Why DEI Matters to Me
Diversity, equity, and inclusion aren’t just ideals I talk about—they are realities I’ve lived without, and necessities I refuse to go without again.
After more than two decades in social services, I’ve witnessed firsthand what happens when systems ignore the people they’re meant to serve. But I’ve also experienced what happens when workplaces ignore the people who keep them running. Glass ceilings, racial profiling, and inter-office politics aren’t just office issues—they’re deeply personal. They wear down your confidence, drain your peace of mind, and impact whether or not you even feel safe enough to show up.
I’ve been the one underestimated in the meeting. I’ve had to manage microaggressions between coffee breaks and deadlines. I’ve walked away from jobs carrying stress that didn’t belong to me—but still shaped how I showed up for my life and my family.
That’s why DEI matters to me. Because inclusion isn’t just about representation—it’s about the emotional, mental, and social health of real people. When workplaces aren’t inclusive, they don’t just miss out on talent—they harm people, and that harm travels home.
Today, I’m advocating for policies that reflect real lives—not just ideals. I build platforms that hold space for truth, complexity, and change. Because we all deserve to exist fully—not just at work, but in the world.
Living Out Loud: LGBTQI+ Identity & Experience
This section is for the ones still becoming. The ones still questioning. The ones who’ve known who they were all along—and the ones still trying to find the words.
It’s for anyone who has ever been asked to explain themselves, shrink themselves, or hide a part of who they are just to make others more comfortable.
I don’t believe in boxes. And I don’t believe your identity should have to fight for air.
I’ve been an ally to the LGBTQI+ community for a long time—and I became a family member by marriage. This space is personal for me. I’ve seen the beauty, the strength, the complexity, and the resilience of this community—and I’ve also seen the harm. The way people’s existence is politicized. The way love is questioned. The way visibility comes with risk, not just celebration.
That’s not okay with me. It’s never been.
This space is my way of helping shift the conversation—away from judgment and toward understanding. Away from fear and toward belonging. Away from silence and toward voice.
Whether you’re out loud or quietly figuring it out, this is a space for full stories—not just labels.
For chosen family. For first crushes and final straws. For gender euphoria, awkward conversations, and the joy that comes when you stop asking permission to be real.
This isn’t about fitting in. It’s about belonging. It’s about safety. It’s about wholeness. It’s about truth.
We talk about the messy, the beautiful, the brave, and the bittersweet. Because LGBTQI+ lives are not monolithic. They are layered, sacred, soft, loud, angry, funny, spiritual, sexual, and full of nuance.
Here, all of that is welcome. And always will be.
Why Write About Social Services
I didn’t learn about social services in a classroom—I was introduced to it through family. Foster care and adoption weren’t abstract terms to me growing up—they were present in the lives of family — cousins, and some friend. I witnessed, from a young age, what it looked like for children to navigate new homes, new families, and new systems. And even as a child, I felt something stir in me: a warmth. A responsibility. A quiet determination to help wherever I could.
That desire didn’t come from obligation. It came naturally. It matched my personality, my empathy, my curiosity—and my belief in community as a source of comfort and connection.
So I followed it. I studied human services, communications, and policy. I pursued a path that turned instinct into intention. I joined the system, hoping to make it better. I gave it my heart, my skills — my life. I showed up — not just professionally, but emotionally. I led teams, wrote policies, supported youth, trained others. And for a long time, the spirit of community that I always loved kept me rooted.
Until burnout introduced itself.
Until fatigue became too familiar.
Until I realized that the very system I believed in wasn’t built to return the kind of care it demands. And I learned something that every helper eventually has to: boundaries — they are survival.
That’s why I’m write about social services now.
Because this work is human work. Because social workers, case managers, frontline staff—we carry stories, and we have stories. Because the families we serve are layered, complex, and worthy of more than checkboxes and cold statistics. And because so many of us are holding it all with compassion, but without room to exhale.
I write to create that room.
