Personal Stories – Page 2 – The Office Black Girl

A Needed Phone Call

Featuredby The Office Black GirlLeave a Comment

This was not my original blog post idea for today.

But it is the blog post I want to share…today.

As a black woman, I feel this constant pressure to suck shit up and handle things. But the reality is that narrative is forced upon me as a black woman that I constantly struggle with. I struggle with the idea of dropping the ball, asking for help, and even not pushing myself harder.

While this era of social media is now showing that this is a problematic idealogy, my timeline hasn’t shown me enough women still struggling to find the right balance. It seems as though my timeline is filled with black women who are doing the damn thing (which I applaud them) and others who have managed to break through that crippling ideology and voluntarily remove things from their plates.

Then there is me, stuck somewhere in the middle.

While I struggled with the guilt of not going to the gym again today, not completing my story update (I just did before I typed this post), and not pushing myself to finish my never-ending to-do list…

That all went out the window when I got an unexpected call from my son’s teacher.

My son finished the first half of the school year, failing most of his classes. As any mom will understand, failing your kid is the biggest blow (even if the failure is an imagined one). So my husband and I bit the bullet and enrolled our son in tutoring. A cost that we feel every month. But I refuse to let my kid fail because I didn’t do all that I could to help him succeed.

I feel like I am constantly bogged down as a black mother because there seems to be no room for error. Because I am raising a black son that will eventually be a black man, any of his shortcomings fall on me and are multiplied by a skewed perception. I’m not even a single mother, and I was disgusted by the remarks of Jason Whitlock in regard to single, black mothers. Like how do you even reach to make that connection?

With that being said, my son’s teacher called me and told me that she didn’t know what we were doing at home, but my son’s grades had made a dramatic improvement since they returned from Christmas break.

While it seems like such a small thing, I found myself in tears.

It is bizarre to me that someone can fix their lips to generalize black women and black mothers under some distorted, negative narrative. I know so many amazing black women (single and married) who do so much for their kids, and they do it without praise.

To those mamas, I see you.

Today, I felt seen. I have had many conversations with my son’s teacher about his grades, and it was how she delivered the news that made me realize she saw that I was trying to do my best for my kid. And it was exactly what I needed today.

365 Days of Posts, Uncategorized

Vague, Quick Update

January 24, 2023by The Office Black GirlLeave a Comment

It is 2 something in the afternoon, and I am struggling to get through this work day.

My head has been spinning for the last couple of days as I have replayed a conversation over and over in my head. I have WAAAAY too many things on my plate, and my husband asked about one of them. He asked if I was letting things fall to the back burner. And I think he was surprised when I said…

YES! DEFINITELY, YES!

He seemed taken aback by my answer and then asked me why I took on so much. In a reasonable, ideal world….it is a valid question. But I had to inform him that I am trying to dig myself out of debt, work a full-time job, have a side hustle (that I hope turns to a full-time job), a passion project (that I hope turns to a side hustle), be a halfway okay mom and wife (because I am too tired to be superwife/mom), and somehow get to the gym so I can lose a hundred pounds.

Everything is spilling off of my plate. The only thing that is pushing me forward is coffee and delusion. However, there is something whispering in the back of my mind that I am finally on my way to making big things happen for myself; I just have to keep all of this shit on my plate in the meantime.

As I search for my next cup of coffee, I hope you will take the time to indulge in the latest chapter of my passion project: The Ebony Alpha. You can find it on Wattpad and the Dreame app.

365 Days of Posts, Office Stories

Office Black Girl Moments: Vol. 1

Featuredby The Office Black Girl1 Comment

When I started this blog a few years ago, I intended to talk about my experiences as the only black woman in my department. If you know, you know.

But it was also for those who didn’t know. Being a black woman in the corporate world, especially the only woman of color in a department or even a whole company, is an experience, to say the least.

However, since the creation of this blog, I have since been laid off from that job, and I have found myself in several other work environments where the color of my skin has provoked awkward conversations. While I plan to share those stories here, I decided to mark this point as my day of change.

I recently saw a TikToker post about their one-year anniversary since they decided to start posting every day and how their life changed since then. And it made me think about how different my life might be if I had been consistent in the projects I pursued (and enjoyed) or if I didn’t just prioritize things to help dig myself out of debt.

So today is day one of me posting every day and seeing where my life will be in a year. I won’t lie, the content will probably be random, but I feel like that is appropriate. The black woman in your office has more going on than what you see every day, so here is a sneak peek into my thoughts, life, and the awkward moments of being The Office Black Girl

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Appearing Unbothered When You May Be Dead Inside

August 2, 2019by The Office Black Girl4 Comments

It has been weeks since my last post and that was not intentional. I have several posts sitting in draft status, waiting to share the depths and shallowness of my inner thoughts.

But like so many things in my life, I get overwhelmed by my own goals and dreams. Then sprinkle that with some personal drama and depression and I easily lose focus. However, it is my current dance with depression that is motivating me to blog today.

