What am I to think of myself now that I’ve failed at my job to the point of termination? Accept the workplace setting’s perception of me? Hide while frantically searching for another job where I have to perform niceness and likability to people who only seem concerned with surface level endeavor? a demeanor so far outside of the scope of my authenticity I worry about being driven to madness or an autoimmune disease. societal pressures say that I should feel like a failure for not measuring up to standards created explicitly to exclude someone like me.
In my moments of uncertainty I think about the women who inspire me and what they chose for their careers. Toni Morrison wrote books while raising her children, editing for others and teaching at Howard university. Zora Neal Hurston traveled the southern United states and Caribbean capturing the stories of black folks so I could know what their lives were like today. Anna Julia Cooper theorized about the intersections of blackness and womanhood and what we could do to cement our legacy in American history. Surely knowing about their lives can help inspire me to follow a more meaningful purpose in life despite not being backed by corporate or academic sponsorship.
I wrote part of this piece on the 25th floor patio of my former employer’s new office, legs stretched over a wood lounge chaise. I sun bathed in a sparkly houndstooth midi dress and silver loafers, a clear view of Mt. Rainier. I would get the news the next day that I was terminated. with a deep belief in living audacious, authentic and carefree I can see exactly how I came off to my colleagues as disingenuous, nonchalant and lacking urgency in a corporate setting. For the past 3 years I struggled with the character I wanted to play in the corporate game. Do I care about masking and refusing to pretend the mass disabling event is over? How do I look covering my hair while I explore whether I wanted take back up my belief in Christianity and protect my sisterlocs from the cold dry Washington state air? If I’d had an abundance of options I would have never chosen to move away from the only community I’d known but this is the reality of being from a working class background. I’m the first in my family to have access to coveted tech roles. And with all that being said the position I held with my previous employer was someone else’s dream job, not mine.
The farce of having to pretend I cared about selling products made me look crazy, I’m sure. The confines of professionalism have always been incongruent with the core of my self expression. I remember the saying that employees were to leave their personal problems at the door and pick them back up when we clock out. As a highly sensitive person with depth, human curiosity and empathy I learned to pretend I didn’t have a life outside of employment. A flat vessel lacking dimensions, a proverbial paper bag presumed impervious to the things happening to or around it. Employer expectations changed though with Obama as president for a second term and diversity, equity and inclusion initiative benefits trickling down to black college graduates. the concept of community at work emerged, a concerted effort at bonding with the strangers you spend most of the hours in a week with.
So much of the perception of me in the corporate space, I was told, was me being hard to read. And with that I was deemed untrustworthy, capable of some ominous offense they couldn’t quite conceptualize. If I were given grace or genuine curiosity about my personhood and experiences my colleagues would find out that I’ve been no contact with my family for 10 years and without close friends for 5. I spend most of my time alone, on social media, dating or going out alone talking to the few acquaintances or strangers interested in sharing the moment. The colleagues I was in proximity to required me to bid for community in a way that hinged on my adherence to *their* way of performing. And that is not a sincere way of embracing those who don’t operate in the same ways as the collective. My inconspicuous presence threatened their norms and was met with dubiousness.
There is so much more out in the world for me than sitting in an office 3 days a week and being confined to my home the other two. While tragedy unfolds across the globe I’m expected to arrive to work on time, happy and with an astute focus on selling physical products that often get dumped into landfills, pile up in back rooms, collect dust, or end up polluting the ocean. I’ve simply grown unable to pretend I care about performing imperialist white supremacist patriarchal capitalist professionalism for the sake of having food and housing.
mentorship has not been a part of my journey and I have no regrets about it. Its been a lesson in self trust in difficult situations to make the right decisions for the present and future without the crutch of another flawed human’s perception, projections, judgment or advice. i’ve been here before, without a job and significant resources. The difference is—i’m older, wiser, hotter and more confident than my past self and i’m excited to see where the next chapter in my journey takes me.
I’m Not quite sure where I’ll land. It became evident when I was issued a professional improvement plan with 60 days to show change that I desired to do something besides sit at a desk or in meetings and perform. I never viewed the workplace as somewhere I would draw fulfillment, it was simply a means to making ends meet. I left my parents’ home 10 days after graduating high school and have not relied on them significantly since. In fact I had to beg them to continue paying my $40 phone bill at the time until I understood I would need to fend for myself in every sense of the word. With that in mind I’m charting new territory in hopes that I can remain independent and build a career that offers the autonomy I desire.
xo,
Ché
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