Dismantling misconceptions about Black women in tech

Black women are the most educated demographic in America. Period. Despite centuries of systemic barriers, we: 👉 Earn a higher percentage of associate’s, bachelor’s, and advanced degrees than Black men. 👉 In many categories, we match or surpass white women in educational attainment. And yet, we’re still underpaid, under-promoted, and under-supported at every level. We earn just 66 cents for every dollar a white man makes. We’re consistently shut out of decision-making roles, even in fields we dominate. And we navigate workplaces where racism, microaggressions, and outright disrespect are still far too common, from managers and coworkers. So what do we need? Let me be clear: 👉 Stop the DEI Branding: Hiring Black women as symbols without power is performative. We are not your “Pet to Threat” case study. Invest in us as leaders with influence, autonomy, and compensation that matches our credentials, not your optics. 👉 Pay Equity: Not vibes. Not likability. Not who makes you feel “comfortable.” I was a recruiter, and I’ve seen how often less-qualified people are paid more simply because they “fit the culture.” That ends now. 👉 Sponsorship Over Mentorship: We don’t need another mentor lunch. We need advocates who use their power to open doors when we’re not in the room. Sponsorship creates career mobility. Mentorship just keeps us company where we are. 👉 Support Black Women Entrepreneurs: We’re leading in entrepreneurship, but we’re not getting funded or supported at the same rate. And when we create our own, we get attacked for it. (Google Fearless Fund, you’ll see what I mean.) 👉 Accountability: Track the promotions. Track the pay. Track who gets visibility and stretch roles. Hold leadership accountable when the numbers don’t lie and when the excuses start flowing. 👉 Retire the “Strong Black Woman” narrative: We are not here to survive your workplace. We are here to thrive, grow, and lead. Treat us with the respect and dignity every professional deserves. And most importantly, listen to us. Every time I posted about Black women, someone felt compelled to comment with their take. Let me save you the trouble: you don’t need to weigh in. Just listen. Despite all of this, we’re still here. Still rising. Still reclaiming our stories, owning our power, and doing the damn work. And let me say it one more time for the people in the back: I have NEVER worked with a Black woman who wasn’t qualified. Most of us are overqualified. Yes, we really are that good. Y'all be easy!

Black women do not get the same space to make mistakes, speak up or take risks in corporate spaces. It's been a weeeeeeeek on the internet. I've gotten alot of messages about why I haven't said more, done more, been louder. We don't always have the space to yell our thoughts from the rooftops. We are expected to be exceptional at all times, flawless in execution, and tireless in our efforts. One slip-up that would be overlooked, or even forgiven, in others can become a permanent scarlet letter for us. So if you're asking yourself why certain creators aren't as loud as you'd like them to be, remember, we are simply trying to protect ourselves. Every word, every post, every room we walk into has the potential to not only impact us but also ripple out to our peace, our families, and our livelihoods. As a Black woman, you are often held to impossible standards while consistently running up against the last best thing you did, constantly having to outdo and prove yourself, over and over. We're forced to keep receipts just to prove that we aren't imagining it, while leaders try to gaslight us into believing that we are the problem. It doesn’t matter how brilliant, how impactful, or how necessary you were yesterday; today, you’re expected to do it all over again, only bigger, only better. The bar never moves for us; it just gets higher. And yet, we still show up. We still create. We still lead. We still carve out space in systems not designed for us, knowing that every move we make will be dissected under a microscope. You're too much. You're too smart. You're too inquisitive. You're too whatever it is they need to say to help them unpack their own discomfort. So when you don’t hear us screaming from the rooftops, it’s not because we don’t have something to say. It’s because survival sometimes requires silence. Strategy sometimes looks like restraint. Strategy sometimes looks like moving in silence. And protecting our joy, our sanity, and our longevity will always matter more than performing for anyone else’s comfort.

78% of Black women executives report being expected to mentor others while their own advancement stalls. They call it "being a team player." I call it what it is: exploitation of your brilliance. Three truths every high-achieving Black woman needs to hear: 💰 Your mentorship has monetary value. When they ask you to "help out," send an invoice or decline. Your knowledge isn't free community property. 👏🏽 The same company that celebrates you in diversity reports is evaluating you on metrics that punish community building. Make them pay for both or neither. 🙅🏽♀️ Your colleagues get sponsors. You get assigned mentees. The math doesn't work. Find your own sponsor who opens doors instead of adding to your workload. My client refused to mentor for free last quarter. Result? 40% more time for strategic projects and her first promotion in 3 years. Say it with your chest: "I value my expertise at $X per hour. Would you like to proceed?" Are you tired of being everyone's unpaid coach while your own career stagnates? P.S. I'm starting a cohort of high-achieving women who are done shrinking to fit and want to shut down imposter syndrome and turn confidence into cash. No fluff. All fire. Visit https://lnkd.in/eYUsUsTB for details.