For those who serve and those who are served. For those trying to navigate systems, and those trying to change them. For those who’ve stayed, those who’ve left, and those who are somewhere in between.
Because I know this world. I’ve walked alongside it, worked within it, and carried its weight home.
And I believe our stories—the full stories—deserve space to rise.
Your Story Belongs Here.
If you’ve worked in social services, received support, or simply have a story to share about navigating the system—your voice matters. We welcome reflections from every perspective.
Reach out via the Connect page or email us at connect@unboxedvoices.com to share your experience, contribute a piece, or just start a conversation.
Why Write About Mental Health, Wellness & Healing
Mental health is personal to me—because I’ve had to protect mine.
Like many of us in helping professions, I’ve spent years giving care, holding space, and staying strong. But somewhere along the way, I realized that resilience isn’t the same as rest—and surviving isn’t the same as healing. I learned how easy it is to make space for everyone else while abandoning your own need for peace, softness, or stillness.
I write about mental health and wellness because I’ve lived in the tension between wanting to help others and needing to recover myself. I know what it’s like to pour from an empty cup, to wake up tired in more ways than one, and to feel like wellness is something you encourage for others but can’t find for yourself.
This isn’t a space for toxic positivity or polished advice. It’s a space for truth—for honoring the good days, naming the hard ones, and finding language for what it means to maintain your peace when the world feels loud.
Healing is a journey. Rest is resistance. Boundaries are holy. And wellness isn’t one-size-fits-all.
This section is where we talk about that—openly, honestly, and without shame.
Because you deserve your wellness too. Not just as a reward for productivity—but as a right.
This space is offered with care.
My hope is that what you find here brings light to your questions, encouragement to your quiet moments, and validation to the emotions we’re often asked to tuck away.
Because our experiences—messy, beautiful, complex, and ever-evolving—are worthy of being seen, honored, and held.
Introducing Real Talk & Raw Reflections
This section is where the polished answers fall away—and the real stuff rises up.
We’re talking about the complicated relationships that shape us: the friends we outgrow, the lovers we keep too long or lose too soon, the coworkers who try us, the family that doesn’t always get it, and the inner voice we argue with when no one’s around. I’ve had whole conversations in my car trying to sort out where I’m going in life—mentally, emotionally, and literally. I’ve been the one singing out loud like the world was watching… because it was, and I didn’t care.
This space is for the truths that don’t fit neatly into Instagram captions, therapy scripts, or holiday dinner conversations.
It’s for the moments we carry quietly, and the ones we need to say out loud.
Because sometimes the movies lie, the books skip the messy chapters, and our parents only told us part of the story.
Doctors don’t always know. Friends don’t always ask. And we don’t always have the words.
But here, we’ll try.
Whether it’s healing, hurting, hoping, or just being human—let’s talk about it.
Why Coming Out Is More Common Today Than in the Past—But Still Comes with Challenges
As we celebrate Pride Month, it's important to acknowledge both the progress made and the work that remains. By continuing to promote acceptance, understanding, and equality, we can create a society where everyone feels empowered to live authentically.
Let this Pride season also be a reminder to connect.
An LGBTQI+ & Life Blog
While Pride is celebrated at different times for different countries, states and communities, this is to reflect on the evolving landscape of LGBTQ+ visibility and acceptance in the United States in advance of the official U.S. Pride Month of June. While coming out has become more common in recent years, it remains a complex and deeply personal journey, often fraught with challenges. This article explores the factors contributing to the increased prevalence of coming out, as well as the persistent obstacles that many individuals continue to face.
Coming Out, Standing Proud
June is Pride Month in the U.S., and more people than ever are coming out and living openly. But the journey still carries risks. Learn why LGBTQ+ visibility is rising—and why safe spaces still matter.
The Rise in Coming Out: A Cultural Shift
Over the past two decades, there has been a significant increase in the number of individuals openly identifying as LGBTQ+. According to a 2025 Gallup poll, 9.3% of U.S. adults identify as LGBTQ+, up from 3.5% in 2012. This rise is particularly notable among younger generations, with nearly 25% of Gen Z adults identifying as LGBTQ+, compared to 15% of millennials.
