The accounting of only one
Recently, I was asked twice on the same day how I felt about evolving in “my white male-dominated” tech world. This question came from two female executives I had just met. I get asked this often, but usually not on the same day.
My usually summarized answer is: “I am annoyed but accepting of these circumstances, doing my best with my limited resources to find the silver linings.”
My typical extended version is: “It is annoying. But it’s the world I live in, and I choose every day to remain in it because I love what I do, my team, and my work. I am a black woman, proudly from the Caribbean, and an immigrant. I am visible and a minority, but I don’t let it stop me. I try not to think about it. If I did, it would be depressing and demoralizing. I have lived in different countries and worked at different companies, and I am used to being the only one in the offices, conference rooms, and Zoom calls. I find my resources and joy as needed and focus on building informal communities at work and outside of work that embrace and support me.”
The day after, I went to a female networking event. From the door, I realized I was the only Black woman invited or present. I wasn’t surprised and proceeded to meet and interact with the other guests—some were friends, others I was meeting for the first time. Wearing my colorful blazer, I often used it as a conversation starter. I was visible and colorful.
The next day (yes, it was a busy week), I attended a gathering of accounting professionals. Fashionably late, I froze upon arrival. The room was filled with middle-aged white men in suits, looking all serious and important (mostly CFOs and Heads of Finance and Accounting). I was the only woman present and felt like an impostor as a woman, a Black woman, and a Black woman immigrant. For a moment, I questioned why I had left the comfort of my house. I could have been at my daughter’s soccer practice, or I could be catching up with my shows, or I could be writing for my newsletter. Why was I so naïve not to anticipate this situation? It was common, but somehow, I felt unbalanced and unprepared—perhaps still triggered by the questions.
I reminded myself of my goal to network this year and establish connections in Boston's accounting and finance community. To meet my goal of attending two networking events per month, I had to soldier up and step into that room. It was too late to leave; twenty pairs of eyes were glued on me, assessing me with anticipation and wonder (I also attract attention even when I don’t wear my superwoman blazer). I took a deep breath, painted a smile on my face, and entered the room, telling myself they were lucky to have “my greatness blesses their monochrome assembly with my avant-garde accounting wisdom and colorful experience” (I do my affirmations daily).
It didn’t take long for me to join a group, connect with the host I knew, and start discussing accounting. The embarrassment faded, but the annoyance lingered even as we debated international accounting intricacies and the world of finance automation. Thirty minutes later, another woman joined the group. We stuck together, discussing our common annoyance of being women of color in this male-dominated world. I was grateful for her presence and relieved not to be the only Smurfette in Smurf Village.
It was a great night of connecting and discussing the impact of AI in our accounting world. Before leaving, I reconnected with the host and shared candid observations. He was intuitive enough to acknowledge the elephant in the room. While he apologized, he also noted the challenge of gathering a diverse group of accounting professionals due to his limited network and the inclination of other white men to accept his invitations.
At home, I shared my exciting connections with my partner. When I mentioned my discomfort at the event, he asked why I felt strange since it was a common occurrence and I had navigated this world so seamlessly. It is what it is, right?
That unease lingered because I didn’t share any advice with my host, or maybe the social climate was making me feel more vulnerable. I’m purging through my writings and hoping future hosts will do their part to alleviate discomfort for “extraordinary and amazing guests” like me.
Personal Follow-Up: If you want me to attend an event, please follow up. I sometimes choose not to participate in certain events, knowing I’d be the “only one.” A personal invite and follow-up would build more enthusiasm for me to come.
Subtle Heads-Up: If you are a friend, subtly let me know I might be the “only one” so I can prepare mentally. After a challenging day or week at work, the introvert in me may not want to spend an evening “being on.” I have perfected the art of code-switching, but sometimes, it is just not worth it.
Acknowledge the Elephant in the Room: Sometimes, it just happens, and there’s no preparation possible. If that’s the case, acknowledge it and embrace the situation together. How? Welcome, understand my hesitation, and try to make me feel at home. I usually handle these situations well, but sometimes a little help is needed. Also, I have been to events, meetings, and parties where I was blatantly ignored and treated miserably. Acknowledge that I am apprehensive, and it takes me some guts to leave the comfort of my nest to perform in your world, our world.
Honestly, I do not expect anything to change in how I navigate my white-male-dominated world. It is a challenging process, and I am learning every day about how to stand in my truths as I build my personal resilience and my communities. However, I am not alone, and my hope is that with time, these apprehensions will only be standup comedy routines.
#theone #minority #cpa #thebalancedsheets #diversity
