Last month, I attended what was supposed to be an "industry-specific workshop" for experience designers. The event description promised deep insights, targeted networking, and conversations specific to our field.
What I got instead was a room full of college students, tech recruiters, marketing generalists, and even a couple of real estate agents who thought "experience design" meant staging homes.
The host had been afraid to turn anyone away. So instead of the specialized conversation I came for, we spent four hours skimming the surfaceâexplaining basic concepts to newcomers while the actual practitioners tried not to make eye contact with each other.
Nobody got what they needed.
Not the students (who were lost), not the adjacent professionals (who were bored), and certainly not the people who matched the original description (who were frustrated). All because someone was afraid to exclude.
We've villainized exclusion so thoroughly that we've forgotten something crucial: boundaries create meaning.
The Fear of Saying No
Most of us would rather have a tooth pulled than tell someone they can't come. We're afraid of:
- Looking elitist or unwelcoming
- Getting called out publicly
- The administrative headache of enforcing criteria
- Losing revenue from potential customers
- Hurting feelings
But this fear leads to what Priya Parker calls "the terrible middleware of gatherings" in her book on the subject: events and communities so watered down they serve no one.
I see this in practice all the time. The writing workshop that accepts anyone with a pulse. The fitness class that claims to be "for all levels" and subsequently challenges no one. The spiritual discussion that tries to honor every possible tradition and ends up devoid of substance.
When everything is for everyone, nothing is for anyone.
Boundaries Create Value
Exclusion isn't the ugly part of gatheringâit's the backbone.
Think of the most meaningful groups you've been part of. Whether it's a high-performing team, a tight-knit community, or even a compelling school environmentâwhat made it special?
I'd bet money that clear boundaries were involved.
This was evident in HBR's study on community building that found the most resilient communities weren't the most inclusiveâthey were the ones with the clearest sense of shared purpose and standards.
The CrossFit gym that unapologetically requires a baseline of fitness and commitment.
The writer's retreat that only accepts practicing professionals.
The mastermind that requires members to be at a specific revenue threshold.
These aren't acts of elitismâthey're acts of clarity.
When I launched my community for dance professionals, I turned away beginning dancers. Not because they weren't valuable people, but because their inclusion would have fundamentally changed the conversations happening in the spaceâfrom professional challenges to beginner questions.
The "Why Are We Gathering?" Question
The single most important question for any gatheringâwhether it's a business, a community, or a one-time eventâis "why are we gathering?" And this requires a ruthless level of specificity.
Priya Parker explains this perfectly: "Specificity is a crucial ingredient. The more focused your gathering, the more narrowly you frame it, the more likely you are to get what you're looking for."
Consider how often this goes wrong:
A "brainstorming session" that's actually about the boss getting validation for ideas they've already decided on.
A "community discussion" that's really about pushing an agenda.
That graduation ceremony that claims to celebrate students but prioritizes donor relationships and speeches thanking administrators.
The misalignment between stated purpose and actual design creates a trust deficit. People sense the dissonance even if they can't articulate it.
The Hidden Costs of False Inclusion
Beyond the immediate disappointment of diluted experiences, there are deeper costs to pretending to be for everyone:
Trust Erosion: When people show up expecting one thing and get another, they feel misled. This damages future engagement. I once attended an event here in Boston that was described as "curated, invite only event for the startup scene's most prolific thinkers".
It was one of the most aimless, mediocre events I've ever attended. I left after 45 minutes. And I will never go back.
Resource Waste: Trying to please everyone means spreading resources too thin. This is why restaurants with 20-page menus rarely excel at any single dish.
Decision Paralysis: Groups without clear boundaries spend excessive time and energy on meta-discussions about who and what they are.
Organizational Drift: Without clear exclusion principles, missions expand endlessly, pulling focus from core strengths.
This is what happened to WeWork, which started with a clear focus on coworking spaces but eventually tried to be everything from a residential real estate company to an education provider to a wave pool operator. The refusal to exclude possible directions led to a spectacular collapse.
How to Exclude with Purpose
So how do you practice purposeful exclusion without being a jerk? A few principles I've learned:
1. Get specific about your "who" Before launching anything, write down who it's explicitly NOT for. This isn't about being meanâit's about being clear. At Wondry, we explicitly state that our services aren't for businesses looking for quick fixes or surface-level community engagement.
2. Communicate boundaries with respect Exclusion doesn't have to be dismissive. When someone's not a fit, point them to resources better suited to their needs. When I turn away potential clients looking for basic social media management, I point them to excellent freelance platforms.
3. Design for your core, not your edge cases Too many experiences get watered down by trying to accommodate every possible exception. Design for your ideal participants, not for those at the margins.
4. Hold the line The moment you make an exception to your exclusion principles, you've told everyone those principles don't actually matter. Be prepared for pushback and have your "why" ready.
The Relief of Clarity
The strange truth about boundaries is that they don't just benefit those inside themâthey also benefit those who are excluded.
The next time you find yourself afraid to exclude, remember: by trying to be for everyone, you end up being for no one. The generosity lies not in lowering your boundaries, but in making them clear enough that people can respect them.
Exclusion isn't a dirty word. It's the foundation of impact.
Onward,
April
