In studying the effect of social connectedness and pain, Neuroscientist Matthew Lieberman reports that social pain is a real pain. Exclusion literally hurts.

Long before there were any primates with a neocortex, mammals split off from other vertebrates. They evolved the capacity to feel social pains and pleasures, forever linking our well-being to our social connectedness. Infants embody this deep need to stay connected, but it is present throughout our entire lives.

The effect of social pain is processed in the same regions of the brain as physical pain. You've heard people say, "They died of a broken heart." It's more than just a saying. Social disconnectedness manifests itself in the form of actual pain.

If I were to ask you to describe the most painful experience of your life, you would likely tell me about the experience of losing a loved one versus a physical pain like a broken arm, for example. If you're still not convinced social disconnectedness hurts, Lieberman's research suggests the following, "Tylenol makes the effects of social exclusion go away. The same pain killer that you take for your headache can help with your heartache, too."

Social pain is a real pain, and it's experienced when people are excluded.

Because we're wired for social connection, we'll take extreme measures to avoid exclusion and maintain group cohesion. I'll prove it in two words - peer pressure. Our need to belong and hedge against being outcast is a powerful influencer over our behavior.

The topic of belonging always makes me think of Al Green’s wisdom in the song Love and Happiness.

“Something that can make you do wrong - make you do right.”

Our physiological need to belong works in the same way. By excluding others I’m more excepted by my “tribe”, which justifies exclusion and makes it feel right. Think about it, some of our social circles are defined by the extent to which we think alike and exclude others. We find belonging through exclusion.

Here's how belonging, exclusion, love and happiness played out in the life of one of my clients, Mia. She is a powerful, young, talented black executive who was recruited to join the senior leadership team at a prestigious firm. It was her dream job, and she was beyond excited about the new gig.

Only two weeks into the job, she attended one of their award galas. All of the "bigwigs" were there, the senior leadership team, VIP customers, anyone with clout at this firm was in attendance. She was flawless from head to toe, confident, and prepared to make a remarkable first impression.

She strolled into the party with her chin up, gown flowing, and found her way to the bar. Mia ordered a dirty martini but didn't realize she was standing next to three of her peers. The Chief Legal Counsel, who also ordered a dirty martini (he had a few already by then), leans over and says, "You like dirty martinis too? Your approval rating just went from a three to a six." The moment deflated her. They chuckled and walked off.

For the rest of the night, her energy was artificial. Her goal shifted from enjoying herself to surviving and proving her worth. What did she do to earn such a low approval rating? She had just started at the company; they didn't know her character, capabilities, or potential.

They knew only one thing; she was different.

Were they inherently evil or mean? No. They were well-respected, funny, and likable guys. But, thanks to snap judgments and stereotyping, they didn't have to know her. Their biases informed their perception of her. That moment armed her with the intel she needed to navigate the political landscape from a position outside the in-group.

She spent the remainder of her time at the firm striving for success by compensating for her peer's biases, over performing to gain trust, cooperation, and acceptance. She was determined to earn respect and a rightful place within the dominant group.

But, despite how well she performed, she couldn't penetrate their trusted circle.

She explained to me that, after a few years, she stopped trying so hard. She accepted that being even more different sealed her fate in the out-group. Her performance was never good enough because her peers viewed her through the lens of being too different. Evidence that she was a high performer didn't matter to them.

Fatigued and disappointed, she leaned back, and her disengagement cost in many ways - loss of potential innovation, lack of ROI on a highly paid yet disengaged employee, and lackluster productivity.

Many non-dominants report similar experiences in which they lean back, disengage, or quit as tactics to cope with the social pain of being excluded.

“Isolation is a stressful state for both your body and brain, especially when you sense that you're being rejected or judged; your body reads it as a dangerous situation...At these times, your body doesn't have the interest in or energy for building new synaptic connections for learning. It's simply busy saving itself."
Amy Banks, Wired to Connect

In time, Mia realized that the value she could add was limited without sufficient power or influence. Disengaging to reduce the social pain of exclusion cost her reputation. The damage was done and the writing was on the wall, so she resigned and moved on to a new firm.

Mia refused to allow her previous experience to diminish her self-worth. She believed in herself and chose not to feel victimized.

She thrived in her new environment and credits being in a workplace that genuinely expected authenticity. At the previous firm, she felt pressure to assimilate with the dominants in order to be accepted and included. This new, inclusive workplace provided her safety and latitude to take risks, speak up, and be authentically different, which paid off in dividends for the company and Mia's well-being.

Ironically, after Mia left her previous firm, she found out that her former boss suspected she would have an unfair experience due to being different.

So much so, after she accepted his offer to join the firm, he called a special meeting to prepare his team for her arrival. He explained that she was different, and he expected them to be welcoming and inclusive. Like many leaders, the new team was initially committed to being inclusive, but their commitment wasn’t enough to create behavior change.

Motivation alone isn't enough to sustain change, habits must be formed for inclusion to stick.