A letter to the system that was never built for me

I resign. No, this is not your traditional resignation letter. There are no two weeks’ notice from an unapologetic soul. No pretense of gratitude padded in euphemisms like “new opportunities” or “a fresh chapter.” No cordial signing off. I am not resigning from a company, a role, or a team. I am resigning from a system. A gaslit, rigged, suffocating machine built on structural racism, misogyny, false meritocracy, and a cycle that asks me to prove myself at every turn, only to be punished for succeeding.

I am resigning from the exhausting requirement to constantly validate my presence. From the invisible contract I never signed, it is the one that says I must work twice as hard to be seen half as much, generally to be reduced to my race or gender and stripped of my humanity. I resign from having to be qualified and overqualified, only to end up being perceived as “a diversity hire” in the eyes of those who couldn’t pass a basic empathy test, much less the certifications I hold.

Robert Merton’s strain theory brewed my environment and lives in my blood. I am the innovator forced to rewire every path to legitimacy because the institutional roads are closed and guarded to people like me. I was born into a system that said achieve! And when I did, it said “not like that”. When I asked for guidance it told me the doors were locked but try again. When I made my own door, it claimed I was breaking and entering; how the hell am i supposed to win?

Let me tell you, though I suspect not everyone will hear it the way I lived it. I once measured something at work. It is a basic task but one that required accuracy, focus, and integrity; but nothing serious. And most importantly, I did it correctly. Verified. Documented. Precise. My feedback? I was told not to measure. Told I wasn’t capable of completing such a “difficult task”. Meanwhile, a man less invested and less present skipped the measurements entirely or guessed them outright, and he was praised. Called efficient. Reliable. I was told to “watch and learn.” Did I measure incorrectly because there are men who lie what 6 inches is?…I digress.

I have learned that you don’t need to be competent in your role if you look right for the part. I’ve learned that confidence from someone like me is “arrogance,” while mediocrity from someone they prefer is “potential.” I’ve learned that there’s a glass ceiling and what’s worse is the glass floor…I am expected to clean with my back while someone else walks on it.

I’ve worked well over 40 hour, not for passion, not for ambition; but for survival. Because dead dreams still ask for rent money. Because being broke while brilliant is not poetic; it’s punishment to society alongside with myself but I don’t expect them to see the bigger picture. I’ve watched others rise with less skill and more audacity. I’ve had partners lean on me to make decisions because they knew I knew the right call but they were the ones qualified by anatomy, not capacity. The testosterone-based vote of confidence.

I was gutted from a position I excelled in and just removed; why? So I can be replaced by a man who couldn’t even complete his own tasks. He came back to ask me how to do the job he stole. Still tethered to dignity. No promotion. No raise. Just a fresh lesson in how disposable competence is when it comes from the wrong source. I quit during busy season.

Once, I spoke with a Russian client, using the little Russian I had studied, cobbled together with humility and a pocket translator. The client thanked me; no one else had ever tried. Witnessed the others mocking their accent, their struggle in their communication. But what did I get for the effort? I was told I didn’t speak Russian & told I made it up to pretend I was speaking to them. As if my willingness to connect, to try, to communicate with care was nothing but show. As if the only thing that mattered was their discomfort with the fact that I succeeded where they failed.

They told me I didn’t qualify for a promotion. No reason given. “We’re just unsure.” That’s all they needed. Uncertainty. A vague hunch that I was too much. Too confident. Too certain of my own worth. I am a spectacle! Maybe we can help you move forward if you wear a shorter skirt? Why is your dress so long? So what if that employee tried to film under your long skirt, he didn’t touch you.

I have been put on display to prove I was incompetent & when the plan deliciously backfired and exposed their own incompetency; they still blamed me. Or because the man they liked didn’t like them back. And somehow, it was my fault they weren’t his type; while I didn’t like him the way they did. But sure, it’s my fault.

Lied on to sacrifice a queen to uphold a princess’s place in the patriarchy. Asked to sacrifice my well being and being told I am the villain for putting my foot down; I can give you a villain if you’d like.

I’ve taught myself more than I have been offered. I asked to learn about stocks told it was “too complicated” while my vaginal lips cursed their existence; and I researched, studied, practiced and became better at it than those who kept it from me. I’ve devoured the things I was denied because my survival has never been optional.

I resign from letting boundary crossers cross me when I was a child. I don’t swallow bile just to keep the peace. I notice when mediocrity is lauded and excellence is ignored because of the mouth or the melanin it comes from.

I resign from biting my tongue so others can feel tall standing on the silence of my truth unapologetically.

I resign from pretending, from fitting in, from minimizing, from shrinking, from translating myself into terms you’ll understand; when you never cared to learn my language.

Sincerely,

The one you’ll always remember