There is something about being a black woman in the world (office included) that makes you feel the need to put on any face that can’t be read as weak. Usually, many see the face of what some may deem as a bitch. But my favorite is the one that is hard to read. You can’t tell what I am thinking or feeling behind my expression and behind that face is my safe space.

After a long day of maintaining this face while on the inside I was breaking down, I am forced to put it back on despite a mini break.

I sit on the couch, alone, where the only sense of light is a lamp I am too lazy to turn off and the sound of the a/c drowns out the soft noise of my husband’s snores. But even in the near darkness and loneliness, I can’t take this mask off.

While sleep may have found him, she is somewhere beyond my current comprehension. Probably being smothered by the thoughts of my current marital and personal struggles. See I can’t go to sleep because she doesn’t want to fight hard enough to save me or herself. So I sit here typing while my thoughts turn into a poison paralyzing my body, preventing me from getting up and going to bed. A bed that tells me I am unwelcome despite the vacancy sign.

I’ve spent most of my adult life consciously and unconsciously training for this persona of unbotheredness. While depression has consumed me at times to the point of almost no return, I never let anyone see it who I didn’t want to see. My soul may have been dying, but on the outside no one knew.

I have no intention of opening myself up to strangers……well beyond the the anonymity of this blog. Or suddenly becoming a healthy, well-functioning adult, though my friends may argue my lacking in that department makes me a good story teller. But I am working on myself everyday. Baby steps.

That first step is finishing a blog post before the poison works its way down to my fingers. Because writing (blogging) is important to me. When I was young writing and reading were like my only friends. My husband used to tell me he feel in love with my words and that I was surgical with them. Though now it seems as though my precision is more of a negative in his eyes than a romantic notion these days, but that is a battle for another day.

It is almost time for bed, maybe a sleeping pill will help free sleep from its bondage. Guess we will soon find out 😉

Office Stories, Uncategorized

Smiling on Demand

July 10, 2019July 14, 2019by The Office Black Girl1 Comment

Yesterday, I meet with my manager for our weekly meeting. As always, I was expecting to be blindsided by her turn of attitude. Her persona changing from the forced smile of undersexed, dance mom to that of the Devil wears Target.

She didn’t disappoint…

I stared at this control freak of a woman, who sat across from me, with what I can only hope was a neutral expression on my face. All the while, I was already mentally checked out of the meeting when she started up with, “Now for the negative…” half way through this unproductive conversation.

As she began to relay concerns from people ranging from her boss and my coworkers in regards to my “bad attitude”, I could only think of comedians who “shucked and jived” on stage, demonstrating the joke of having to appease a white person for some sort of gain.

Then my own caricature popped in my head. An unreal version of myself that was created for the survival of being a black face in the white corporate world. Her once long straight hair, which had been slowly curling, was now natural and almost wild. The fake, broad smile that stayed plastered on her face was now gone. What remained was her full lips curled up on one side, silently making the black woman sound of disapproval, “Hmmm.”

But the most noticeable thing about my caricature, she wasn’t dancing. She was standing there with her hand at her hip looking at me. Waiting on me. Judging me.

I tuned back into the one-sided conversational assault just in time to make a small defense for myself that wasn’t worth the effort. In my mind’s eye, I could see my caricature shake her head and walk away into the darkness of my brain.

The request, demand, or statement of telling a black woman to fix her attitude feels like an attack based on a false narrative rather than constructive criticism. When I, as a black woman, sit in a department meeting full of white faces I feel like my face is the only one picked on since it sticks out. While the room is full of expressionless, somber, or focused faces, somehow only mine seems to be deemed as something different and threatening to the team dynamic.

Why is it when I speak as honestly as my white counterpart, my words are seen as laced with attitude and hostility but not hers? She is thanked for her honesty and allowed to continue on with her work while I am pulled into private meetings with management to address my attitude. Once again, I am forced to swallow my pride and who I am because something about me seems bothersome to my white superiors.

“Just Smile…”

Such a simple action. But why do I have to smile when I am not happy? Why do I have to smile when my determine expression should be all you need to know I am here to work? Why do I have to smile when no one else is?

After my meeting, I decide it is time to look for another job. It is disappointing because when I started with this company I was excited that I was joining a company where there was female leadership and a sea full of black women with natural hair. Black women who came in all shapes and sizes and seem to not put on a persona to fit some image.

But I realized, many had their own stories of being told they were “bullies” or had “negative attitudes.” They too took the beating until some left and other are left behind waiting for their exit plan to take effect as well. Now it was my turn to find some place that wouldn’t demand a smile, but would create an environment worthy of one.

As I started to think about the things I would have to do to fit in at a new company or at least to interview, my caricature started to emerge from the darkness. She was flat ironing her hair and stretching her mouth in preparation for a massive smile. But what kept me staring at her the longest were her shoes. They were tap shoes and on the side in white paint were the words “Shuck” and “Jive.”