Beyond consultation: Building bridges to shared leadership with first-voice experts

This article is part of the “First-voice expertise and social change” series.

Most organizations know consultations matter and are familiar with engagement by now. They care about equity and want to engage diverse communities meaningfully.  

Everything looks right on paper.

They make consultation plans with a budget line for engagement. The invitation list is thoughtfully assembled. Community members are invited. A facilitator asks good questions. Feedback is requested; people generously share lived experience, insight, and sometimes deeply personal truths. Notes are captured from the gathered perspectives; gratitude is expressed. Food and childcare may even be provided.  

Consultation feels…manageable. Structured, time-bound, and contained. Yet, nothing fundamentally changes.   

If that sounds familiar, you are not alone. 

This is where many organizations find themselves. Although organizations are asking harder questions than they were 5 to 10 years ago, many institutions are still operating from the same old underlying mental model. And mental models, when left unexamined, can quietly become gatekeepers. If organizations want better outcomes, deeper trust, and more sustainable change, consultation cannot be the finish line. It has to be the starting point. 

This is an invitation to think critically about the next step in first-voice leadership. I’m talking about something deeper than improved consultation or slightly more inclusive engagement. I mean authentic leadership, relationship, and power. 

Narrow mental models lead to narrow leadership pipelines 

A mental model is simply the internal framework we use to make sense of the world. It helps us make quick judgments. Who seems credible? Who looks like leadership? What counts as expertise? We all use mental models. The issue is not having them. The issue is when outdated ones quietly shape decisions we believe are right. For example, who comes to mind when you picture a leader? 

Be honest. 

Is it someone polished and calm under pressure? Someone formally educated who is articulate in institutional language? Perhaps white, able-bodied, cisgender. Someone whose résumé unfolds in a clean, uninterrupted line with none of the messiness that systems often impose on people whose lives are pushed to the margins. Those biases are rooted in social conditioning, and conditioning has consequences. 

If your mental model of leadership is narrow, your leadership pipeline will be too. If lived expertise is seen as emotionally compelling but strategically secondary, consultation becomes the ceiling. If Indigenous knowledge is welcomed as cultural enrichment but not governance expertise, power remains centralized. If racialized leaders expressing urgency are read as “aggressive,” while the same urgency in others is read as conviction, opportunity narrows. If disability is framed only through accommodation rather than leadership contribution, innovation is missed. If 2SLGBTQIA+ leaders are invited to advise on inclusion but not shape institutional direction, the pattern repeats.  

Let me ask you this: Are your mental models helping you discover leadership, or quietly filtering it out?  Too many organizations think they are opening doors when they are still guarding gates.  

How we open the gates 

I know something about gates. 

In 2003, I graduated with a strong GPA, ready to take on the world. I was ambitious and deeply motivated. Instead of open doors, I repeatedly encountered employers who only saw me as a liability risk. Although I was called back for second and even third interviews, in the end, no one would touch me. “What if you fall?” many asked. “I wish you had a different disability,” one said directly. Others called me “overqualified” – code for “Too complicated. Too much accommodation. Not quite the right fit.” In other words, not leadership material. 

As a Black, disabled woman, those assumptions were layered on race, disability, gender, perceived risk, and, yes, institutional discomfort. That is the reality of intersectionality. Barriers rarely arrive one at a time, and neither do assumptions. 

Eventually, I ended up on government assistance. That is not where I imagined I would land.  

Ironically, the same labour market that would not pay me for my expertise was perfectly happy to accept it unpaid. Funny how disabled work efforts often become much less risky when it is free. So, I volunteered because my desire to contribute could not be quenched. I volunteered in several sectors for over 15 years.  

Relationship is a bridge between potential and leadership 

At Macaulay Child Development Centre, I volunteered in its Parent Advocate Leader (PAL) and Book Nook programs. That could easily have been the end of the story – a community-facing volunteer role that is useful, appreciated, and limited. A tidy transaction. 

Instead, something different happened. 

Macaulay staff began investing in our relationship and in my potential – beyond what I could do for them, toward how they could support my vision for myself. First, I was invited to speak at the AGM. Then I was hired to facilitate one of their all-staff training sessions. At this point, I was both a recipient of service and a hired consultant. 

Then, I was hired to coordinate one of the programs I had been volunteering with: the Book Nook program. I was overseeing a small volunteer team, and still volunteering in other capacities, but I was also paid for this portion of my work. After that, I was promoted into an Equity Coordinator role, developing monthly lunch-and-learns and working alongside senior leadership. That progression matters, because relationships are built slowly. 

Too often, organizations only reach for lived experts when they have an immediate need, such as a policy challenge, a program redesign, or a consultation deadline. That is not relationship. Real relationship means continuity. It nurtures trust before urgency appears and stays connected beyond a deliverable. Think about how organizations manage strategic partnerships with other organizations. You do not build trust only when something goes wrong. You invest over time. First-voice relationships deserve the same seriousness. Relationship is not about what sector or issue area you work in. It is about posture. A transactional posture asks, “What can we learn from this community?” A relational posture asks, “What can we build together?” It requires cultivating trust, accountability, and mutual investment over time.  

