windows on the entire work floor, generous complimentary pizza on Fridays and free tacos on Cinco de Mayo, a completely remote executive team, and whispers if you went two too many times to the restroom. It was just that type of place.
As the youngest manager and 1 of 2 black women that worked in the corporation’s headquarters, I found myself drowning in my thoughts, work, and eventually tears.
I reached out to my boss for a solution several times, but I was given a gift card or a small raise here and there and was told, “We’re working on it.” Now, I’m like any other person. I love money but when is it not enough?
I found myself overweight, losing hair, broken out into acne, highly irritated, delirious, un-relatable and seriously confused in my role for the company. I had hit a wall. I had hit my breaking point.
I sat in the dark at home one night and contemplated what my life would end up like if I had continued down this path. I couldn’t help but come back full circle to the one person I modeled myself after, my mother.
Although her intentions were very much so pure, I knew that it all started with her. From the way she dressed for work, how she relaxed her hair every two weeks, kept a