Are we a family?

Any organization that designs a system (defined broadly) will produce a design whose structure is a copy of the organization's communication structure.
— Melvin E. Conway

Not a day goes by without me iterating this quote to myself. I've heard terms like "culture fit" and "family" far too often in my professional experience. And they're all, well, framed deceptive lies.

Family is, often times, a bunch of people we're biologically related to—some good, many complicated, a few outright toxic. Given a choice, many of us would rather shuffle our families like a deck of cards. Yet here we are, in conference rooms, being told we're "one big family" by people who will lay us off via Zoom the moment quarterly numbers dip.

Let's talk about what families actually look like. Real families excel at emotional manipulation —"After all I've done for you..." becomes "After all the company has invested in you..." Same energy, different setting. Every family has a golden child who can do no wrong while the rest fight for scraps of validation. At work, it's the person who gets credit for your ideas while you're told you're "not ready for leadership yet."

Families are notorious for passive-aggressive notes on the fridge and decades-long silent treatments. Offices have vague Slack messages, the dreaded "per my last email," and managers who'll mention your underperformance only during annual reviews. And every family has secrets they don't talk about—just like the harassment case everyone knows about but HR won't touch, or the VP who's clearly incompetent but untouchable.

Here's the uncomfortable truth: the ideal family, whether at work or home, is a myth we've collectively agreed to chase like a mirage. We fantasize about families where everyone communicates openly, supports unconditionally, celebrates without jealousy, and resolves conflicts with grace. We've seen it in sitcoms, read about it in self-help books, but definitely never experienced it for more than a few consecutive hours.

Show me a company that claims to be "one big family" and I'll show you mandatory team-building events on your personal time, siblings competing for limited promotions, parents playing favorites and gaslighting you, and leaving being treated as betrayal rather than a career decision.

Here's the radical thought: we don't need to be a family to show care, respect, and cultivate a grow-and-let-grow culture. In fact, aspiring to be a family is precisely what's holding us back. What if we aimed for professional respect instead? Where I respect your expertise, you respect mine, and we don't need to know each other's childhood traumas. Where boundaries actually exist—my weekend is mine, your evening is yours. Where you can quit without facing "How could you do this to us?" Where we celebrate individual journeys without resentment, seeing each other as travelers on the same road for a while.

We don't need to be surrounded by family. We need a few individuals—maybe two, maybe five—who respect your time as finite, celebrate your wins genuinely, tell you uncomfortable truths, and let you grow even if that takes you away from them. These people might become friends or remain acquaintances, but they're worth more than a hundred "family members" who drain you in the name of belonging.

Conway was right. Organizations that force family dynamics will create all the dysfunctions of family: favoritism, guilt, unclear boundaries, emotional manipulation. They'll produce teams that look like Thanksgiving dinner where everyone's smiling through gritted teeth. Organizations that embrace professional respect will create systems where people can breathe, contribute, and leave without burning bridges or souls.

So the next time someone tells you "we're like a family here," hear what they're really saying: "We expect you to sacrifice boundaries, accept dysfunction as normal, and feel guilty for having ambitions." You already have a family. You don't need another one. What you need is a workplace that respects you enough to not pretend to be one.

We don't need to be a family to show care. We need to be humans who've learned that respect, boundaries, and individual growth are worth more than any forced sense of belonging. The dream isn't finding the perfect family—it's finding the courage to stop looking for one.