"Black women aren't just doing their jobs. They're performing an exhausting one-woman show where the script changes daily." Let me break down what Black women navigate in professional spaces: We don't just choose our words. We filter them through a racial-gender matrix. We don't just speak. We modulate our tone to avoid the "angry" label. We don't just gesture. We control our hand movements to appear "non-threatening." We don't just dress. We calculate every outfit to seem "professional enough." We don't just style our hair. We make political decisions with each hairstyle. This isn't paranoia—it's strategic survival: When we speak directly, we're "aggressive" When we show emotion, we're "unprofessional" When we assert boundaries, we're "difficult" When we seek recognition, we're "entitled" When we express frustration, we're "hostile" The mental load is crushing: • Constantly scanning environments for potential hostility • Preparing responses to microaggressions before they happen • Developing thick skin while remaining "approachable" • Achieving twice as much while appearing humble • Advocating for ourselves without triggering stereotypes Research shows this hypervigilance takes a measurable toll: Black women experience higher rates of stress-related health conditions Black women report the highest levels of "bringing their full selves" to work Black women face the most severe career penalties for authentic self-expression Black women spend more mental energy on workplace navigation than any other group For those working alongside Black women, here are research-backed ways to help: 1. Amplify Black women's ideas and give proper credit 2. Interrupt when you witness tone-policing or stereotyping 3. Question double standards in evaluation and feedback 4. Create space for authentic expression without penalties 5. Recognise the invisible labour Black women perform daily 📢 When they expect us to carry the world, we choose rest 📢 The Black Woman's Rest Revolution offers: ✨ Black women therapists who understand workplace navigation ✨ Bi-weekly healing circles for processing code-switching fatigue ✨ Expert guidance through professional double standards ✨ Global sisterhood that honors our authentic selves Limited spots available Join our revolution: [Link in comments] ⚠️ Check your spam folder for confirmation Because we deserve workplaces where our expertise matters more than our tone. Because our brilliance shouldn't require constant repackaging. Because our professional value shouldn't depend on our likability. #BlackWomenAtWork #WorkplaceNavigation #ProfessionalAuthenticity #RestIsRevolution P.S. I help Black women heal from workplace abuse & racial trauma through revolutionary rest. 📸 Collaboration between Sarah_akinterwa & leaningorg on IG

White Manager: “You seem…hostile today. You were silent in today’s meeting.” Me (aka the only Black woman in the predominantly white team): “Really? I smiled throughout that meeting - I am completely fine.” White Manager: “Yes but you didn’t seem…engaged. If you want to leave the team, just let me know.” Me: “I was listening and reflecting on what others had said. I also have not said anything to anyone about wanting to leave the team. Thank you for your concern, however I am curious as to why I am the only one having this meeting with you? Other colleagues were silent in the meeting.” White Manager: “Well, your silence was the only one that stood out to me.” Me: “What is the reason for that?” …Insert no response from white manager. Introversion in Black women is often weaponised against us in workplaces, especially in predominantly white workplaces. There is usually a one-dimensional expectation for Black women to be ‘extroverted’ in the workplace, with anything contrary to that being seen as ‘unfriendliness’, ‘disengagement’, ‘anger’ and ‘rudeness’. These misperceptions highly impact leadership decisions about Black women at work and, consequently, can have adverse impacts on our careers. Rene Germain rightly states, “Black women are not a monolith. People need to let go of their assumptions around what they expect us to be because this is how a working environment where Black women can feel safe and conformable to be themselves will be created.” 📸 Image from Rene’s article ‘Why we need to embrace introverted Black women in the workplace’ (Link to article in the comments) #BlackWomenAtWork #HypervisibilityAndInvisibility #Misogynoir #SystemicChange