Mentorship, development, and advancement 

Eventually, the skills I honed at Macaulay helped bridge me to an innovative opportunity at Toronto Neighbourhood Centres (TNC). This is where the distinction between consultation and leadership became even more visible. 

The opportunity was a one-year senior level position structured as a fellowship. The title: Director of Networks and Relationships. Not merely participant, nor community voice alone. Director. That distinction matters. The responsibilities included facilitating inter-agency affinity groups, advancing community safety strategies, policy advocacy, network weaving, and sector leadership. 

While some aspects of my role were predefined, others evolved based on my strengths, goals, and aspirations. Shared leadership is not simply putting a marginalized person into a pre-designed structure and asking them to adapt. It creates enough flexibility for leadership to emerge authentically and effectively. 

I was supported, mentored, and expected to contribute meaningfully. I was trusted to think, question, and, most importantly, lead. That was not merely symbolic inclusion. That is how social justice work results in meaningful leadership. What made the TNC fellowship impactful was the decision to invest heavily in me. 

The fellowship was an opportunity to exercise my agency and a pathway to financial independence. Advancement is one of the most overlooked benefits that organizations can provide to first-voice leaders. 

Why individual stories matter to whole communities 

At this point, you may reasonably wonder, “This is a nice personal story. But what does one individual pathway teach us about engaging whole communities?”  Fair question. The point is not that every organization should go find “an Ingrid.” (Please do not. I am very busy!) 

My story is just one illustration that talent exists beyond traditional pipelines. Marginalized communities already contain leaders. Potential often sits outside institutional imagination. 

Investment in relationship can change the trajectory of your impact. Mentorship and structural legitimacy matter. When leadership pathways are intentionally created, the impact extends far beyond the individual. When one first-voice leader advances, they rarely advance alone. They expand what has become imaginable for others who have been told leadership was never meant for them. 

As a blind leader, I changed meeting culture by encouraging people to say their names before speaking, embrace silence more comfortably, and allow more patience in the flow of conversation. These were small shifts with large accessibility implications. I also established the organization’s first disability justice affinity group. These changes rippled out into the organization’s culture. 

While consultation gathers perspective, leadership changes systems. If systems can create pathways for one leader, they can create pathways for many. That is how community-wide leadership grows, through intentional cultivation. 

What shared leadership looks like 

Shared leadership creates influence. This is where organizations often hesitate. Shared leadership involves more than listening. It involves the potential for movement and influence. Representation alone does not equal power. 

Organizations often focus narrowly on immediate contribution – “What insight can this person offer right now?”  Investing in leadership creates wider, ripple effects. Let’s compare. Consultation says, “Tell us what you think.” Shared leadership says, “Help shape what happens next.” Consultation asks for perspective. Shared leadership redistributes influence. Consultation may invite you to the table. Shared leadership lets you help decide the menu and seating plan, and ponder whether the table should have existed in that form at all. 

Shared leadership means first-voice experts help shape priorities, strategic direction, measures of success, implementation approaches, risk identification, governance conversations, accountability, mechanisms… whew! It means expertise is not invited merely to validate decisions you’ve already made. It helps shape them. That is how systems change. 

This applies far beyond direct service organizations. If you are a policy shop, relationship might mean building sustained relationships with community advisers before drafting recommendations. As a funder, it might mean involving lived experts in shaping grant priorities rather than only reviewing outcomes. A standards body might consider embedding community voices in governance rather than one-off consultations. If you are a research institution, first-voice leadership might mean moving from recruitment to co-investigation. 

If shared leadership is so beneficial, why is it still rare?  

The answer is that many institutions continue to operate with an invisible hierarchy of expertise. Formal education is seen as authoritative. Institutional tenure is seen as credibility. Technical language is seen as competence. Lived expertise is often positioned as personal perspective, “interesting,” maybe helpful, perhaps emotional. But it’s not positioned as leadership.  

That assumption quietly shapes countless decisions, like who gets invited, believed, and trusted. Yet lived expertise is expertise. It is knowledge built through direct navigation, adaptation, survival, problem-solving, resilience, and pattern recognition. A professional understands how a system was designed. A lived expert understands how it actually behaves. Organizations that recognize this make better decisions. Organizations that ignore it repeat predictable mistakes. 

Sometimes the barrier is not attitude; it is infrastructure. For example, rigid hiring practices, inflexible procurement rules, governance models that privilege traditional expertise, grant structures that fund engagement but not leadership, and policy timelines that invite consultation after key decisions are already made.  

Bureaucracy can be an efficient way of preserving exclusion while appearing neutral. 

Fear and the illusion of control 

There is also fear – of governance complexity, of sharing control, of slower processes, of “getting it wrong.” Another fear is that lived experts will challenge assumptions that feel comfortable. These fears are very common and understandable. Shared leadership is harder than consultation. It requires humility, flexibility, and structural redesign.  

