Safe Space? There’s No Such Place.

What even is a safe space? Is your idea of one the same as mine? Can someone else create that for you?

I came across this definition by Elise Ahenkorah (she/her), and it stuck with me:

“A safe place is a place or environment in which a person or group of people can feel confident that they will not be exposed to discrimination, criticism, harassment, or any other emotional or physical harm.”
(Source: “Safe and Brave Spaces Don’t Work (and What You Can Do Instead)”, Medium)

The term safe space received a lot of attention in 2020. There was a wave of public commitments to inclusion, belonging, and diversity. DEI strategies were announced. Training budgets were approved. Statements were made.

Now it’s 2025. And many of those same organizations have quietly stepped back. What once felt urgent is now optional again. For those of us outside the dominant culture - and I’m intentionally not using terms like “minority” or “equity-deserving” - this isn’t new. The promises were never ours to begin with.

So let’s go back to this idea of a safe space.

If you’re visibly a member of a non-dominant group, you already know: safety has never been guaranteed. Microaggressions, harmful language, erasure - they happen every day. Not because people are always malicious, but because “safe” means different things to different people.

The return-to-office push is making this even more urgent. In a 2023 Canadian Centre for Diversity and Inclusion survey, 72% of racialized employees returning to in-person work said they expect to encounter more microaggressions and bias compared to remote work. In the UK, a 2022 Race at Work survey found 41% of employees of colour felt less comfortable speaking up in physical workplaces than they did online, compared to just 25% of white employees. These statistics underline what many already know: physical proximity can increase exposure to harmful behaviours when cultures of respect and accountability aren’t in place.

Here’s what I believe:

Every person deserves respect. Especially in the workplace. But that doesn’t come from buzzwords or well-meaning posters in the lunchroom. It comes from accountability.

Accountable spaces - that’s what we should be aiming for.

Spaces where people take responsibility for their words and actions. Where harm is acknowledged, not debated. Where the impact matters more than the intent.

That means doing the work. Checking our assumptions. Asking questions. And being open to hearing that we got it wrong. It also means holding each other - especially those with power - accountable.

And for those who deserve accountable and respectful spaces, let’s also extend grace. When someone uses the wrong pronoun, it may not be a malicious act but a sign they need time to learn and adjust. However, if the incorrect pronoun use becomes persistent, followed by a chuckle, laugh, or joke, that is not respectful - and it should be addressed.

Still unsure if what you’re about to say might land the wrong way? Try this: ask yourself if you’d say it to your mother. Your brother. Your child. Your best friend. When we shift from “them” to “us,” the words often change. So does the tone. So does the outcome.

Let’s stop pretending safety is a shared experience. It’s not.

But respect? Accountability? Those we can build together.

And that’s the kind of space where people don’t just survive - they thrive.