Picture me. A tech-head working in technology complaining about mental health. Attaining my bachelor's degree in 3.5 years magna cum laude with honors, internships galore, followed up by a master's that opened an even bigger world for me. A diligent individual that from afar was seemingly handed jobs left and right, and when opportunities weren’t given, I made them. I launched my first business when I was 20-years-old, and my second at 25-years-old. From the outside it looked like, I shouldn’t even raise my voice to disagree with the status quo.

Now picture me again. A young, black, queer, female working in technology. At my first real job in tech, I was told “You know… you have five things working against you — you’re young, black, gay, female and working in technology.”  There was no forward to this conversation, it just happened. This is a regular day, two individuals fixing their morning coffee in the office kitchen. I think my heart skipped a beat, but with all of those accolades I was given — I probably awkwardly say “Oh. Wow. Thanks” and walked away. Any minority knows that I didn’t ask for this conversation, it just happened. Additionally, any minority knows that if that was taken to a boss in the early 2000s, it meant nothing and it was just words.

Fast forward years later, a colleague casually told me that our boss shared with the team that she suspected “I worked paycheck to paycheck.” This manager had never seen an ounce of my private life besides the clothes on my back, and perhaps my alcoholic beverage of choice. Additionally, not that I need to share this, but I’ve never worked paycheck to paycheck and made a name for myself early on that I’m proud of. However, if I did meet this stereotype given to me, why would it matter in the workforce?

Fast forward to several years later, during my first few weeks on the job at my dream company, I was kindly asked out to lunch by a fellow manager. Nice, right? Getting to know new faces and personalities, lunch was gladly welcomed in my heart. We began walking towards our lunch spot and with little conversation, I was abruptly informed that “I never saw a black person until I was 13. My family is still racist sometimes, and laugh at people on TV, like you know… the ones with chinky eyes.”  Imagine me, a fellow leader of the company, brand spanking new and now I’m the sole representation of all minorities.

I sat in a leadership boardroom and declined receiving significant bonus rewards for hiring minorities. I did this for several reasons, but one of many being that the only minorities that walked in for interviews, seemingly had to pass a skin test or talk without their cultural identities. I also did this because to be quite frank, upselling the amount of money to hire more minorities felt like modern-day slavery. If we built companies built on respect and equality, we wouldn’t have double the reward to win “Most Diverse Companies to Work for in 2018.”

Want to hear a microaggression?

• Employee: “We have a new C-level executive, his name is Muhammad*. Where does that come from? Eygpt?” / Team: “Laughs.”
• Employee: “For diversity week, we should just cook a bunch of different meats.” / Team: “Laughs”
• Employee: “You’ve worked with us for so long, your hair is now straight.”
• Employee: “This is a nice car. Is it a lease or rental?”

I hope that now you picture me, as me. Not just a female, but the young, black, gay, female working in technology. I hope that you also begin to see others that look like me that are facing the same or similar challenges. Shortly after, I wasn’t myself anymore and began to feel inferior and underestimated. Additionally, how many times do I have to share that I worked my butt off to be here because colleagues keep asking about my accolades aka “how did you get here, ma’am.”

I developed horrible unconscious habits that I was embarrassed about and I couldn’t bring myself to point out every discrepancy that occurred. At this point, you’d definitely say “Brittany, why wouldn’t you just talked to your manager or someone higher.” And I’d easily reply — already done. One manager felt horrible about the events happening but had little control. Perhaps the most painful part was glorifying so-called leaders that really broke people down. I had frequent 1:1’s or meetings where I shared that I would not stand for disrespect and being treated differently from other leaders due to my race, gender, and sexual orientation. They obliged, perhaps provided me with time off to clear my head and expected to accept the same inexcusable actions.

“Between microaggressions, outright abuse, disrespect, our downright volatile sociopolitical climate, and potential mental health issues, Black women are constantly expected to shoulder so much weight that is emotionally, physically, psychologically, spiritually, and even financially draining. And we still demand their emotional labor.” — Black Youth Project

In these moments, I constantly had to choose faith over fear while also promising myself that I’d change the world that other young, black, queer, females in technology would have to endure. And that is the primary reason I refused to help hire more minorities, for up to $20k in return, to work in an environment that would kill their identities and sense of self. I believe in a much greater America than this.

I recall after meetings that manifested issues as discussed, I would bow my head down and meditate. I would take walks to process myself, and my environment. At the time, African-Americans were being killed every other week without scrutiny and no one in the workplace dared to talk about it. How could I see my people dying without cause and not think of every microaggression targeted at me? How could I walk into work with my excuse for being late being, “A police officer followed me for 15 minutes straight, and I too, was terrified and nervous?” I mean that’s what I wish I could say without explanation and hoped my colleagues would get it without me having to break down my blackness, but I knew they’d look at me like I was crazy because that world or risk doesn’t exist for them. When you’re a person of color and a cop follows you for fifteen minutes straight; you’re nervous and scared, even when you’ve done nothing wrong, and you try to act as normal as possible. So normal that you’re actually abnormal, awkward — and even more awkward. Now, practice this anxiety every day.

I grew tired of saying I was doing great when I wasn’t. I wanted to share, “I’m sad. I’m scared. My people are being killed, and you’re questioning whether I have what it takes to do my job.” Twelve years into my career and most people don’t acknowledge my accolades, they immediately see the stereotypes of my gender, my race and any other marginalized identities I represent. They instead wonder how I got here and question whether I deserve to be in this arena. And thirty years into my life, having to explain why I would be hurt over a protest happening 30 miles from me.

I am a young (or once was), black, queer, female in technology, and I love it. I work just as hard as the next woman that only gets the title female. But I’ve often had to work harder, speak louder, and partially tuck away part of me to exist in corporate America.

See, here is the truth:

• I, as well as other minorities, are aware of micro-aggressions and because of that, I am able to live a happy life with mental health being a primary focus.
• At 30-years-old, I know who I am and that I am still evolving. I also know that my colleagues are doing the same, however, I am not responsible for those who continue to choose ignorance over inclusion.
• I, as well as other minorities, are not and do not want to be your “token black friend”. My terminology, musical selections, attire should not additionally define me.
• As a majority, it is okay to discuss your varying perspectives with minorities (of any background), but it is important to have empathic conversations to understand, not to create more barriers. The conversation isn’t around who is right vs. who is wrong, but understanding the mental health challenges that we all face in some dimension.
• Other countries laugh at America for many reasons, but one of those reasons is because only Americans see color and differences as negative. For example, I’m only black in America. When visiting other countries who hold us higher than we hold ourselves, I’m simply an American.

Diversity and inclusion are important for many reasons, and without them, we remain one-dimensional. We only know the world we live in, and due to that, we’re limited to those boundaries. We’ve all heard “walk a day in someone else’s shoes before judging,” but after being corrected, and after walking a day in someone else’s shoes, we are socially responsible for the lessons we gain through those experiences.

To my fellow minorities, we exist in this race and we are seen. We are evolving, we are becoming. Perhaps not at the most ideal times, but our presence and our voices are heard. And most importantly, we define and refine ourselves. So I am that young, black, gay, female working in technology, but that isn’t working against me — it’s working for me. With a firm and daily commitment to my mental health, I promise to build ethical people and healthy systems with everything I touch. I promise to continue pointing out red flags that have sent our past generations through mental breakdowns, or cost them their future.

My experiences could have cost me a lot more, but I knew how to recognize the signs and use it as a foundation. If you’ve been here, I encourage you to seek a therapist that can help you unfold the details and meaning so that you can move forward.