Changes in the workplace spurred by the COVID-19 pandemic have given many of us more flexibility in our place of work. Lockdowns and social distancing often meant holding work meetings from whatever remote corners of our homes—nooks in the closet, the kitchen counter, the bathtub—could afford us some sense of privacy. Last year, I even held a video meeting with someone calling from one of the most unlikely places: a treehouse.

As a former community organizer and the founder of consulting firm Decolonize Design, I have had the unique opportunity to meet people where they are for more than a decade. As an organization, we partner with individuals and institutions that are working to transcend the status quo and white professionalism standards in their formal and informal rituals, routines, and policies. This work connected us to Zuri, a dynamic woman who recently transitioned into a growth strategy role with one of our clients, who joined our call from her treehouse in Northern California.

The treehouse was more tree than house, as its architecture was essentially a platform nestled between the lush branches. Zuri told me that she previously was a forager and tended a farm. It was on that farm where she had an accident that left her disabled, just months before COVID-19 shelter-in-place mandates. During the subsequent time of healing and solitude, she explored what kind of spaces kept her connected to her purpose. With great precision and clarity, she explained to me that she is at her best when she is high above the ground but still rooted. In the treehouse she was free, connected to what makes her feel alive. For me, it was also a subtle reminder of resistance to the traditional workplace and refusal of the status quo. In the African context, the tree represents a hope for new life. Trees hold special spiritual significance for Indigenous people worldwide for its ability to exist through generations and offer connection to the ancestors. Trees also support dwellings and refuge for birds and many other mammals so that they can continue their journey wherever it might take them. As a symbol, spiritual practice, and place—trees are more than just fixtures in our natural environment, they offer us a way to connect more deeply with our work and world.

During our call, Zuri gave me a quick tour of her space. There were some pillows and extra lighting, but notably, there was no furniture, not even a table to work at. As a disabled person, “standard” tables would not fit the space or the height she needed. Yet, what became evident was that not only did she not want a table—it served no purpose for her.

Tables can take up a lot of space. They typically are designed for working, eating, or holding discussion. But they don’t meet the needs of all people, all the time. Dining tables, for instance, can be beautifully designed but may not have drawers and functional compartments. Desks may have utility but may not facilitate a meal for a dozen people. More importantly, tables are not the only place to eat or work and certainly are not always the best places to engage in those activities. The very need of a table must be questioned.

In discussions of diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI), the table is frequently used as a symbol of inclusion. Corporations and the media around the world talk about extending the table, adding more seats to the table, or making space at the table. Whether by design or default, the table is accepted as the primary place to ameliorate issues of marginalization, exclusion, neglect, discrimination, and other harms. The assumption driving this ubiquitous use of the table is that its seating arrangements are neutral and therefore equally accessible.

But visibility and representation at the table does not necessarily translate to power or influence. For too long, oppressed peoples have asked, demanded, and even pleaded for a seat at the table. The reality, however, is the table was designed by a select few, for a select few. In order for the table to function it requires that the oppressed peoples assimilate, concede some of their humanity, and suffer ongoing indignities.

Read the full article about the problem with tables by Aida Mariam Davis at Stanford Social Innovation Review.