The Universal Language of Shared Experiences: Connecting Across Cultures

Leaders are right to celebrate diversity-and they can also leverage our shared beliefs

Most ⁣of us have settled into fall now,whether that means back to school,relinquishing summer Fridays,or closing up holiday homes.If you’re lucky, you may have traveled and had a chance to experience a new culture, try new foods, and interact with people different from yourself.

In⁤ corporate life, manny of my clients seek advice on global teams. how to⁣ unite them, how to respect different⁤ views, and ways to connect across borders and politics. And while we⁢ most of us are keen to celebrate the vast diversity of beliefs and traditions and customs around the globe, ⁣I was recently struck⁤ by ‍how much ⁢more we ⁤have in common.As a psychologist, I’m trained to ⁤recognize two truths: how complex and unique humans⁢ are, and⁤ how many commonalities we all share. But even‍ I got a reminder ‍recently.

I recently went ⁤to Zambia, to a relatively remote area, where I had the chance⁤ to⁢ really disconnect⁢ from life in London. Or, to put it another way, I wanted to really connect, but with other people, in a different place. It was the end of the summer, and a final holiday before that autumn back-to-school feeling ⁤set in with clients and deadlines.As I took a taxi to a ⁤big plane, to a smaller plane, to‍ a tiny plane ‍to my destination, I felt ‍my “real” life retreating. But by the time I⁣ was beginning the journey ⁤back home,I had⁤ learned how much we all have in common.

I grew up in ⁣Chicago,⁢ where my father ran a restaurant.So, I grew up around cooking and serving food and running a small business. One night in Zambia, I was the only guest. I asked the staff if I could join ‍in preparing the meal, and they graciously ⁢agreed. (I probably watched too much Anthony Bourdain…) The nice thing about prepping food-whether it’s in a Midwestern restaurant for 100 diners or in a ⁣small hut on the banks of the upper Zambezi River-is that you have time to‍ chat. ⁣You’re focused, you’re chopping, you’re adjusting the heat… but you’re also ‍stuck in a small warm space with other ⁣people for hours.

I spoke with the women as we ⁢pan-fried okra and prepared the meat and watched the grill. We traded stories of daily life, my flat in London, their homes nearby. I was prepared to politely ask about⁣ this or that, unique to Zambian life. Instead, we bonded over children and ‍dinnertime. Like me, they moaned about children and curfews, and