This trend is mirrored in online behavior. A study by the Cultural Currents Institute found that Google searches for phrases like "Am I gay?" and "How to come out" have surged cumulatively by over 1,300% since 2004. This data suggests that more individuals are exploring their identities and seeking information and support online, reflecting a broader cultural shift toward openness and self-discovery.
Factors Facilitating Increased Visibility
Several factors have contributed to the increased prevalence of coming out:
-Greater Social Acceptance: Public opinion has become more accepting of LGBTQ+ individuals. A Pew Research Center survey found that 72% of Americans believe homosexuality should be accepted by society, up from 49% in 2007.
- Representation in Media: The presence of LGBTQ+ characters and stories in television, film, and literature has provided visibility and validation, encouraging individuals to embrace their identities.
- Supportive Online Communities: Social media platforms and online forums offer spaces for individuals to connect, share experiences, and find support, making the process of coming out less isolating.
- Educational Resources: Organizations like the Human Rights Campaign (HRC) provide comprehensive resources to assist individuals in the coming out process, addressing various aspects such as workplace dynamics and family relationships.
Persistent Challenges and Barriers
Despite these positive developments, coming out remains a challenging experience for many:
- Discrimination and Stigma: LGBTQ+ individuals often face discrimination in various aspects of life, including employment, housing, and healthcare. Transgender and non-binary individuals, in particular, encounter significant barriers and biases.
- Mental Health Concerns: The stress associated with coming out and potential rejection can lead to mental health issues such as anxiety and depression. The HRC's 2022 Youth Survey revealed that LGBTQ+ youth continue to face serious challenges regarding acceptance and mental well-being.
- Legislative Hurdles: In recent years, there has been a surge in legislation targeting LGBTQ+ rights. In 2023 alone, over 550 anti-LGBTQ+ bills were introduced across the United States, many of which specifically targeted transgender and non-binary individuals.
- Intersectional Challenges: Individuals who belong to multiple marginalized groups—such as LGBTQ+ people of color—often face compounded discrimination, making the coming out process even more complex.
Moving Forward: Creating Inclusive Environments
To support individuals in their journey of self-discovery and coming out, it's essential to foster inclusive and accepting environments:
- Education and Awareness: Implementing comprehensive education on LGBTQ+ issues in schools and workplaces can promote understanding and reduce stigma.
- Policy Advocacy: Supporting policies that protect LGBTQ+ rights and oppose discriminatory legislation is crucial in creating a safer society for all.
- Community Support: Building strong, supportive communities—both online and offline—can provide individuals with the resources and encouragement they need.
- Mental Health Services: Ensuring access to mental health services that are inclusive and affirming of LGBTQ+ identities can help address the unique challenges faced by this community.
As we celebrate Pride Month, it's important to acknowledge both the progress made and the work that remains. By continuing to promote acceptance, understanding, and equality, we can create a society where everyone feels empowered to live authentically.
Let this Pride season also be a reminder to connect.
Unboxed Voices is a safe and inviting space for all identities. Join us in telling real stories, sharing helpful resources, and making room for every voice to be heard.
