The old woman remembered a swan she had bought many years ago in Shanghai for a ridiculous sum. This bird, boasted the market vendor, was once a duck that stretched its neck in hopes of becoming a goose, and now look! — It is too beautiful to eat.

Then the woman and the swan sailed across an ocean many thousands of li wide, stretching their necks towards America. On her journey, she cooed to the swan: “In America I will have a daughter just like me. But over there nobody will say her worth is measured by the loudness of her husband’s belch. Over there nobody will look down on her, because I will make her speak only perfect American English. And over there she will always be too full to swallow any sorrow. She will know my meaning, because I will give her this swan– a creature that became more than was hoped for.”

But when she arrived at the new country, the immigration officials pulled her swan away from her, leaving the old woman fluttering her arms and with only one swan feather for a memory. And then she had to fill out so many forms she forgot why she had come and what she had left behind.

Now the woman was old. And she had a daughter who grew up speaking only English and swallowing more Coca-Cola than sorrow. For a long time now the woman had wanted to give her daughter the single feather and tell her, “This feather may look worthless, but it comes from afar and carries with it all my good intentions.” And she waited, year after year, for the day she could tell her daughter this in perfect American English.

– Amy Tan, The Joy Luck Club 

There’s a phrase I keep hearing over and over again here in Detroit. It reoccurs during community conversations, focus groups, and interviews as we discuss ways to increase collective engagement and improve access to lucrative occupations. Typically I hear the phrase when speaking with people from neighborhoods less touched by the renaissance occurring downtown:

“I don’t know how.”

One individual, responding to a question regarding her search for employment, stated “I don’t know how.” Another, when asked why he and his family didn’t interact more with available community resources while growing up replied, “we didn’t know how.” When asked why neighbors are hesitant to come together for a community event like a barbecue, the repeated response was “they don’t know how.”

Why is that? Why is a representative sample of our population barred from collective discourse due to lack of knowledge?

Our society is built on a complex system of implicit social codes that symbolize aptitude and dictate the way we interact. This cultural convention is accessible only to a few cryptographers who manage to absorb the jargon or those whose parents were endowed with social know-how. Venturing into the playing field as an aspirant comes with a cost: any faux pas typically results in rapid social relegation.

Does a crisp suit guarantee high IQ? Does a person’s word choice, phrasing, and intonation demonstrate their work ethic? Can we determine the value of an individual based on the ivory, cotton parchment they printed their resume on? Absolutely not. And yet, our actions are governed by strict social cues, first impressions, and learned etiquette. This discrepancy is problematic.

What if we lived in a society where every individual was encouraged to present their own unique culture and creativity? What if we embraced all appearances, accents, and backgrounds? What if our society ascribed value based on intrinsic characteristics, talents, and potential?

Perhaps then more people would be welcomed at the proverbial table. We wouldn’t need to know how — we would just be ourselves.