The Real Work of Facilitating Affinity Groups
Q: “I was asked to facilitate an affinity space for Global Majority people in my organization. The managers kept calling it a “safe space,” but I’ve seen these spaces fall apart—conflict erupts, some people go quiet, others leave altogether. I want to do better. How can I make this space truly meaningful and supportive?”
A: I’ve facilitated many affinity spaces over the years—for Black folks, for people of color, for queer people, for people navigating the impact of colonization and white supremacy culture. And one pattern keeps showing up: the tension between the intention to create a safe space and the reality of what it means to show up with our full selves—including our pain, our power, and sometimes, our projections.
It’s tempting to promise safety. The word feels warm, protective, and inviting. But what if the very people we’re trying to protect don’t experience safety the same way? And what if the structure of the space actually prevents the kind of courageous, honest connection we long for?
Let’s explore what helps.
1. Clarify the Purpose of the Space—Together
One of the biggest challenges I see in affinity groups happens when people show up with different expectations for what the space is meant to do.
Some come seeking healing.
Some are ready to organize and strategize.
Some are hoping to build professional connections.
But when these needs collide—when someone’s grief meets another’s urgency to act—it can lead to frustration, misunderstanding, and retreat.
Before the first word is spoken, I ask:
- “What are we hoping this space will give us?”
- “What do you need to feel supported here?”
- “Is this a space for grieving, for organizing, for learning, for celebration?”
Getting clear—together—about the purpose doesn’t eliminate conflict. But it gives us a shared compass for navigating it.
2. Don’t Promise Safety. Build Accountability
I used to try to create “safe spaces.” I’d open sessions with all the right language—“no judgment,” “confidentiality,” “come as you are.” But the truth is, no space is ever fully safe for everyone. We bring our histories, our wounds, and our differences into the room with us.
Elise Ahenkorah, a noted culture and inclusion strategist, asserts: “Safe spaces don’t exist for equity-deserving communities, and brave spaces negate the daily bravery marginalized people already have to display everywhere.”
What we can offer instead is an accountable space—a space where we agree to notice when harm happens, respond with care, and stay in connection even when it’s hard.
Try setting the tone like this:
- “Harm may happen here—and we won’t pretend otherwise. Our commitment is to meet it, not avoid it.”
- “We each take responsibility for our words, our impact, and our capacity to repair.”
- “We ask more from those with more power—not in blame, but in service to shared growth.”
Accountability isn’t about perfection. It’s about choosing each other, again and again, in the face of discomfort.
3. Acknowledge the Power in the Room
It’s easy to assume that affinity groups are “equalizing.” After all, everyone in the group shares a marginalized identity—right?
But lived experience tells a more complex story.
- In a Global Majority space, light-skinned participants may carry unspoken privilege.
- In a women’s group, trans and cis women may have radically different access to safety.
- In a queer space, white LGBTQ+ folks may unintentionally dominate the conversation.
When we don’t name these dynamics, we risk reproducing harm—even in spaces designed to liberate.
So we can name this explicitly:
“We’re here as folks who share this identity. And even within our shared identity, we hold different relationships to power. Let’s stay curious about that—not as a way to divide, but as a way to deepen our care.”
Naming difference is not the enemy of belonging. It’s the doorway into it.
4. Set Agreements That Reflect Real Life
Too often, group agreements read like a wish list:
- “Be respectful.”
- “Assume good intent.”
- “Don’t interrupt.”
But what does “respect” look like when someone is naming harm?
What happens when “good intent” causes real impact?
Instead of vague ideals, try agreements that reflect the messy, beautiful reality of community:
- We will name harm, and stay open to repair.
- We will hold impact and intent together—not as opposites, but as part of the same truth.
- We won’t rush to smooth over discomfort. We’ll stay with it long enough to learn something.
- We’ll recognize how power shapes our voices and who gets heard.
When these agreements are co-created, not imposed, they become tools for co-responsibility rather than rules to enforce.
5. Facilitate With Care and Courage
It’s a myth that affinity groups run themselves. Even when we’re among “our own,” dynamics arise. Silence. Dominance. Avoidance. Discomfort.
As a facilitator, I don’t show up to control the room—but I do show up to hold it.
That means I might say:
- “I’m hearing some tension—do we want to pause and check in?”
- “Let’s slow down here. It sounds like something important is trying to emerge.”
It means noticing when someone hasn’t spoken.
It means checking in when energy drops.
It means not turning away when harm is named.
Facilitation, at its best, is about creating containers where truth can be spoken, and people still stay. This means facilitation isn’t about preventing pain—it’s about making sure we don’t face it alone. So, let’s stop promising safety. Let’s offer presence, skill, and the courage to stay when things get hard.
That’s what makes an affinity space not just safe—but powerfully sacred.
Sharpen Your Practice:
If you’ve ever found yourself stuck in a facilitation moment—unsure how to handle silence, conflict, or a sudden shift in group energy—you’re not alone. Facilitation can be powerful, but it’s rarely easy.
The Facilitation Clinic is a live, interactive space where you can bring your real challenges and receive grounded, compassionate coaching. Together, we explore what makes facilitation effective, inclusive, and responsive—especially in the tough moments.
If you want to grow your skill, confidence, and clarity as a facilitator, I’d love to support you. Join us. Let’s grow together.