References:
Cultural Currents Institute. (2023). "Am I gay?" and similar Google searches up over 1300%. https://www.culturalcurrents.institute/insights/lgbtq-identity
Human Rights Campaign. (n.d.). Coming out. https://www.hrc.org/resources/coming-out
Human Rights Campaign. (2023). 2023 LGBTQ+ Youth Report. https://www.hrc.org/resources/lgbtq-youth-report
Human Rights Campaign. (n.d.). Coming Out Collection. https://www.hrc.org/resources/collections/coming-out-collection
Pew Research Center. (2020). Global divide on homosexuality persists. https://www.pewresearch.org/global/2020/06/25/global-divide-on-homosexuality-persists
Pew Research Center. (2022). The experiences, challenges and hopes of transgender and nonbinary U.S. adults. https://www.pewresearch.org/social-trends/2022/06/07/the-experiences-challenges-and-hopes-of-transgender-and-nonbinary-u-s-adults/
Pew Research Center. (2023). 5 key findings about LGBTQ+ Americans. https://www.pewresearch.org/short-reads/2023/06/23/5-key-findings-about-lgbtq-americans/
The Guardian. (2024, January 30). LGBTQ+ advocacy group records 2023 as 'most damaging and destructive' year. https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2024/jan/30/anti-lgbt-rights-laws-kids-2023
Recognizing When Anxiety Is Influencing Our Day-to-Day Choices
Not all anxiety looks like a panic attack. Sometimes, it looks like:
- Saying “yes” to something you didn’t want to do—just to avoid conflict
- Mentally rehearsing a conversation twenty times before making a simple call
- Feeling exhausted by noon even if you got a full night’s sleep
- Avoiding new experiences because the "what ifs" are too loud
- Replaying mistakes or awkward moments over and over in your head
Mental Health & Wellbeing
Anxiety can feel like an invisible thread pulling at the corners of your peace, tightening without warning, leaving you breathless and overwhelmed. For many, it’s not just a passing moment of nervousness before a big presentation or an upcoming life change—it’s a chronic, persistent experience that shapes thoughts, behavior, and emotional responses day after day.
But recognizing anxiety for what it is isn’t always easy—especially when it’s become part of your daily routine.
You might just think you’re "tired.”
But recognizing anxiety for what it is isn’t always easy—especially when it’s become part of your daily routine.
You might just think you’re "tired," or that you're "overthinking like usual." You might tell yourself you're just being “extra cautious,” not realizing those everyday decisions—canceling plans, checking the locks one more time, feeling tension in your chest at small requests—are all being influenced by something deeper.
This article isn’t about fixing anxiety overnight. It’s about beginning to recognize it—gently, curiously, and without shame. Because naming what we experience is the first step to reclaiming how we respond.
Anxiety Can Live in the Background of Your Day
Not all anxiety looks like a panic attack. Sometimes, it looks like:
- Saying “yes” to something you didn’t want to do—just to avoid conflict
- Mentally rehearsing a conversation twenty times before making a simple call
- Feeling exhausted by noon even if you got a full night’s sleep
- Avoiding new experiences because the "what ifs" are too loud
- Replaying mistakes or awkward moments over and over in your head
These small but powerful moments often go unnoticed because they’ve become part of how we cope. But coping is not the same as healing—and not all coping strategies serve us well in the long run.
So, how do you know when anxiety is the one behind the wheel?
What Anxiety Really Looks Like
According to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fifth Edition, Text Revision (DSM-5-TR), anxiety disorders are characterized by excessive fear, anxiety, and related behavioral disturbances. Common symptoms include:
- Persistent worry that is difficult to control
- Restlessness or feeling keyed up or on edge
- Fatigue
- Difficulty concentrating or mind going blank
- Irritability
- Muscle tension
- Sleep disturbances, including trouble falling or staying asleep
These symptoms, when they show up more days than not for six months or longer and interfere with your life, could point to a condition like Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD). However, anxiety can also show up in other forms—panic attacks, social phobias, obsessive thought loops, or specific fears.
It’s important to note that even without a formal diagnosis, these experiences are valid. They’re real. And they deserve attention.
Where Anxiety Comes From: More Than Just the Moment
But anxiety is rarely just about what’s happening in the moment. Often, it’s about what has happened—and how those experiences were internalized over time.
Understanding the Roots: Trauma and the Nervous System
Many people who live with chronic anxiety are also carrying the weight of unprocessed trauma. Whether it stems from childhood neglect, family dysfunction, community violence, racism, betrayal, abandonment, or other lived experiences, trauma leaves imprints—not just on memory, but on the body and nervous system.