What does this fear cost? Consider the risks that come from excluding first-voice leadership: programs and policies that miss the mark – when trust erodes, communities disengage, and innovation stalls. The illusion of control can be expensive. 

Often, the greater risk is not sharing power – it’s designing systems without the expertise of the people most affected by them. 

Paying first-voice experts and leaders 

Too often, organizations speak about lived expertise as essential, and ask for significant labour from lived experts, while treating compensation as optional. That sends a clear message to community that their expertise matters, but not enough to budget for.  

We rarely ask lawyers, consultants, researchers, facilitators, or policy advisers to contribute their expertise for free. First-voice expertise should be viewed through the same lens. The question is not whether lived experts should be compensated, but how. The answer depends on the nature of the role. 

Organizations should think broadly about the roles they create for community leaders. 

Not every contribution needs to happen through an advisory committee. First-voice leaders may serve as policy co-designers, governance advisers, steering committee members, researchers, facilitators, mentors, board members, project leads, or staff leaders. 

Someone contributing to a short-term consultation may receive an honorarium or consultation fee. Someone helping to shape strategy over a longer period may be retained as an adviser or consultant. In some cases, the most appropriate approach is employment, particularly when lived expertise is being integrated into ongoing leadership, governance, program design, research, or policy work.  

The form of payment may vary, but the principle behind it doesn’t: Expertise deserves recognition, and recognition includes compensation. 

To find a useful benchmark, ask yourself: What would you pay another expert for equivalent contribution? Because that is what this is – expert contribution.   

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Tips for moving from consultation to shared leadership 

If your organization is serious about sharing leadership with marginalized communities, here are some practical starting points. 

1. Audit your mental models 

Before redesigning your processes, examine your assumptions. If your mental model of leadership only includes people with traditional résumés, polished institutional language, or uninterrupted professional pathways, you may be filtering out extraordinary leaders before the conversation even begins. 

2. Build bridges, not one-off invitations 

Marginalized communities do not suddenly develop leadership capacity the moment an organization sends a consultation invite. Leadership grows through investment – in trust, responsibility, mentorship, and opportunities that expand over time.  

3. Move beyond transactional engagement 

If your relationship with lived experts only begins when you need something, that is transaction. Relationship looks different. It includes continuity, transparency, mutual trust, and communication beyond immediate deliverables.

If your first emails always begin with “Sorry for the short notice,” this might be a sign of transaction, rather than relationship.

4. Share power and influence, not just speaking time

Consultation is not the same as leadership. Inviting someone to speak does not mean they can influence outcomes. Shared leadership means lived experts help shape priorities, define success, identify risks, and participate in decisions.

If community voices are present but power remains unchanged, that is engagement – not shared leadership.

5. Recognize expertise in all its forms

Lived expertise is not anecdotal garnish. It is knowledge shaped by navigation, adaptation, resilience, and pattern recognition. This applies across disability, race, Indigeneity, gender identity, poverty, migration, child welfare experience, and other lived realities.

Representation matters, but representation is not merely about who is in the room. It involves leadership and who shapes the agenda, influences decisions, and benefits from the outcomes. Tokenism occurs when a person is invited to symbolize a community without being given authentic and meaningful influence. The goal is to have power shared, not to have a seat occupied.

6. Pay people like experts 

Lived expertise creates value, and compensation should reflect that. This is not about generosity. It is about legitimacy. Compensation might include:

The right model depends on: 

• Role scope 
• Preparation required 
• Labour, including emotional labour 
• Accessibility costs 
• Time commitment 
• Decision-making responsibility 

7. Design for more than hiring 

Some organizations hire staff or provide direct services, and their opportunities to share leadership might be more evident. Other types of organizations also have this responsibility. Policy organizations can co-design recommendations. Funders can include lived experts in grant-making decisions. Researchers can build community co-investigator models. Standards bodies can embed first-voice governance.

8. Invest in mentorship and leadership development 

Being trusted matters. Being developed matters. Shared leadership is not just about inviting already-polished leaders. It is about helping leadership grow.

9. Expect discomfort

The redistribution of power is not tidy. Timelines may shift. Decisions may become more complex. You may hear things that challenge institutional assumptions. That does not mean the process is failing. It may mean it is finally becoming real.

 10. Stay in relationship when it gets hard

This may be the most important one. Anyone can engage when everyone agrees. Shared leadership is tested during disagreement, tension, and uncertainty. That is where trust either deepens or collapses.

The question is not whether marginalized communities are ready for leadership. They already lead every day: in families, communities, movements, and workplaces. The real question is whether institutions are ready to recognize leadership when it arrives in forms they did not expect. Consultation may open the door, but shared leadership builds the bridge. And when enough bridges are built, entire systems begin to move. 

Shared leadership sounds inspiring in principle. In practice, power shifts create tension. This is where our next conversation on grit and sustainability begins.