The Invisible Black Woman

No. One single word can hold so much power. And there I was, in pure disbelief that it’s what I was reading. I’d wrapped up the first year of my grad program with no incident—well, unless you call barely getting by through the skin of my teeth on one particular course that was giving everyone the business. No one made it through without a tutor and I was no exception. That aside, the semesters of year 1 were relatively uneventful. I’d informed my boss when I was first accepted that I’d need to do a internship in year 2 and I was allowed to do so at my current job, as long as it wasn’t in the same department I worked, and it wasn’t a project under my boss or one that I would have completed anyway.

No problem, they said.

Fast forward weeks before I was slated to start my internship, and it was a problem.

I was already in contact with the department and the department head I’d be working with. I’d worked with them in the past and they were excited about the prospect of working together once more. We briefly discussed some of the possible projects I could take on that would work well with my timeline and requirements.

When the deadline was a few months away, I flagged it for my boss. They tell me, yeah, yeah, just give me a rundown of what it all entails and I’ll get back to you.

I’d already done that. But I shrugged it off and sent all the details again.

Suddenly there are questions. “Oh, I didn’t know this. Oh, it’s what again? With what department?”

Now I was worried. I hadn’t bothered to look for an internship because I was assured time and again it wouldn’t be a problem.

But that was then and this was now. It was okay when I had a good rapport with my supervisor. When I was still very much the pet and not at all the threat. Then it was smiles and nods and good times.

It wasn’t until I had the audacity to be honest that there was a problem. When I was asked for my input and I gave an unvarnished answer, that was when it all went left.

I’ve never been good at being a politician at work. It would have served me well.

So by the time we were just a few months away from my internship deadline, there was more than just water and bodies under the bridge between my supervisor and I.

And each time I sent a follow-up email to inquire on the status and I was told I would be given a response soon, or that it was under review, I got more and more worried. But it never once occurred to me that the request would be denied.

It was. And there I sat, blinking over and over again at what I was reading. Excuses, platitudes, and a big fat no to doing my internship anywhere in the organization. And then it became clear this was no longer a minor skirmish, but an intense dislike of me and what I stood for.

Now if you think for a second that I went over my boss’s head and tried to get the decision appealed, you’d be wrong. Or if you think that I sat there curled up in a fetal position fully distraught as to what had just transpired, you haven’t been really following this story for any length of time. The trifecta of Blackness, womanhood, and upbringing make it so that when I hear “No” or “You can’t,” it activates my alter ego. You know the one: the one that transforms into a being that flips that negativity into something powerful and positive.

So I did what I always do when a door gets slammed in my face: I get busy looking for the window. I went on the internship website for my school and did a keyword search for the area of study I planned to tackle during my internship. A few results popped, but one in particular caught my eye. They weren’t just focused on equity work, it was who they were.

Sold.

I drafted a cover letter, tweaked my resume to highlight the pertinent areas, then submitted my application that evening. I got a response the next morning.

A Zoom interview and several weeks later, I was fully engrossed in a project in support of a local hospital system. The staff has been phenomenal. The work has been rewarding. The journey so perfectly unexpected.

I’ve had multiple occasions to present my ideas and proposals directly to the CEO. To get feedback from an inspiring Black woman who is as driven as she is compassionate. Yes, I’m having a legit fangirl moment and I won’t apologize.

Just a few days ago, as I was talking to hubby about the project I was working on and how excited I was, it all just hit me.

“Where’d you go?” he asked me.

That question is code for, “you trailed off in the middle of a thought and forgot we were having a conversation.” It’s definitely happened more than once.

“I just realized something. If it weren’t for the fact that ‘they who shall not be named’ said no, I wouldn’t have this opportunity. As annoyed and irritated as I was at the time, they did me a huge favor.”

“Damn, you’re right.”

We both looked at each other and laughed the way you do after hearing a well-timed joke with a nice and slow burn…

I have no idea where this is going to lead, but I know that I’m excited to see where it ends up. And with enough clarity and distance from the door slammed shut in my face, I’m grateful. Grateful my boss was petty and small enough to prevent my internship from moving forward. Grateful I allowed it to fuel me to look elsewhere immediately and not wallow in the “no.” Grateful my first choice (after rejection) was the right choice. Grateful I am now working with individuals who look like me and are as driven and hungry to get it done. Grateful to have found an organization that actually believes in and celebrates a Black woman bringing her authentic self to work—and for the record, I should point out that I have been a working professional for more decades than is any of your business and it took me working with an organization led by a Black woman for that to finally be true. But, I digress.

