Had another meeting today where i was the only black face. Again. You think youd get used to it but you never do. Theres this hyperawareness that never goes away. Every word i say is measured twice. Every opinion i share could confirm their biases or challenge them. The pressure to represent my entire race in a room full of white people who have the luxury of just representing themselves.
Someone made a comment about "urban culture" and everyone looked at me. Like i should explain it. Like i speak for all black people everywhere. I smiled and deflected but inside i was screaming. Im not your diversity consultant. Im not here to educate you on why that phrase is problematic. Im here to do my job. But being black means your job always includes an unpaid second role as the diversity spokesperson.
The microagressions are constant. "Youre so articulate" someone said after my presentation. What did you expect? That id communicate in grunts? The compliments that arent really compliments. The questions about my hair. The assumptions about where im from. The surprise when i mention my university degree. Death by a thousand cuts. Each one small enough to seem petty if i complain. But together they create this suffocating weight.
Im exhausted from code switching. The way i talk at work vs how i talk with my family. The way i dress, the music i reference, the parts of myself i hide to make white people comfortable. At work im palatable black. Non threatening. Assimilated enough to fit in but black enough to fill their diversity quota. Its a performance. An exhausting, soul crushing performance.
My white colleagues complain about work stress and i nod along. But they dont have my stress. They dont wonder if they got the promotion because of merit or diversity targets. They dont question if that critique was valid or racially motivated. They dont go home and decompress from simply existing in a space that wasnt built for them.
Sometimes i think about quitting. Finding a company with more diversity. But then i remember thats running from a problem that exists everywhere. And maybe if i stay, if i succeed, i can be the person i needed when i started. The senior black person who makes it easier for the next one. But that shouldnt be my responsibility. I shouldnt have to sacrifice my mental health to pave the way.
Had a moment today where i forgot i was the only black person. Was just talking, being myself, laughing at something. Then i looked around and remembered. Saw the subtle surprise on some faces. Like they forgot too. Like they dont expect black people to just be normal and funny and relatable. That moment of disconnect hurt. The reminder that no matter how much i achieve, how hard i work, how integrated i become, im still seen as other.
My parents are so proud of me. They sacrificed everything so i could have opportunities they never had. How do i tell them that those opportunities come with a price? That success in white spaces means fragmenting yourself? That im not sure how much longer i can do this without losing who i am?
Imposter syndrome hits different when youre black. Its not just "am i good enough". Its "am i only here because of my race?" The constant questioning. The knowledge that some people believe you dont deserve your seat at the table. That every mistake is amplified because it confirms their suspicions about diversity hires.
I had to correct someone today who attributed my colleagues idea to me. This happens more than people realize. In meetings im either invisible or hypervisible. Either ignored or put on the spot. Theres no comfortable middle ground. And when i speak up for myself, im aggressive. When i stay quiet, im not a team player. Cant win.
The mental gymnastics of navigating race at work are exhausting. Knowing when to address racism and when to let it slide. Calculating the cost of speaking up vs the cost of silence. Building alliances with white colleagues who might defend you. Being careful not to seem too friendly with the other few minorities or youll be accused of cliquishness.
I joined the diversity committee because someone had to. Because if we dont advocate for ourselves, nobody will. But now i have extra unpaid labor on top of my actual job. Planning events, reviewing policies, educating people who should educate themselves. All while trying to climb the corporate ladder like everyone else. Except everyone else doesnt have these additional hurdles.
Theres a special kind of loneliness in being the only one. The isolation of not having anyone who gets it without explanation. Of watching your white colleagues bond over experiences you cant relate to. Of being invited to social events but feeling like a mascot. Included but not belonging.
I wonder what it would feel like to just exist without this constant awareness. To walk into a room and not immediately calculate my level of otherness. To make a mistake and have it be just a mistake, not a reflection of my entire race. To be mediocre if i wanted and not excellent as survival strategy.
Sometimes i look at myself in the mirror and dont know who i see. Am i the person i pretend to be at work? Or am i the person i am with my family? Can i be both? Or has code switching for so long meant ive lost touch with my authentic self? Who am i when im not performing for white comfort?
The success feels hollow sometimes. The money, the title, the respect. It all comes with this lingering question - at what cost? What parts of myself did i sacrifice to get here? And is it worth it?
But then i think about my ancestors. About what they survived. About the doors they kicked open so i could walk through. About the literal fights for the opportunity to even be in these spaces. And i keep going. Not for the company. Not for the money. But because my presence here matters. Because visibility matters. Because maybe the person after me will have it slightly easier.
Im tired though. So deeply tired. Tired of being strong. Tired of educating. Tired of code switching. Tired of proving i belong. Tired of carrying the weight of representation. Just tired.
Tomorrow ill put on my work persona again. Smile. Be articulate. Make everyone comfortable. But tonight im just tired. And sad. And wondering if itll ever get easier. If ill ever just get to be a person doing a job instead of a black person doing a job.
I know im not alone in feeling this. That somewhere another black person in a white space is feeling the exact same exhaustion. That collective experience should be comforting. But mostly it just makes me sadder. That this is so common we all know exactly what it feels like.
Maybe one day itll be different. Maybe one day the next generation wont have to write entries like this. Maybe one day being the only one wont be such a heavy burden to carry. But until then, we carry it. Because someone has to. Because we refuse to give up the space we fought to occupy.
Just wish it didnt hurt so much. We