“Cultural Fit” Is Just White Gatekeeping—Let’s Call It What It Is

If you’ve ever worked in corporate America you’ve probably heard this phrase before. Many of us have probably even used. 

It’s this idea of “cultural fit.”

On the surface, it sounds harmless. Even thoughtful. We want our workplaces to feel cohesive, collaborative, and easy to navigate. We want people who “mesh” with the team, who “get” the vibe, who won’t “rock the boat.”

But the more I dig into it—and trust me, I’ve been digging—the more I realized that “cultural fit” is just a more polite way of saying “you’re not like us.” And when “us” is a majority-white, able-bodied, cisgender, straight, neurotypical workforce… guess what? That phrase becomes a form of white gatekeeping.

When “Fit” Means “Like Me”

In a recent episode of White Women Wake Up, my mom Karen and I dove headfirst into this topic. We unpacked how insidious this phrase has become in hiring and workplace culture.

Karen brought it up first:

“When I hear a white woman say, ‘We’re looking for cultural fit,’ I immediately think—what does that mean? You’re looking for someone who shares your white lens? Your age? Your able-bodied experience? Your heterosexual worldview?”

The phrase “cultural fit” gets used in interviews, in performance reviews, and most often, when someone’s being let go. “It just wasn’t a good cultural fit” becomes a catch-all for everything we’re too uncomfortable to say outright.

But what’s worse is that it often gets said without realizing its impact. That’s what makes it so sneaky—and so dangerous.

The Comfort of Sameness

Let’s be honest. Most of us feel more comfortable with people who are like us. That’s human nature. But in the workplace, comfort should never be the goal—especially not at the cost of diversity, equity, and inclusion.

As I said on the podcast:

“Skill sets and camaraderie can be two separate things. You don’t have to want to get drinks with your co-workers to be skilled and qualified. But we’ve prioritized sameness as safety.”

And that prioritization—however unconscious—means that BIPOC candidates, queer folks, neurodivergent individuals, disabled people, and anyone else who doesn’t match the dominant culture often get passed over or pushed out.

Not because they aren’t excellent. But because they challenge the status quo.

Intersectionality? Who’s That?

What’s particularly damaging about “cultural fit” is how it completely ignores intersectionality—the concept that our identities are layered, and that overlapping systems of oppression impact people in vastly different ways.

A queer Latina woman doesn’t experience the workplace the same way a white queer woman does. A Black disabled man doesn’t navigate hiring the same way a white neurodivergent woman might.

But “cultural fit” doesn’t account for any of that. It assumes there’s one ideal mold. And if you don’t fit that mold? You’re out.

On our podcast, Karen and I talked about how this language becomes a convenient way to sidestep hard conversations. It's not that the person wasn’t qualified. It's that they didn’t “click.”

Click with whom? Under what norms? Based on whose comfort?

A Historical Legacy of Assimilation

This isn’t new. In fact, as Karen reflected, it goes way back:

“In the 80s, I didn’t even think to bring my full self to work. Assimilation was the name of the game. And now we’ve just rebranded it.”

Assimilation has always been the silent requirement of marginalized folks trying to “make it” in predominantly white spaces. Wear the right clothes. Tame your hair. Code-switch your voice. Don’t talk about your community too much. Don’t challenge authority.

And white women—let’s be real—we’ve played a role in upholding that system. Often, we were the first ones through the door. And once inside, we were told: act like the men, don’t make waves, don’t rock the boat. And whether consciously or not, we passed that expectation along.

“Because we had to assimilate to survive, we now expect others to do the same. That’s the legacy we’ve inherited—and it’s the one we need to unlearn.”

The Threat Factor

So much of gatekeeping is rooted in fear. Fear of losing our power. Fear of being challenged. Fear of the unknown.

“Gatekeeping always comes down to threat—either I feel threatened by someone different, or I’m trying to protect someone from the threats I experienced.”

That’s what hit me hardest. Even the ways we think we’re helping can sometimes be gatekeeping in disguise. I shared a story on the podcast about how, for years, I didn’t share where I bought clothes because I felt ashamed of being in a bigger body. I didn’t want to be “outed.” But in doing so, I was gatekeeping information from another woman who needed support.

That wasn’t malice. That was my fear.

And yet, the outcome was the same: someone felt excluded.

So, What Do We Do Instead?

Here’s the thing: we’re not bad people for wanting to feel safe or comfortable. But comfort cannot be the compass for building equitable teams. We have to redefine what we mean by “fit.”

Instead of cultural fit, ask about cultural contribution. How does this person’s lived experience add to the richness of your team? What perspectives are missing at your table—and how can you invite them in?

And then do the harder work: dismantling the systems that make it unsafe for them to show up fully.

A Challenge for All of Us

So here’s my invitation to you, especially if you’re a white woman in leadership or hiring roles:

1. Audit your language. Where are you using terms like “cultural fit” or “good vibes” as a stand-in for similarity?

2. Sit in your discomfort. If someone doesn’t feel like an instant “fit,” ask yourself why. Is it about qualifications—or is it about comfort?

3. Amplify difference. Celebrate perspectives that challenge your worldview. Hire people who make you think differently.

4. Check your fear. What are you afraid of losing by creating space for someone else?

I’ll leave you with this from Karen’s reflection at the end of our episode:

“When I use language like cultural fit, I think it’s code for ‘You’re not like me.’ And if you’re not like me, that might make me uncomfortable. But maybe that discomfort is where I grow the most.”

White women, we can do better. Not just for others—but for ourselves. Because a world where we all thrive doesn’t require sameness. It requires courage, humility, and the willingness to break the gate.

Let’s be gate-openers, not gatekeepers.

Stay curious, be open and keep waking up!

-Jonelle