Since January 2025, more than 350,000 Black women have lost jobs. This Labor Day, that statistic reminds us that not all labor is valued equally and that the pursuit of dignity and fairness in the workplace is far from over. Labor Day was created because ordinary people refused to accept unsafe conditions, child labor and poverty wages as the price of work. And Black women have always been on the frontline leading movements, building communities, launching businesses and sustaining institutions to improve living conditions for everyone. Yet too often, we’ve been expected to do more, receive less and carry it all without the recognition, opportunities, protections or pay we deserve. And let me be clear: this is not a call for equal outcomes. It’s a call for equal opportunity especially because Black women are often more qualified, have consistently demonstrated excellence and yet are still required to play by a different set of rules. Ensuring everyone plays by the same rules requires intentional action, not just words or symbolic gestures, but concrete changes in how workplaces operate every day. That kind of fairness doesn’t happen by accident; it happens through intentional choices like these: ✅️Hold hiring managers accountable and only promote those who care about people, know how to lead with fairness and uphold the same standards for everyone. ✅️Look around. Who’s missing? True leadership reflects the community it serves. ✅️Collect and publish data on pay, promotion and retention by race and gender. ✅️Interrupt bias when you see double standards, microaggressions or goalpost-shifting. ✅️Audit pay and promotions regularly to ensure fairness and transparency and commit to closing wage gaps. ✅️Credit contributions so Black women’s ideas are not ignored until repeated by someone else. ✅️Review job descriptions and advancement criteria to eliminate bias that undervalues or screens out Black women. ✅️Create transparent systems for hiring, evaluations and career growth. ✅️Build leadership pipelines so Black women are not just participants, but decision-makers. ✅️Listen to and believe Black women’s experiences in the workplace. History offers us powerful role models: Mary McLeod Bethune, Fannie Lou Hamer, Pauli Murray, Lucy Parsons, Ella Baker, Dorothy Height, Rosina Tucker, Addie Wyatt and countless others who advanced the pursuit of dignity at work. But the work isn’t done. Double standards, shifting goalposts and both subtle and blatant disrespect remain barriers Black women face every day. And here’s the truth: when conditions improve for Black women, they improve for everyone. Advancing fairness strengthens workplaces, families, communities and society as a whole. Change happens when each of us chooses fairness over convenience. That’s the unfinished work of Labor Day and it’s work we should choose to finish together. #leadership #management #fairness

"I'm overlooked for job opportunities, yet somehow always on someone’s radar. How does that make sense?” It actually does not make sense. However, research may help you understand the double bind that you are experiencing. As Black Women, we are often invisible when it comes to: • stretch assignments • sponsorship • promotions • credit for our work Yet, we become hypervisible when it comes to: • micromanagement • tone policing • excessive scrutiny • being “watched,” corrected, or managed more closely than peers In short: We are often overlooked for opportunity yet, hyper-managed for control. Organizational and psychological research explains this pattern as a mix of intersectional invisibility and hypervisibility. The intersectional invisibility is being overlooked as “non-prototypical." While the hypervisibility is being closely monitored because our presence is perceived as needing regulation. And here’s the part many of us feel in our bodies: This dynamic creates confusion, self-doubt, and exhaustion... Not because we’re doing something wrong, but because the system is functioning exactly as designed. So what can you do? Here are some research-informed strategies that may help you: 1️⃣ Make your work structurally visible (don’t wait to be “noticed”) Use language that clearly links you to outcomes: • In meetings: “To connect this back to the analysis I shared last week, this recommendation reduced turnaround time by 18%.” • In email follow-ups: “Summarizing my contributions to this phase: I led X, resolved Y, and delivered Z ahead of schedule.” • When credit is at risk: “Just to clarify, that approach came from the framework I proposed in last Monday’s meeting.” 2️⃣ Externalize scrutiny instead of internalizing it Shift attention from you to process and criteria: • “Can we align on what ‘success’ looks like for this deliverable?” • “What specific criteria are being used to evaluate this work?” • “What does autonomy look like at this level so expectations are consistent?” • “Can we document these expectations so I can ensure alignment moving forward?” 👇🏾 PLEASE REPOST THIS IF… 👇🏾 You know of another Black woman who is confused about the double bind that she is experiencing at her job. Helping her to have clarity about the experience and possible options can change how she shows up at work. Thank you.

Being a Black woman in data isn’t just about technical skill. It’s about navigating systems, narratives, and expectations that were never built with our lived experiences at the center. We bring more than credentials into the room. We bring history, context, discernment, and an understanding of how data decisions ripple across real lives. That perspective isn’t an add-on. It’s an asset. And the future of responsible data and AI depends on whose voices are trusted, whose insights are centered, and whose humanity is acknowledged in the process.

