As an Operations Assistant at Bellwether, I had the privilege of being one of three Bellwarians to attend Dreamforce ‘16, Salesforce.com’s annual 4-day user conference in San Francisco. At Bellwether, we use Salesforce as our primary data and client management system, and I was looking forward to learning more about what Salesforce has to offer to take our operations to the next level. This was my first time attending, and I had been looking forward to it for months. I spent hours poring over the schedule and the 500+ sessions per day, trying to strategize which ones I (and, as an extension, Bellwether) would get the most value out of. I mentally prepared to be overwhelmed by the crowd of more than 100,000 attendees descending upon this small section of San Francisco. The last thing I ever expected to think about was my gender identity and how it would play out at the conference.
One of the first of many articles of swag available to attendees was a Dreamforce backpack. Inside it were brochures of sponsors, a water bottle, and a button pin attached to a card and stickers of pronouns, including one that simply stated, “Ask me.”
The card explained, “As part of Saleforce’s commitment to equality for all, Dreamforce welcomes Trailblazers of all gender identities.” The card, as well as various other communications I had seen before and throughout the conference, informed attendees that there were “all gender restrooms” in one of the main conference centers.
I don’t think I can adequately explain how this display of inclusivity made me feel, particularly because I hadn’t even been expecting it. I felt seen and welcomed, like I would be able to bring most of my whole self to this conference. My existence as a genderqueer person was validated by the restroom signs and this 4×6 card and button. I immediately chose the “Ask Me” sticker, and proudly fastened the button to my lanyard, front and center, just above my badge. I wasn’t sure what I would say when someone asked me, but I was hoping that someone would. Continue reading