So turning my attention to you, I hope the title of today’s post now comes full circle. You may find yourself in a similar or worse situation than what I dealt with. And if you do, here’s 7 pearls of wisdom I hope you can take away from this.

1. Take a moment to grieve. While I didn’t wallow for days on what happened, I did take a few hours to vent about it to hubby and a few close friends. The hurt has to get out somehow. Please notice I didn’t say the hurt has to go somewhere because you shouldn’t internalize it. Don’t let your feelings become a seed that festers and poisons you.

2. Reject this as a personal failing. Pun very much intended here, but don’t allow the rejection you’re facing to become an indictment on who you are and what you’re capable of. You didn’t fail because they said no. You only fail if you give up after that rejection. So dust yourself off and get back at it.

3. Let your anger fuel your drive. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with righteous indignation, when channeled in the right way. If you were told no or had the door shut in your face, get angry and let that propel you into actions that accelerate you finding that window or the next open door.

4. Accept the rejection as protection. Because none of us have a crystal ball or are clairvoyant, we don’t know the future. There are times when a door is closed in our face “for our own good.” It is often difficult to see that in the moment, but now that I’m several months removed from what took place, I see that it truly was divine intervention.

5. Have an attitude of gratitude. I can’t take credit for this line at all. Someone was kind enough to share it with me once when I was going through. Don’t just be grateful for the good, be grateful for the bad. It’ll either shape who you become (positively or negatively, so keep that in mind) or be the key driver in your success. You know what else happens when you’re grateful, even for the people that want nothing but for you to fail? It’s hard to hold malice and resentment in your heart for those people. And the less malice and resentment you hold, the faster you’ll heal.

6. Get excited. That closed door means bigger and better is around the corner. So anticipate the upgrade that’s on the way.

7. Be open and make room. Now, I’m no physicist and perhaps this is neither here nor there, but I imagine that in order for the bigger to come along, there has to be space for it. You can’t replace your old car with a new one and leave the old car in the garage. You need to get rid of the old to clear space for the new. Clear the mental and physical space you need to allow for what comes next.

And speaking of old cars—and as someone who has an incredible attachment to their car that is now officially a teenager—I know how hard it can be to let go of things you have become attached to. If the car gets us from point A to point B, why get rid of it (I say to my husband all the time)? Of course, he’s always locked and loaded with an equally sound and profound clapback like, “And how many times do we repair it on the way from point A to point B?” Touché. Sometimes we are so attached to and hellbent on our plans that we can’t see another option. And that in itself can keep us from receiving the blessing. It can lead us to miss the opportunity altogether.

And if that analogy doesn’t work for you, just think about the device you hardly ever leave home without. Every now and then, you have to do a system update. When your smartphone has an update, it doesn’t just plop it next to the existing operating system. It makes room for the new by modifying the current space and replacing the old software. Okay, Imma get off my soapbox. You get it.

If I chose to argue my case to my boss and the higher ups, I would have missed out on the internship I landed. The days waiting for a response would have turned to weeks that would have without a doubt ended at the same place. It would have been wasted energy and effort to land at the same foregone conclusion. I am grateful I had the good sense to understand the door was shut permanently and to focus my attention elsewhere.

And now, looking back, I see so clearly that what I saw as a setback was merely a setup for success. And because I know for a fact God doesn’t like ugly, the very thing that was meant to cause me harm and threatened to derail my academic standing and graduation was turned not just for my good, but for my greater and better. On the flip side, had I done my internship at my place of work, I would have robbed myself of the rich and new experiences I now enjoy because I was forced to broaden my horizons. I involuntarily stepped out of my comfort zone and it has been one of the single-most impactful decisions I have made in my professional career.

The very thing you are facing right now may very well look like the ultimate setback, but I invite you to see it different. Rather than a setback, see it as a springboard, a steppingstone, a stairway to success. Turn this into your testimonial when you’re playing back the tape or sharing with others your “origin story.”

If you recall nothing else, I hope you’ll remember these words of a former supervisor now become dear friend: “your future is so bright, you’re gonna need shades.”