March 23, 2021
Georgeann Couchara, VP Talent, Danaher
In the fall of 2014, as I was wrapping up my last few weeks at Ormco—then one of Danaher’s operating companies in the now spun-off Dental Platform—and preparing for a new role at SCIEX, I had a series of meetings that proved transformational for not only my career, but also my life outside of work. First, a woman on the Ormco team asked if I could share some advice on her professional development—not a rare occurrence in my field of HR. Then, another woman scheduled time simply to say thank you; she brought in a beautiful orchid and a handwritten note, and she said she’d miss me and my contributions to the team. I was grateful for both encounters, but it wasn’t until the last meeting, also with a female team member, that I realized what all three had in common.
When that last woman sat down, she was quiet. I probed a bit to ask how I could help her—and she looked up at me and started to cry. She quickly assured me there was nothing wrong, saying, “I’m just moved by the fact you’re leaving us.” At the time, I was the only female senior leader on the team, and she explained that other women in the company who hoped to advance their careers had been watching my path with great interest.
At that moment, I suddenly realized that I had never paid much attention to my gender in the context of my career.
Of course, like any woman, I had encountered bumps along the way and insensitive comments here and there. But I had fundamentally failed to see that I was part of an underrepresented group, and that my hard work, my growth, and ultimately my success meant something for other women.
It took these three meetings to make me aware of a reality that I should have recognized all along.
As luck would have it, I had the opportunity to take an important step in my D&I journey a few weeks later. I was invited to join Danaher’s new Diversity Council, and though I wasn’t entirely sure what I was getting myself into, I jumped at the chance. As I learned about the experience of associates from underrepresented groups—from their needs, to what they struggled to ask for, to their visibility or lack thereof—I gained an entirely new lens through which to see my work in career development and talent acquisition. I began making space in my one-on-one coaching conversations for candid discussions about representation.
I started to examine more deeply how diverse candidates might view Danaher. And in every conversation about talent assessment and succession, I learned to hold myself and my colleagues accountable for thinking about the competencies that are truly required for a role, rather than relying on our existing models for what leadership looks like.
As an HR professional, joining the council turned out to be nothing short of a gift.
That’s not to say it’s been smooth sailing for me ever since. My path over the years has been a never-ending series of learning curves—including learning to slow down enough to think carefully about what I see and hear. I’ve needed to practice active listening, and I’ve needed the humility to simply take in what associates from underrepresented groups were offering to teach me. That includes, of course, even my own group; being a woman does not mean I automatically understand the experience of every other woman on my team.
I still have a lot to learn. But years later, and now in my second stint on the Diversity Council, I do see progress. Whereas most of my first experience was—rightly—spent listening, today I am often a voice for pushing our work, and our colleagues, further. I am more comfortable being uncomfortable, less afraid to be wrong in service of eventually getting something right.
And while I, like so many of us, am often tempted to compartmentalize, the truth is none of these issues begin or end at work. My growth around D&I as an HR professional is inextricably linked to my growth as a person, a wife and mother, and a member of my community.
As the world wrestled with privilege and white fragility over the summer of 2020 in the wake of George Floyd’s killing, the muscles I’d built here at Danaher were part of what allowed me to resist defensiveness and push myself to learn. They’re the same muscles, too, that I’m using to help my young sons understand their own responsibilities as they grow.
At both home and work, I hope sharing my journey will help others who are on journeys of their own—and I look for opportunities to actively encourage that growth, whether I’m sitting down with a young female associate on a path to leadership or serving as HR coach for our Latinx Associate Resource Group. Some of the leaders I work with are having conversations unlike any in their careers—and they’re pushing through the discomfort because they understand the value. In true Danaher form, they are dedicated to continuous improvement.
As in all things, accountability is key, and Danaher’s long-term goals include specific aspirations around representation. When we look at not just turnover, but turnover by demographic, for example, we create new opportunities to discuss D&I at every level of the organization—and every avenue for dialogue contributes to the progress we seek. Just as three women helped me recognize where I was falling short all those years ago, I believe an open and continuous conversation at Danaher can enable similar “aha moments” for every member of our team.