The weight of the “only”
I know it well. I walk into boardroom after boardroom and my eyes involuntary scan the room. Looking for someone who looks like me. Nope! I’m the only one.
Okay Lauren, you know the drill. They are probably all wondering why you were sent, so prove to them that you belong here.
Big smiles. Be friendly, but not too friendly. You don’t want to feed into any hidden desires they have about “exotic looking” women. Be assertive, but not too aggressive. You don’t want to reinforce the reason why they don’t let too many like you in the rooms to begin with. You aren’t just here for you. You are here for all women of color. F*ck this up, and you will be the reason why others don’t get a chance. Nail it, and they may start to rethink their biases and assumptions about that woman of color who keeps getting overlooked for promotions.
Rinse. Wash. Repeat. Multiple times a day. Every. Single. Day.
30% of my energy is expelled just by walking into the room. That’s before I even get to the 100% of energy that’s required to do “the job” effectively. A job I can do but don’t want to do.
But effective isn’t enough. As people of color, we’ve all received some version of “the talk” that told us it’s not enough. You have to be twice as smart, twice as hard working, and twice as articulate because your starting line is further back. So no, effective isn’t going to land me in a VP position where just by me being there, I’ve instantly raised the glass ceiling for other women of color. For my own daughter. See…it CAN be done.
But hey. Par for the course, right? I mean, the fact that I’m even in the room means that I don’t have the right to complain or be tired. The right to want to do something that makes me happy because remember…this isn’t about ME!
I’ll bear this weight so that my daughter doesn’t have to, the way that my parents carried the weight of doing jobs that they didn’t love but would ensure a better life for my sister and I, and their parents before that, and before that, and before that.
“So, kids,” I ask my 9-year-old daughter and 11-year-old son, “what do you want to be when you grow up?”
My daughter responds, “I really want to be one of those home designers you see on television, but I know that only white women get those jobs”
My son follows with, “I want to be a YouTuber, but my plan is to hide my identity for as long as possible because black YouTubers aren’t as successful”
This. Isn’t. It.
They aren’t supposed to have this narrative. They aren’t supposed to have limiting beliefs based on the color of their skin. They are supposed to believe that they can be anything they want to be. Do anything they want to do. But how can they believe that, when they weren’t seeing it from me?
I’m repeating the pattern: do what they allow you to do, not what you want to do. Be grateful to be invited to sit at their table.
I decided last year. F*ck that. I’m making my own table!
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