I Don’t Want a Seat at the Table Just to Sit Quietly

Aug 17

Written By Tori Seals

There is a phrase that gets used constantly in advocacy:

“We need a seat at the table.”

And yes, representation matters.

Being in the room matters.

Having access to decision-makers matters.

But I have learned something important:

I do not want a seat at the table just to sit quietly.

If the expectation is that I show up, smile, nod, take a picture, thank everyone for including me, and then keep my mouth shut when something does not make sense, that is not meaningful representation.

That is decoration.

A Seat Is Not the Same as a Voice

Organizations love to talk about inclusion.

Committees want representatives from different communities.

Agencies create advisory boards.

Politicians assemble stakeholder groups.

Nonprofits form coalitions.

All of that can be valuable.

But simply placing someone in a chair does not mean their perspective is being heard.

There is a difference between being invited into the room and being allowed to influence what happens in it.

Sometimes people are invited because their lived experience is genuinely valued.

Other times, they are invited because their presence looks good in a photograph.

Those are very different things.

If You Ask for Lived Experience, Expect Lived Experience

This is especially important when organizations say they want people with lived experience.

That sounds wonderful.

But lived experience is rarely neat.

It does not always fit comfortably inside a talking point.

People who have actually navigated broken systems may have uncomfortable things to say about those systems.

They may point out gaps that leadership did not notice.

They may question assumptions.

They may disagree with the proposed solution.

They may say that the program everyone is celebrating does not work nearly as well as people think it does.

If you invite people with lived experience into the room, you have to be prepared for them to actually use it.

Otherwise, you are not asking for experience.

You are asking for validation.

Advocacy Is Not Applause

A good advocate is not necessarily the person who agrees with everyone.

Sometimes the best advocate in the room is the one asking the question nobody else wants to ask.

Who is missing?

Who gets excluded?

Who pays for this?

What happens when the funding ends?

How will this work outside of Washington?

What happens to rural families?

What happens to Guard and Reserve families?

What happens to surviving spouses?

What happens to the people who do not fit neatly into the eligibility criteria?

Those questions can be inconvenient.

But advocacy is supposed to be inconvenient sometimes.

If the only acceptable contribution is applause, then the meeting does not need advocates.

It needs an audience.

Access Can Become a Trap

There is another uncomfortable part of having a seat at the table:

Once you finally get one, you may become afraid of losing it.

You start thinking carefully about what you say.

You wonder whether asking a difficult question will affect the next invitation.

You worry about being labeled difficult.

You worry about being removed from a committee.

You worry about upsetting someone with influence.

You begin softening your language.

Then you begin avoiding certain topics.

Eventually, maintaining access becomes more important than using it.

That is a dangerous place for an advocate to end up.

Because access is not the mission.

The people you represent are.

Being “Easy to Work With” Should Not Mean Being Easy to Ignore

I believe in professionalism.

I believe in diplomacy.

I believe in building relationships.

You can disagree without being disrespectful.

You can challenge someone without attacking them.

You can raise difficult questions without turning every meeting into a battlefield.

But there is a difference between being professional and being harmless.

Sometimes organizations say they want people who are “easy to work with.”

What they really mean is:

People who will not challenge the process.

People who will not ask uncomfortable questions.

People who will not object publicly.

People who will not create friction.

That may make meetings easier.

It does not necessarily make policy better.

Representation Comes With Responsibility

If I am sitting at a table representing a community, I have a responsibility that goes beyond simply being present.

I need to listen.

I need to ask questions.

I need to understand the issue.

I need to speak when something affects the people who are not in the room.

I need to raise concerns when a proposal looks good on paper but creates problems in practice.

And sometimes I need to say:

This is not good enough.

That does not mean I reject the entire effort.

It means I take the responsibility seriously.

Representation is not about being grateful for the invitation.

It is about remembering who the invitation is supposed to serve.

Not Everyone Can Be in the Room

That is another reason speaking up matters.

For every person sitting at the table, there may be thousands who are not.

They are working.

They are caregiving.

They are raising children.

They live too far away.

They cannot afford the travel.

They do not have connections.

They do not know the meeting is happening.

They do not have the right title.

They may not even realize a decision is being made that will affect them.

That means the people who do have access carry an additional responsibility.

The chair is not a trophy.

It is an obligation.

Sometimes Speaking Up Costs You the Seat

This is perhaps the hardest part.

Sometimes you can do everything professionally and still make people uncomfortable.

Sometimes asking the right questions means you are not invited back.

Sometimes challenging the preferred narrative makes you less popular.

Sometimes people would rather replace the person asking difficult questions with someone more agreeable.

That is the risk.

And it forces an advocate to decide what matters more:

Keeping the seat.

Or using it.

If the only way I can remain at the table is by refusing to advocate for the people I am supposedly there to represent, then I have to question the value of that seat.

I Would Rather Be Useful Than Popular

Advocacy is not a popularity contest.

At least, it should not be.

I do not need every organization to love me.

I do not need every elected official to agree with me.

I do not need to be invited to every reception, luncheon, conference, or photo opportunity.

Those things can be useful.

But they are not the measure of effectiveness.

The measure is whether anything improves.

Did the policy change?

Did someone notice the gap?

Did a decision-maker learn something they did not know?

Did the community gain a voice?

Did the people who were being overlooked finally get considered?

That matters more to me than whether I was considered pleasant enough to receive another invitation.

Final Thought

Yes, I want a seat at the table.

But I want it for a reason.

I want to listen.

I want to learn.

I want to contribute.

I want to ask questions.

I want to challenge assumptions.

I want to speak for people who are not in the room.

And when necessary, I want to say that something is wrong.

If that makes the room uncomfortable, so be it.

A seat at the table is not valuable because you are sitting in it.

It is valuable because of what you are willing to do while you are there.