It’s Only Me.

I remember my first day in the office quite clearly. I pulled into the parking garage feeling revived from a vacation in Hawaii with one of my best friends, and excited to step into a new chapter of my career at Stanford’s Graduate School of Business. A little anxious, knowing I was getting ready to begin the process of familiarizing myself yet again to a new normal, I took several selfies to make sure my braids were laid, listened to the last few seconds of my playlist, and popped out the car.

I’ll never forget my first 30min on the 2nd floor of McClelland. Those 30 min followed by my first week and my first month of meeting colleagues across the MBA/MSx program served as the feared confirmation that I was the only cisgendered Black female on the team. My smile shifted over the course of that time to a continually perplexed look, and an intentional deep breath before I walked through the double doors into the office. “It’s only me” ran through my head several times a day, and in the midst of adjusting to a new work environment, being the singular Black woman was an unnerving feeling. I started to recount the last time I felt the flood of feelings that were starting to come up, and I remember the internal silence as I flipped through my mental rolodex for resources to help me reacclimate to onlyness.

I remember walking through Town Square with my eyes quickly scanning for a sense of familiarity, students looking at me, Black students in particular, internally logging and registering who I might be. As I met with students, I listened to their stories, and took note of their GSB experiences. I noticed who came to the 2nd floor of McClelland and who I had much greater luck catching up with while sitting outside at Arbuckle. I found relief in balancing work and the continual stream of thoughts in a colleague who helped me feel seen and heard. He befriended me and created a safe space for me to process being a new MBA/MSx Program team member and the only Black woman on the team. He started two weeks before me and was the only cisgendered Black male, and he eventually shared how comforting it was for him to see me walk through those double doors.

I feel a constant negotiation of my values as a staff member. I don’t have the same perceived protections and liberties as faculty or students to share personal opinions without potential long-term ramifications. Self-regulation is nuanced within any job, add being Black and the microscope seemingly zooms in. Team meetings were a process of continual self-regulation and strategy; evaluating what I could share that would alleviate some of what I was holding without making me too vulnerably exposed or appear weak or incompetent.

I’ve grown up learning, knowing, and believing that systems and policies are not designed with my success in mind; being strategic is my general way of existing. I found comfort in connections and some of the conversations I was starting to have across the GSB; however, it was (and is) our students who gave me the courage and permission to show up authentically as all of myself. Students could see the misalignment in my face when what I was saying and what I was feeling were in opposition and they challenged me to be unapologetically me.

I’ve learned that part of what contributes to my ability to thrive in any work environment is that I have had to learn how to thrive as a Black woman. I have learned that it is essential to trust myself, my knowledge, my expertise, my gut, my strength, and my beauty because each of these elements is constantly under attack and scrutinized by systems of racism, power, and oppression.

With time, I have started sharing some of my experiences and hesitations with my team, and they have done their best to hold space and commit to dismantling the seemingly taboo nature of talking about race at work. Reflecting back to my mental rolodex, I recognize reacclimating to onlyness as a protective measure- a survival tool I’ve developed to numb some of the pain caused by the perpetual reality of systemic anti-Blackness that is embedded in almost every system I encounter. Systems that have deemed Blackness as a threat and therefore have put my life and livelihood at risk at all times. It has been a continual process of unlearning concepts sold to me as truths.

I’m hopeful for where we are headed as a school that values changing lives, organization, and the world, and I’m encouraged by the ongoing resolve with my presence, my Blackness, and my humanity. I’m hopeful for there to be a day when a Black woman walks into her office at the GSB, and does not have to say to herself, It’s only Me.