When your body has been conditioned to expect danger, even peace can feel unsafe. That’s because trauma trains the brain to stay in a heightened state of alertness, constantly scanning for threats. Over time, the line between “real danger” and “perceived risk” blurs. A simple disagreement, a missed text message, or a crowded room can trigger the same physiological alarm bells as a genuinely threatening event.
For many, worry and anxiety are protective mechanisms developed in childhood or early adulthood. They are the brain’s way of saying, “If I just stay alert, I can prevent harm.” But while this hypervigilance may have helped you survive the past, it’s not helping you thrive in the present.
What You Can Begin Doing Today
If you’re reading this and nodding along—or if you’re realizing for the first time that some of your behaviors might be anxiety-driven—take a breath. This isn’t about rushing to change everything. It’s about starting somewhere.
➤ Start with Journaling
Begin with a short, daily journaling routine. Even five minutes a day is enough. Ask yourself:
- When did I feel most anxious today?
- What triggered that feeling?
- Did I respond or did I react?
- What did I need in that moment?
Journaling helps you slow down and notice patterns. Over time, it becomes easier to see when anxiety is speaking—and when it’s time for you to speak back.
Need a little inspiration to get started? Explore the reflective journals by Carol Dee, available on the Unboxed Voices Resource page. Each one is created to support your healing and help your voice unfold gently over time.
Challenge: Start your journal with today’s date and write, “Today, I noticed anxiety showed up when…” Keep it going for a week. No judgment, no pressure. Just awareness.
➤ Follow This Series
This blog is part of an ongoing conversation. We’ll continue exploring how anxiety affects our routines, relationships, work, and health—and more importantly, how to manage it with practical tools.
Next up: How Daily Habits Can Help You Regulate Anxiety Without Overwhelm.
Follow the blog or subscribe to stay informed. Healing is a journey—and you don’t have to take it alone.
➤ Seek Help If You’re Overwhelmed
If anxiety is interfering with your sleep, causing panic attacks, affecting your relationships, or making daily tasks feel impossible—it’s time to seek professional help. Therapists trained in trauma and anxiety can help you unpack these experiences and build skills to manage them.
Therapy isn’t about fixing you. It’s about freeing you.
Support is out there, and you're not alone. We’ll be sharing a featured list of inclusive, affirming counseling services on the blog soon. Until then, check your local directories or ask your primary care provider for help finding a mental health professional who aligns with your values.
You deserve support that feels safe, accessible, and affirming.
Let’s Be Gentle with Ourselves
Anxiety is not a sign of weakness. It is often the residue of having survived hard things. And while those survival strategies served a purpose, it’s okay to outgrow them now.
You don’t have to be fearless to begin healing. You just have to be willing.
One journal entry.
One breath.
One shift in awareness.
That’s enough for today.
Work, Life, Balance: Are We Starving Our Souls?
We live in a world that never slows down. Life moves so fast, it’s hard to sit still long enough to enjoy a real meal—let alone share one with others. Yet no matter how much technology advances or how fast society moves, the core of human need remains the same. We all need air to breathe, food to eat, shelter for protection, and a place to rest. But if we stop there—if we only chase the needs that keep the body alive—what happens to the parts of us that make life worth living?
In today’s hustle, it seems that what often gets forgotten are the things that don’t come on a plate, don't hang in a closet, and don't sit neatly inside a house.
(A Real Talk, Raw Reflections Blog Post)
The Race We Didn’t Ask to Join
We live in a world that never slows down. Life moves so fast, it’s hard to sit still long enough to enjoy a real meal—let alone share one with others. Yet no matter how much technology advances or how fast society moves, the core of human need remains the same. We all need air to breathe, food to eat, shelter for protection, and a place to rest. But if we stop there—if we only chase the needs that keep the body alive—what happens to the parts of us that make life worth living?
In today’s hustle, it seems that what often gets forgotten are the things that don’t come on a plate, don't hang in a closet, and don't sit neatly inside a house.
