The Fight to the Finite with Liz Williams

1….2…3………....1……………….None… Over the years I’ve become aware of a subconscious activity I perform just about everywhere and in most situations. I count the number of Black people in a room, on the street as I’m walking...

I search for Black faces in coffee shops and restaurants I pass, on planes, everywhere. I count, because it’s finite, and because it’s lonely. But more importantly, I wonder where are faces that look like mine. I am the only Black woman on a 25-person finance team of a multi-billion dollar corporation, an objectifying and sad facet of my professional existence that hangs around my neck like lead weight that I drag behind me each day. I am one of possibly three Black women on my floor, and of maybe ten among the more than 1,200 employees here at the corporate headquarters; none of us work together. I’ve never had a Black woman or Black man in a role more senior than myself in any of the public companies I’ve worked for ever, until about six months ago, and it was not in finance.

As a Black woman navigating corporate America, the majority of my experiences have been positive, but there is a darker, subtle underbelly that is more akin to that embarrassing uncle America is always trying to hush, who just won’t shut up, who stumbles into conversations and ignorantly makes bigoted comments in front of your new boyfriend. I honestly never thought I’d have to face these realities, or experience the exhaustion of being the only Black person in the room. However, my hope is that by sharing the many objectifying experiences you as younger Black females may potentially encounter, I can provide a kind of vaccine, building up your immunity against so much you will be made to endure and expected to navigate silently.