To Pimp a (Workplace) Trainer: The Limits of Anti-Racist Training in Organizational Culture

At Fearless Spaces, we believe in building brave, equity-rooted ecosystems where learning isn’t just an initiative—it’s a commitment. A commitment to transformation, to people, to nuance, and to truth-telling. A portion of our work includes designing and facilitating anti-racist trainings, training other trainers, and partnering with organizations to cultivate a culture of continuous learning.

But here’s something we’ve learned along the way: in too many spaces, trainers—particularly those holding marginalized identities—are not treated as catalysts for transformation, but as tools. Symbolic figures. Aesthetic proof that the organization “cares.”

This post isn’t an indictment of training itself, but an invitation to explore the conditions under which anti-racist trainers are often engaged—and misused.

When Training Becomes a Performance

Organizations often scramble to respond in moments of societal rupture—after a viral video, a hashtag, or a breaking news cycle. One of the fastest ways they attempt to signal alignment is by hiring an anti-racist trainer. But without an internal commitment to accountability and transformation, this hire becomes a band-aid, not a bridge.

Trainers are brought in to “clean up” after public harm or internal dysfunction. They’re asked to deliver one-off sessions that organizations treat like a vaccine: one dose, and suddenly the workplace is “healed.” We’ve watched organizations check boxes while refusing to check their own power.

And when the trainer is Black, Brown, queer, trans, disabled—or at the intersections—there’s an added expectation: be both the healer and the harmed. Be vulnerable enough to connect, but not so honest that you make people uncomfortable. Hold space for the collective while carrying your own internal calculus of what’s safe to say and what must be swallowed.

The Quiet Violence of Being Used

We see it all the time: a trainer is brought in because of their lived experience, but not trusted for their expertise. They’re tasked with facilitating conversations about power, privilege, and belonging—while receiving little power, minimal pay, and no long-term investment.

Many organizations separate curriculum design from facilitation, which isn’t inherently harmful—but often, the designers are shielded while facilitators are exposed. Facilitators become the face of the learning experience, absorbing the emotional labor, fielding defensiveness, holding trauma in real time—all without decision-making power, credit, or protection.

Good trainers are hard to come by. But instead of nurturing that rarity, organizations often hoard their presence without fully investing in them. They’re kept on call, not brought into leadership. They’re referenced, but not resourced.

The exploitation is subtle, but it’s real.

Let’s Talk About What Training Can Be

We’re not here to tear down the work of trainers—we are trainers. And we believe in the power of facilitated learning to shift culture. But anti-racist training only works when it’s part of a broader ecosystem of accountability, repair, and structural change.

If your training isn’t backed by a plan for change—policy review, internal audits, compensation equity, culture mapping, leadership coaching—then it’s not transformation, it’s performance.

Trainers should be collaborators, not contractors. They should be seen as strategic thought partners, not just gig workers. They should be paid for their labor, credited for their impact, and invited into the long-term visioning of the organization.

So, What Now?

If you’re an organizational leader reading this, ask yourself:

• Are we hiring this trainer because we’re ready to change, or because we want to look good?

• Are we creating space for them to challenge us, or expecting them to comfort us?

• Are we investing in their expertise, or extracting their identity?

And if you’re a trainer: protect your peace. Ask questions. Negotiate your worth. Choose alignment over access when you can.

At Fearless Spaces, we know this work is sacred. It’s not just about presentations—it’s about people. It’s about healing. It’s about unlearning harm and planting seeds for something more just.

Anti-racist training can be transformative—but only when we stop pimping out the people doing the work, and start building systems that honor their labor.

Let’s move beyond aesthetics, get real and be fearless.