There is poignancy to stereotype threat: It’s felt most by those in the stereotyped group who are most identified with achieving in the area where the stereotype applies, and who are trying to do challenging or frustrating things in that area. It affects most the vanguard of the group— as in Mirna wanting to succeed as an ultrarunner; as in women trying to break glass ceilings in finance; as in highly invested African American law students taking challenging state bar exams; as in white American males trying to succeed in elite basketball. That’s when, in the heat of frustration, the stereotype’s dark message— “everybody knows that, because of who you are, you probably can't do well at this, and that you probably don’t belong”— becomes personally relevant. That’s when it can cause enough churn to interfere with performance.

Information. Social capital. Timely intervention and support. A structure outlining clear expectations. These reduce the ambiguity that can become toxic by expanding churn into mistrust and alienation. They foster success for everyone. But they especially help those under stereotype-driven suspicion of not belonging. They reduce performance gaps between these and many other groups. They foster a successful form of diversity, even when they don’t directly address diversity at all. For example, in the years since the GSU student success programs reached maturity, GSU has reliably produced more African American graduates than any other college or university in the nation.

There is, of course, another pedagogical mindset in graduate education: Give students the freedom to find what they care about, a true passion that will sustain them as their careers unfold. In this mindset, it’s reasonable to rid programs of as much structure as possible to allow students’ own talents, ingenuity, and interests to guide their development. This approach has produced generations of distinguished scientists and scholars. But it may not work as well for a diverse student body. The ambiguities it allows into the training experience may impose a special burden on students whose identities put their belongingness under suspicion. The open-ended freedom assumed to foster development could leave them in near-constant churn.

It’s important to stress that the UC Berkley College of Chemistry, like GSU, used multiple practices to reduce ambiguity and give support in the setting. Multiple red buttons. Any one practice alone might not be enough. Take procedural justice— the degree to which a community adheres to nondiscriminatory, transparent practices in matter of hiring, promotion, and adjudicating disputes.

This book argues instead for a “wise” model of inclusion, as practiced at GSU and Berkley Chemistry: meeting the students or inductees where they are, with trust in their potential to develop and with a focus on giving them the red buttons— the information, know-how, resources, timely coaching, social capital, and so on— and showing them the way forward, all of which will enable them to stay in the setting and cope well. These things lower ambiguity and churn— as illustrated in Pat Neal’s effect on me, and in the effects of GSU and Berkley Chemistry’s institution-level strategies.

Supporting. After welcoming comes support: giving people the know-how to manage the challenges and the opportunities inherent in a setting and, as much as possible, related challenges in their lives. This is important. It helps put to rest the nagging question that spurs churn, the question about whether your identity will disadvantage you. It doesn’t rule out the possibility. But it diminishes its likelihood. It changes the feel of even larger organizations. I point again to the examples of Georgia State and UC Berkley Chemistry.