The Neglected Needs: Beyond Survival
Imagine if the world shifted focus—not just to survival, but to wholeness.
-Emotional wholeness.
- Psychological wholeness.
-Spiritual wholeness.
-Financial wholeness.
-Social and cultural wholeness.
If “wholeness” feels too out of reach, swap it for “well-being.”
The truth is the same: we were created to thrive, not just to survive.
I’m reminded of the quote often attributed to Mahatma Gandhi: “Be the change you wish to see in the world.”
It sounds simple. But when you really sit with it, the message is loud:
Take care of yourself in a way that others can feel it—and maybe even seek it for themselves.
Microwave Living: A Recipe for Burnout
But instead of wholeness, we’ve supported an era of microwave living—
Quick, fast, and in a hurry.
It reminds me of how some people insist on eating their food scorching hot. They can’t wait for it to cool, so they swoosh it around in their mouths, burning their tongues and the softest parts of themselves... all for a moment’s satisfaction. It’s such a clear metaphor for how we live:
Fast. Reckless. Self-burning.
When you rush through nourishment—whether it’s a meal or a moment—you often end up hurting yourself more than helping yourself. Who really chooses to get burned over and over again just for a fleeting moment of “flavor”? It feels like a dangerous mindset: one that tolerates pain, celebrates toughness, and even glorifies suffering. At worst, it mirrors the same distorted logic that underpins self-sabotage, bullying, and emotional neglect.
When Survival Isn’t Enough
If we only chase air, food, shelter, and sleep, we miss the deeper needs that sustain our humanity:
- Meaningful connection
- Belonging
- Emotional safety
- Rest—not just for the body, but for the spirit
And when these needs are neglected long enough, the cracks show up everywhere:
-In our relationships.
- In our mental health.
- In our sense of self.
It’s no wonder we look around and ask ourselves, “How did we get here?” It didn’t happen overnight. It happened because we started treating life like a checklist instead of a journey.
Small Acts, Deep Healing
Consider this, when was the last time you gave or received a heartfelt compliment? A real hug—not a pat on the back, but a lingering embrace that said “I see you” without words? These small acts matter more than we realize. They feed the parts of us that a paycheck, a new car, or another checked-off to-do list never will. Restoring balance doesn’t require a revolution. Sometimes, it just starts with remembering that we are more than what we produce.
Choose Living Over Surviving
We weren’t made just to survive—we were made to live. And living requires more than fast food, fast money, or fast solutions. It requires slowing down long enough to nourish the parts of ourselves that the world forgets to mention. Let’s stop swooshing the burning food of life around in our mouths just to say we tasted something. Let’s let it cool, savor it, and be made whole again.
When Healing Isn’t Linear — It’s Ancestral Disruption
What do you do when everything you’ve been taught… starts to unravel?
When you realize the lessons weren’t passed down with wisdom — but with wounds. That much of what you inherited wasn’t knowledge at all, but survival strategies in disguise. Beautifully packaged desperation passed from one generation to the next like heirlooms no one asked for.
This is what it feels like to live at the intersection of past and future — carrying the stories absorbed from 'before,' and holding the responsibility of 'what now.' It is emotional residue born from cognitive and emotional overload — but also a sign that you are searching, wrestling, and intellectually awake in the midst of that weight.
You're not just questioning your path. You're confronting the crumbling of generational beliefs — what was taught, internalized, and unknowingly passed down. And there’s a deep grief that comes with that realization: that what shaped us was built on survival, not truth; reaction, not tradition; adaptation, not stability.
And what do you do when you realize there wasn’t even a pattern to begin with? Just reactions to isolated moments. No footsteps walked in the same soil. No road that anyone followed for more than a few steps before it disappeared again. So the idea of 'breaking the cycle' — what if there never really was one?
It’s disorienting. Because you want to heal. But how do you heal something you can’t trace? How do you fix a legacy written in invisible ink?
