The default conference setup in India’s social sector usually favours groups that are articulate in mainstream languages, can visually navigate new spaces, communicate through traditional methods, and identify with the gender binary.
Even when inclusion is given consideration, privileged groups maintain control over the design and engagement while only symbolically including others. For instance, when conferences are conducted in English—rather than in a multilingual format—the burden of comprehension falls on non-English speakers. Similarly, inviting a small number of marginalised speakers or attendees without granting them decision-making power or opportunities to lead discussions reduces their presence to mere symbolism. Holding events in locations with limited accessibility for persons with disabilities and charging high participation fees that limit the access of socio-economically marginalised communities are also ways in which exclusion becomes systemic. Often, when individuals from underrepresented backgrounds are included, their participation is confined to panels on diversity rather than on core event topics.
While designing Change the Script—Dream a Dream’s annual gathering—we reflected on some of the biases and prejudices that make conferences exclusionary. During a preparatory workshop with the organising team, we engaged in individual and group reflection activities aimed at helping us understand how to hold space for our guests at the event. In the process, we uncovered gaps that had not been apparent to us. For instance, some participants with intersectional identities shared that being one of the few invited left them feeling alienated, as theirs was often the lone voice in the group. This prompted us to delve deeper into the distinction between tokenism and true inclusion.
On digging deeper, we realised that privilege manifests when our needs are automatically considered and met because we belong to the dominant group. This can lead us to avoid or ignore uncomfortable conversations about access and inclusion. Additionally, fears and preconceptions—such as believing we lack the expertise or do not work directly with diverse groups—can result in our leaving out people with intersectional identities.
Inclusion is often dismissed as too expensive to accommodate on a tight budget. But it soon became clear to us that inclusion requires self-reflection and deeper engagement to understand the needs of different communities.
Conferences and events must provide space for authentic stories to emerge. This necessitates inclusion to be approached not with anxiety about getting it right, but with compassion and curiosity. It requires more than just inviting individuals with intersectional identities; inclusion involves co-creating spaces where everyone feels seen, valued, and safe to contribute.

What does inclusion look like?
Through the experience of organising Change the Script, we have discovered that inclusion begins with a mindset shift. Here are some important things we learned along the way:
1. It’s not a diversity checklist
True inclusion goes beyond representation—it means recognising that each person brings a unique perspective shaped by their lived experiences. Creating inclusive spaces means acknowledging that people carry complex, overlapping identities that cannot be confined to a single category. This fosters deeper engagement and authentic participation.
In order to ensure true inclusion, ease of accessibility for all participants needs to be ensured. For instance, we incorporated multiple accessibility measures: Indian Sign Language (ISL) interpreters and Cardzilla app for communication with deaf participants, and sign-based rhythm activities so that they could follow synchronised movement along with other participants; as well as multi-sensorial art supplies such as Braille board games and tactile painting boards to enable blind participants to actively engage with art. We also arranged for prayer rooms, unisex restrooms, and other facilities that centred the experiences of marginalised participants.
2. It’s about ‘removing’ barriers, not ‘building’ access
The approach and intent matter. Building access implies adding accommodations as an afterthought, treating inclusion as an extra step rather than a foundational principle. We intended to remove barriers by focusing on eliminating existing obstacles that prevent participation, thereby making inclusion the default. For example, integrating sign language interpretation from the design and planning phase, or providing materials in Braille at the event, helped dismantle exclusionary barriers. Proactively designing for participants with diverse abilities, offering visual descriptions during introductions, and embedding assistive technologies supported seamless participation.
3. It does not have to be expensive
In our experience, most inclusion measures do not require additional funds but rather a commitment to being mindful. Using freely available phone-based apps such as Cardzilla and Bhashini can help communicate with people with diverse needs. Describing oneself while speaking to a blind person requires no monetary investment. At Change the Script, all inclusion measures—such as sign language interpretation, tactile art supplies, and Braille translation—accounted for less than 3 percent of the event budget.
True inclusion is not a fixed destination
Powerful storytelling by, and engagement with, people from marginalised backgrounds helps deepen collective understanding of exclusion and discrimination, prompting many to reflect on their own power and privilege within the system. Furthermore, the intersectionality of participants can bring unique and fresh perspectives.
However, true inclusion is not a fixed destination but an ongoing process. Well-intentioned measures may sometimes not work completely or even fail, bringing new insights. At Change the Script, for example, when we invited participants to share their names and pronouns on the name tags, we overlooked that some individuals might not be comfortable or ready to share their pronouns in a public setting. In hindsight, we realise the importance of allowing participants to self-disclose at their own pace rather than expecting uniform participation.
The sessions were designed to be engaging and interactive. But we noticed that the packed two-and-a-half-day schedule was overwhelming for some participants, especially those with ADHD. Continuous social interaction and sensory load made it difficult for them to fully participate. Having designated quiet spaces and more intentional breaks between activities could have better accommodated their needs.
While listening to the participants’ experiences, we observed that some with social privilege felt uneasy, as the conversations unintentionally evoked feelings of blame or shame. This reinforced the need to frame these discussions with care, and centre learning, shared responsibility, and collective action rather than personal guilt. We also recognised that those with social privilege may not always hold positional power.
Inclusion requires us to challenge ingrained norms, embrace discomfort, and stay open to feedback from those with lived experiences. The future of inclusive conferences lies not in perfecting a universal formula, but in creating responsive, adaptive environments—where every person’s contribution is recognised as essential to the group’s collective wisdom. This will help us move away from creating spaces of performative diversity and towards equitable participation.
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