Who should adjust?

A women’s event. A soft-spoken panel. A woman at the back who asked for more than a seat at the front—and in doing so, made me rethink the whole setup. 

This is the moment that made me pause.

Not just because of what she said, but what it revealed about how we still misunderstand inclusion. A short story about hearing, design, and shifting the spotlight.

🎙️ This Made Me Pause is written and hosted by Prerna Goel – fintech leader, artist, and avid hiker.
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Transcript

There are moments that make you pause.
Not the big dramatic ones—but the quiet kind.

The kind that catch you off guard, shift something in your thinking… and just sit with you, long after the moment’s passed.

This was one of those.

I was at a women’s network launch recently.
Now, I’ll admit—these kinds of events usually make me pause in a different way.
As in: “Do I really want to go to this?”
Not because I’m cynical, but because I’ve seen enough to know that good intentions don’t always lead to lasting change.
But this one looked promising. The panel was packed with brilliant women, and the vibe in the room was buzzing.

I got there a bit late—standard—and ended up standing at the back.
The discussion kicked off. It looked great.
But… I couldn’t really hear most of it.

Turns out, the organisers had decided a mic wasn’t needed—because “small room.”
Unfortunately, not all the speakers were easy to hear.
Some of them had the kind of voices you’d lean in for—which is charming over coffee, but less so in a room full of people craning their necks.

Then, halfway through, something happened.

A woman near me raised her hand and said, calmly:
“Would you mind speaking up? I have a hearing impairment.”

Completely reasonable.

One of the panellists, clearly trying to help, said:
“Oh of course—why don’t you come to the front?”

And then came the moment.
The one that made me pause.

This woman, without raising her voice or making a fuss, replied:

“No. You need to speak louder. Because there might be others here who have a similar issue.”

That was it. That was the shift.

I stood there, frozen for a second—because I realised how much we’d missed the point.
Here we were, talking about inclusion… and yet the responsibility had quietly been placed on her.
Not the system. Not the setup.
Her.

That moment—it stuck. It made me think about how often we get this wrong, even when our hearts are in the right place.

Because real inclusion?
It’s not about asking individuals to move forward or speak up.
It’s about designing the space so no one has to.
So they’re already included—without having to ask.

We like to think inclusion is about making room.
But it’s really about shifting focus.
From the speaker to the listener.
From the designer to the user.
From the centre… to the edges.

That woman didn’t just make a point—she reframed the whole conversation.
She didn’t need a stage or a spotlight. Just one well-placed line and the confidence to say it.

And it made me pause.
Not just in the moment, but later.
On the walk home. In the days after.
It made me look again at the rooms I sit in, the conversations I have, and how we think about who's being heard.

Thanks for pausing with me.
See you next time.