There’s a term for what I was feeling: fractured perception. The realization that you’ve been viewing the world through a cracked lens — one that distorts your sense of what’s real, what’s yours, what’s worthy. It’s not a breakdown. It’s an awakening. But awakening can look and feel a lot like collapse.
I described it once like an onion. The self, layered — some parts dirty and fibrous, others bendable but hard to digest. And in between the layers? A membrane. Filmy. Present. Hard to chew, but impossible to ignore. That membrane is grief, I think. The grief of reckoning. Of realizing that even if the layers are yours, you didn’t put them there.
This isn’t a how-to. I don’t have answers. But maybe that’s the point.
Maybe healing isn’t a clean slate — maybe it’s sitting in the murk long enough to recognize what you’ve been carrying, and then asking yourself: Do I still want this?
That’s where I found myself — though not for the first time. In my personal journey, I’ve visited this space more than once.
The practice of self-assessment with the intention of healing and growth isn’t a one-time event — especially when the rivers run deep and the layers of that onion are plentiful and thick. These moments return, often quietly, sometimes urgently, reminding us that healing is not a destination. It’s a practice.
Sometimes the first step in healing is realizing the script you were given wasn’t rooted in truth. That doesn’t make you broken. That makes you brave.
If this reflection speaks to you — if you’ve ever felt like your healing journey was more about unlearning than rebuilding — you’re not alone. Let’s name it. Let’s sit with it. Let’s rise slowly, together.
Boxed In by Good Intentions
I remember Bill — a friend of my father’s, well into his sixties, and a preacher like my dad. I was in my early twenties, a single mother of two, living at home, and figuring out how to balance survival with ambition. We were sitting at the table one afternoon, talking about life, family, and the economy. I was working at a bank, fresh from a short financial course, and I was starting to think about the kind of future I wanted to build — one rooted in service and creativity.
I remember Bill — a friend of my father’s, well into his sixties, and a preacher like my dad. I was in my early twenties, a single mother of two, living at home, and figuring out how to balance survival with ambition. We were sitting at the table one afternoon, talking about life, family, and the economy. I was working at a bank, fresh from a short financial course, and I was starting to think about the kind of future I wanted to build — one rooted in service and creativity.
Somewhere in the middle of the conversation, Bill looked at me and said, plain as day: “You should be a nurse or a schoolteacher.” Just like that. No questions asked. Not because I had ever expressed interest in either. Not because I showed some talent for the work. Just... because.
I remember feeling something twist in my gut. Not because there’s anything wrong with nursing or teaching — they’re powerful, life-changing professions. But that wasn’t me. I’d been fascinated by technology and drawn to human behavior since junior high. Social work and tech had my heart. So why was the expectation so narrow?
Bill didn’t mean harm. In fact, he probably thought he was offering encouragement. But that’s the thing about bias: it rarely shows up in cruelty. More often, it hides in suggestions. In expectations. In traditions. And for young women like me — single, unmarried, ambitious — those suggestions can be suffocating. They shrink your sense of possibility before it ever has room to breathe.
To be fair, my parents weren’t thrilled about my interest in technology either. They thought it was a passing trend, a risky investment. But I saw it differently. I saw potential. Innovation. Change. And I wanted to be a part of it. That desire — to chase something outside the expected — came with resistance from all sides. But it also taught me something about how identity shapes opportunity.
That conversation with Bill wasn’t the last time I’d be boxed in by assumptions. But it was one of the first times I noticed the box forming around me — and decided I wasn’t going to live inside it.
We talk a lot about DEI as policy and training. But it’s also moments like that — subtle, generational, cultural — where someone else’s view of who you should be threatens to overshadow who you could be.
If you’ve ever been guided toward a path that didn’t feel like your own — not because of skill, but because of someone’s comfort — you’re not alone. Let’s name the boxes, so we can build something better beyond them.
DEI work doesn’t always happen in boardrooms — sometimes it starts at the dinner table. If you’ve ever had to push back on someone’s assumptions of who you’re supposed to be, you’re not alone. Let’s talk about it.