From Safe Space to Brave Space in the workplace :
Rethinking Inclusion Conversations

I can’t think of how many inclusion workshops, seminars, and conversations I’ve started with: “This is a Safe space & Brave Space in the workplace for learning.”

The intent was pure. I wanted people to feel at ease, to relax their shoulders, to open up. But in retrospect, here’s the truth: I can’t guarantee anyone’s safety. And no one can guarantee mine.

Anyone who has watched Liam Neeson’s Taken series (yes, I’ve admittedly seen them all — I love you, Liam) knows that even a parent can’t guarantee their loved one’s safety. Okay, I digress! But the point is: in a workplace workshop or tough inclusion dialogue, promising “safety” is unrealistic.

What we can strive for is something more authentic, more actionable: a brave space for learning and growing.

Why “Safe Space” isn’t enough

The term safe space emerged from a good place — offering marginalized communities, and later workplaces, a sense of refuge from judgement or harm. A place to exhale. And that’s still important.

But in practice? Safety is subjective. What feels safe for me might feel unsafe for you. And sometimes, in trying so hard to protect “safety,” we avoid discomfort altogether — which means avoiding the very conversations that can spark learning and change.

What does “Brave Space” mean?

The shift to brave space doesn’t erase the need for respect, compassion, or care. Instead, it adds honesty:

• Discomfort is expected. We’re going to touch on identity, bias, privilege, exclusion, inequity. That won’t always feel comfortable.
• Courage is required. Growth takes vulnerability, whether it’s speaking up, listening deeply, or admitting mistakes.
• Impact matters more than intent. Brave spaces hold us accountable for how our words land, not just what we meant.
• Conflict is natural. It’s not something to fear — it’s something to navigate with civility.

Put simply: brave space is where the real work happens.

Why this matters in Canadian workplaces

Canadian organizations are investing more in inclusion — but progress stalls if people are afraid of “saying the wrong thing.” A 2023 Ipsos survey found that 54% of Canadians understand ageism, but nearly one in five admit they don’t know what it means at all. If people don’t feel they can ask honest questions or challenge assumptions, we’ll stay stuck at the surface.

Brave spaces give permission for the messiness that comes with real inclusion work — while grounding it in shared values of respect, dignity, and growth.

How to create a Brave Space at work

If you’re leading a workshop, a team meeting, or even just a tough one-on-one, here are principles you can borrow (and adapt):

1. Set agreements, not rules. For example: “Speak your truth, listen to understand, expect and accept non-closure.”
2. Normalize discomfort. Remind folks that if they feel awkward, they’re probably in the right place.
3. Balance voices. Ensure that no one group carries all the teaching or emotional labor.
4. Acknowledge impact. If harm is caused, name it and address it — don’t brush it under the rug for the sake of moving on.
5. Model vulnerability. Leaders should go first — admit what you don’t know, own your learning edges.
6. Check in, check out. Begin and end with reflections. This helps participants ground themselves and track their own growth.

Brave ≠ Unsafe

It’s important to be clear: calling a space brave doesn’t mean throwing people into the deep end without support. The goal isn’t to traumatize or shame, but to invite honesty. Think of it as:

• Safer, not perfectly safe. We can’t guarantee zero harm, but we can minimize it and commit to repairing it if it happens.
• Braver, not reckless. Courage means leaning into discomfort, not creating danger.

Final thought

When I tell people “this is a brave space for learning and growing,” I’m not promising perfection. I’m promising honesty. I’m acknowledging that we’ll fumble, that we’ll face discomfort, and that growth will come from it.

Because in the end, safety may be a feeling — but bravery is a choice. And that’s the choice that moves inclusion forward.