten to include everyone—not just those who have historically held power. Marketing campaigns must reflect the true diversity of experiences and solutions.
Measure Beyond Numbers: Statistics tell part of the story, but they must be accompanied by qualitative measures of impact, equity, and justice.
Final Thoughts: Why It Will Always Matter
Representation matters because people are not numbers. Our experiences, histories, and contributions cannot be captured in a bar graph or a pie chart. So long as rooms like the one at the "Carbon Women" event remain predominantly white, the work is not done. We must continue to push, to challenge, and to insist that every voice is heard and valued. Because the stakes are too high to accept anything less.
To my boyfriend, and to anyone who wonders why it matters: It matters because change doesn’t happen by accident. It happens when those who have been left out are given the power to shape the future. And that is a statistical truth worth fighting for.
Comments