The Myth of the Ideal Worker: How Bias Is Built Into Our Definitions of Excellence
A Venekai Perspective on Performance, Power and Possibility
Written By Lisa Shoko
Who gets to be seen as excellent? And who gets labelled a “problem”—no matter how capable they are?
In most organisations, excellence is framed as a clear, objective set of behaviours: being dependable, performing consistently, adapting quickly, managing stress, and showing leadership potential. But behind this veneer of neutrality is a more complex—and more uncomfortable—truth.
The ideal worker is a myth.
And like most myths, it’s sustained through repetition, not fact.
This myth shows up in performance reviews, progression frameworks, leadership development, and informal conversations about who is “ready” or “right” for advancement. It’s embedded in HR systems and capability procedures, shaping decisions about who is supported, who is monitored, and who is quietly exited.
And because this ideal is rarely interrogated, it disproportionately harms people who live at the intersections of race, gender, class, disability, and other protected characteristics.
This Isn’t Just About Politics—It’s About Process
It’s easy to talk about inclusion when things are going well. But the real test of equity is how people are treated when they’re under pressure, facing challenges, or no longer conforming to what the organisation finds most comfortable.
In our work, we’ve seen how capability processes, absence procedures, and performance management frameworks are used—sometimes subtly, sometimes overtly—to remove people who don’t fit the unspoken ideal. What makes this especially harmful is that these processes are usually presented as neutral, fair, and legally sound.
But here’s the problem: the bar for “fair” is often shaped by power, not equity.
Let’s be specific:
A racialised staff member who speaks up about inequity is framed as “negative” or “too emotional.”
A disabled person asking for reasonable adjustments is told they’re “not coping.”
A neurodivergent employee is performance-managed for communication styles that don’t align with the team norm.
A working-class or migrant colleague is told their tone or writing style is “unprofessional” or “off-brand.”
A Black woman expressing frustration about poor treatment is labelled “combative,” while a white colleague is praised for being “forthright.”
In each of these examples, the person becomes the problem—rather than the culture, the line management, or the structure they’re trying to survive in.
The Ideal Is a Mirror of Power
What we call “high performance” often mirrors the preferences of those in positions of power:
Confident, but not emotional
Visible, but not disruptive
Available, but with no visible caregiving responsibilities
Strategic, but aligned with dominant perspectives
This model of the ideal worker rewards proximity to whiteness, masculinity, able-bodiedness, neurotypicality, and middle-class norms. It punishes divergence, even when that divergence is not only valid—but valuable.
The myth functions by defining the problem as the individual, rather than the system. So instead of questioning whether the environment is inaccessible, biased, or exclusionary, organisations ask: Why isn’t this person performing in the way we expect?
That question, when unexamined, becomes dangerous. It turns into formal processes. It feeds capability reviews. It isolates and exhausts people already carrying additional burdens. It’s how exclusion is operationalised.
The Culture Fit Trap
This dynamic is especially visible in how organisations talk about “culture fit.”
On the surface, the idea sounds harmless—even positive. Organisations want people who align with their values. But in practice, culture fit often becomes shorthand for familiarity, comfort, and sameness.
It reinforces unspoken norms about how people should dress, speak, think, and interact. It privileges those who reflect the dominant group—often white, middle-class, neurotypical, able-bodied, cishet norms—and sidelines those who bring difference, challenge, or lived experience.
We see this when:
A Black colleague is told they’re “not the right fit for this team.”
A neurodivergent candidate is considered “too intense” or “too quiet.”
A disabled staff member is described as “a great person but just not fitting in with the energy of the group.”
What’s really being said is: you don’t behave like us, and that makes us uncomfortable.
In these cases, “culture fit” is not a measure of alignment—it’s a tool of exclusion. And it’s a way for organisations to offload responsibility for inclusion by individualising the problem.
How Organisations Distance Themselves from Accountability
When someone raises issues of racism, ableism, or structural bias in their appraisal or performance conversation, the most common response we hear is:
“This is a separate issue—we’re just talking about your performance.”
But here’s the truth: it’s never just about performance.
Performance happens within systems. And those systems are shaped by power. If a staff member is consistently undervalued, excluded, or penalised for behaviours others are praised for, then their “performance” cannot be divorced from the structural conditions they’re working in.
So when equity concerns are raised, or when a person doesn’t conform to what’s deemed “appropriate,” organisations often lean on vague, unmeasurable concepts like culture fit or team dynamic. That language is then used to justify performance management or informal exclusion.
This is how organisations remove themselves from the equation.
The message becomes: “It’s not us. It’s you. You just don’t fit.”
But if a culture only fits those who conform to dominance, then it isn’t inclusive. It’s curated.
Rebuilding: What Equity-Led Performance and Capability Should Look Like
We’re not saying that organisations shouldn’t hold people accountable. But accountability must go both ways.
An equity-led approach to capability, performance, and leadership would ask:
Are we applying standards consistently—and in ways that acknowledge difference, not punish it?
Have we explored environmental, cultural or relational barriers before launching formal action?
Is the person’s identity playing a role in how their behaviour is perceived or recorded?
Are we mistaking discomfort for disruption—and responding with discipline rather than curiosity?
Here’s what that looks like in practice:
1. Interrogate Informal Standards
Challenge vague language like “not a good fit,” “not leadership material,” or “unprofessional.” Ask what those terms really mean—and who they favour.
Replace “culture fit” with “values alignment” or “culture add”—language that encourages diversity of thought, background, and lived experience, rather than penalising difference.
2. Reframe Capability as a Systemic Conversation
Before entering formal processes, review what support has been offered, who made those decisions, and whether patterns of exclusion exist elsewhere in the team or directorate.
3. Centre Lived Experience in Your Risk Assessment
If someone raises racism, ableism, or other systemic concerns, they are not “deflecting.” They are naming their context. Make it part of the performance conversation—not an afterthought.
4. Train Line Managers in Bias and Power, Not Just Policy
Managers need to understand how identity shapes perception, power and interaction—not just how to fill out a form. Without that, equity collapses under legal compliance.
5. Track Organisational Patterns
If the only people going through performance procedures are disabled staff, Black women, or part-time carers, you don’t have a performance problem—you have a culture problem.
Conclusion: Refusing the Myth, Reclaiming Power
The ‘ideal worker’ is a fiction—a tool of conformity designed to uphold systems of dominance under the guise of professionalism. It was never built for everyone. And it was certainly never meant to centre equity, justice, or truth.
So instead of helping people survive within these standards, we need to dismantle them.
We need to refuse the idea that success must be earned through proximity to whiteness, masculinity, able-bodiedness, or class privilege. We need to challenge the false binary between excellence and equity—and build new measures of impact, intelligence, and leadership rooted in relational, collective, and liberatory practice.
This isn’t just about visibility or voice. It’s about power.
It’s about disrupting the narratives that tell marginalised people they need to be exceptional just to be seen as competent. It’s about resisting the idea that our humanity must be translated into palatable metrics before it’s valued.
At Venekai, we are not here to help organisations tweak the margins of exclusion. We are here to name the structures, shift the power, and rebuild the conditions.
Excellence without equity is exploitation.
Performance without justice is performative.
It’s time to decide: will we keep rewarding sameness—or will we start making room for the fullness of who people are?
The myth has served its purpose. Now, we reimagine.
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