The Invisible Black Woman

Gathered in the room for our last session of the evening, Carrie set the tone with a question that sounded simple on the surface: “What would you be proud of yourself for?” The question landed, sparking a wave of reflections. Lots of folks chimed in.

“Developing healthy coping mechanisms.”

“Practicing self-compassion and being kind to myself.”

“Stepping out of my comfort zone.”

Carrie nodded with encouragement. “Yes, definitely be proud of that,” she said.

She held up a handout, explaining, “We’re going to talk about our conflict styles today—sharks, foxes, teddy bears, turtles, and owls. Trust me, this is worth exploring.” She grinned, knowing we’d find the exercise strange at first, maybe even laughable. “But, honestly, who here hasn’t had to deal with another person?” She raised an eyebrow, and we chuckled, nodding in acknowledgment.

Point taken.

Starting with the shark, Carrie painted a vivid picture. “Sharks believe their way is the only way. They live by the win-or-lose mentality, using power and control to navigate conflict. Relationships take a backseat if it means achieving a goal. Sharks tend to see any conflict as a win-or-lose scenario, and they’re determined to be the winner.”

She looked around the room, “Anyone here encountered a shark?”

I couldn’t help myself. “I work with several,” I said, earning nods and murmurs of agreement around the room.

Carrie laughed, “Working with sharks, huh? That doesn’t sound fun.”

I shook my head. “Not fun at all.”

Someone else added, “My mom’s a shark. She always says, ‘If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.’ It’s all about outcomes for her, no matter who gets hurt along the way.”

Carrie chuckled, “Ah, the shark parenting style. Now that’s intense.”

Then we moved to the fox—the master of compromise. “Foxes are negotiators,” Carrie explained. “They’ll give a little if they get a little, constantly weighing what they’re willing to lose to reach a solution.” She looked at us, almost as if she knew who’d identify. “Foxes aim for a middle ground, but here’s the catch—no one is entirely happy with the outcome.” I thought about all the times I’d watered down my ideas, balanced my thoughts just enough to keep the peace. Another participant across the room resonated, saying, “I’m a fox at work. We all lose a little, but we get by.”

Then she introduced the teddy bear—the peacekeeper. “Teddy bears avoid conflict to maintain harmony. They’ll even take the blame to avoid upsetting others. Teddy bears sometimes become doormats.”

One woman shared, “I’m definitely a teddy bear with my family. Even when I know it’s not my fault, I’ll take the blame just to keep things quiet.”

Carrie nodded thoughtfully. “So you’ll take that hit just for peace?”

“Yes, because if I don’t, it just goes on and on,” she explained.

“At least if I accept the blame, I know it’ll stop,” Carrie restated, “but the conflict just transfers elsewhere, doesn’t it?”

The woman nodded, and we all felt that weight. In corporate life, it’s easy to be a teddy bear, taking on fault to keep the machine running smoothly, even if it means sacrificing yourself.

Next was the turtle. “Turtles avoid conflict entirely,” Carrie explained, “retreating into their shells.” I felt a pang as she went on. “They’re calm on the outside but carry the weight of conflict inside.” I thought of all the times I bottled up frustrations, keeping a poker face while my insides simmered. Carrie caught my eye, as if to say, “I see you.”

Finally, there was the owl. “Owls are the collaborators. They want everyone’s needs met and genuinely believe conflict, handled well, can improve relationships.” The idea seemed almost laughable in our world of performance reviews, deadlines, and invisible ceilings. Carrie smiled, “Owls try to bring everyone to the table. They’re pragmatic, open-minded.” It sounded ideal, almost utopian.

Carrie had us take a quiz, and we each tallied our results to see which “animal” we resembled most. After we’d finished, Carrie invited us to share our results. Most of us were foxes, teddy bears, and turtles.

I was apparently some sort of hybrid. I was mostly owl, only by 1 point higher, but also part shark, teddy bear, and fox. I described myself as “four parts something.” I was surprised I was any part shark at all.

“I’m surprised at how high my shark score was. It wasn’t through the roof, but higher than I expected.”

Stephanie offered some perspective. “Well, if you’re surrounded by sharks, it makes sense you have to be a bit shark-like to survive the day.”

Okay, Stephanie, I receive that! Externally, I just nodded and said that made a lot of sense.

Only a few folks had “shark” tendencies.

“Why do you think that is?” Carrie asked, glancing around.

One voice answered, “We’re all sad and traumatized and just want peace in our day-to-day lives.” The room burst into laughter, a bittersweet sound that spoke volumes.

“Most of us just want to keep our heads down and survive the day,” I added, shrugging. Competing, going full “shark,” felt exhausting just thinking about it.

Carrie wrapped up the exercise with a video on conflict’s roots—limited resources, unmet needs, and conflicting values. The video presenter shared a story about getting locked out of her car with her baby inside, then going “full shark” on the dealership that sold her the “smart” key. Eventually, the dealership manager listened, validated her frustration, and helped her find middle ground. It was a reminder of how easily stress can turn us into sharks, even if that’s not who we are.

“Conflict is inevitable,” Carrie said, “but recognizing these styles helps us choose our response, rather than defaulting to it.” Her words hit differently after that exercise. It wasn’t just about recognizing conflict styles; it was about realizing how deeply these environments shape us. We walk into work as turtles, teddy bears, or even owls, but corporate life often pushes us toward shark territory, whether we want it or not.

The real strength, I realized, isn’t just surviving the system. It’s remembering who we are within it. Walking out of that room, I carried one last truth: in a world that rewards power plays and punishes vulnerability, holding onto my voice and staying true to my values might be the most radical act of all.

Until next time, I wish you nothing but sunshine, rainbows, and unicorns, which are no less fictitious than the brave you are.

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P.S. If you’re curious to know which one you are, here’s the quiz: https://media.studycollaboration.com/pdfs/4-Conflict_Resolution_Activity.pdf