Being told you’re “easy to work with” is the worst compliment you could receive. Here’s why: Nine times out of ten, that “compliment” isn’t about your skills or leadership potential. It’s about your ability to shrink so that everyone else can be comfortable. How smoothly you silence your preferences, your truth, your self. How quietly you take on extra work and stay in line (whatever that means). If you're not careful, you'll mistake it for a badge of honor when in reality it's a receipt & proof that you've been paying the likability tax. The likability tax is the unspoken toll women—especially Black women and women of color—pay to be seen as non-threatening, agreeable, and palatable in the workplace. It’s the cost of downplaying your voice and muting your truth in exchange for being “liked.” And it’s expensive. It’s when you smile and nod, even when you disagree. It’s when you say “I’m good either way” when you're actually not. It’s when you edit the deck, run the meeting, take the notes, follow up, and still don't ask for credit because somewhere deep down, you've learned that being liked is safer than being loud. And don’t get it twisted—this isn’t about being a team player. This is about self-erasure dressed up as professionalism. Because we know on some teams, when a woman has a strong opinion, a clear boundary, or ambitious ask she's labeled. Either she's too much, too difficult, too assertive, too entitled, too ______. So instead of speaking up, she's always agreeable, pleasant, and quiet - trading her voice for job security. And what does she get in return? Praise but no promotion. Thanks but no pay increase. Titled "low maintenance" and applauded for her invisible labor. This is how women, especially Black women and women of color—get underpaid, underestimated, and overlooked while being told how “nice” they are to work with. But let’s be clear: Nice doesn’t build equity. Agreeable doesn’t close pay gaps. Being “easy” to work with won’t get you in the rooms where decisions are made. It just ensures you won’t be seen as a threat. So no, you're not thriving sis. You're surviving. And you're tired of downplaying your contributions so that others feel comfortable. Tired of working twice as hard and getting half the credit. Tired of claiming it's “teamwork” when it’s really just a masterclass in self-sacrifice. When you're as good as you are, certain people benefit from you being quiet than they do from you speaking up. You don't need to be easier to work with. They need to be better at working with women like you. The next time someone says, “You’re so easy to work with,” ask yourself why. You just may be paying the likability tax. — Found this valuable? Make sure to ♻️ repost because friends don’t let friends miss out on helpful content! Want to work with us? Book your Fulfilled Career Clarity Call here - isimemen.com/start

The Cost of Composure: Black Women, Dignity, and Deflection: When I wrote about Major General Lorna Mahlock, I didn’t expect it to go viral. But I understand why it did. Most people, especially Black women, knew exactly what I meant. Others, mostly white men, missed the point. (Important note: I know plenty of white men who do get it and are allies. But every criticism, insult, and name I was called came from white men.) Let’s unpack that, because the reaction says as much about us as the post itself. 1. “You can’t know what she was thinking.” Correct; I can’t. My post wasn’t about her inner thoughts; it was about the shared reality of being a Black professional woman in spaces never built for you. When people demand “proof,” what they’re really saying is, don’t make me look at what this moment reveals. (Side note: one man demanded to know my military background, as if that changes the lived experience of Black womanhood. Notice I didn’t demand to know how long he’d been a Black woman 😑). 2. “You’re doing this for clicks.” That’s a silencing tactic disguised as critique. When Black women speak truth and the world listens, we’re accused of “attention-seeking.” But that accusation never comes when people rant about gas prices or football. The problem isn’t that I said something for clicks—it’s that it clicked. 3. “Her stoicism comes with the job.” Exactly. And that proves my point. Black women are taught early to contain emotion, protect others from our humanity, and survive humiliation with grace. What looks like professionalism to some is armor to us—and that armor is heavy. We wear it anyway. 4. Let’s call it what it is: deflection. The backlash wasn’t about disagreement; it was about dodging discomfort. “You’re too sensitive.” “Maybe you’re reading it wrong.” “You’re just doing it for clicks.” All of it shifts focus from the message to me—my tone, my motive, my right to speak. At 62, after decades in newsrooms, boardrooms, and briefing rooms, I don’t need strangers explaining what I feel in my own bones. That’s tone-policing: a tactic used to control how marginalized people express valid emotion. It’s meant to make us question ourselves—to water down truth until it feels safe for others. 5. Why I Wrote It. I used Major General Mahlock’s photo as a mirror, not a magnifying glass. So Black women could see ourselves—and others might finally see us. Those of us who’ve held our breath through “jokes” that sting know the cost of composure. 6. The Larger Truth. We cannot out-achieve bias. We cannot out-degree racism. We cannot out-discipline misogyny. Major General Mahlock’s rank doesn’t shield her from it, just as my decades of professionalism haven’t shielded me. We hold ourselves steady not because we’re unbothered, but because we’re unbroken. This was never about one woman’s expression. It was about a shared truth too many are conditioned not to see. If that truth makes you uncomfortable, that’s not an accident, it’s evidence.