I will share something here.

I am the only Black person at my job. 1 out of 22 employees. The only one. I am great at what I do. The Go-To person for medical insurance claims and payments. I do what most cannot. But, I am the only one. In a thriving business of anesthesia providers, the concept of billing and keeping things in order is not novel to me.

I am the the only one. 22 employees. The only one.

My direct supervisor is voting Trump. She said this: in my presence, during work hours, because she can. I’m the only one. 22 employees. There’s just me.

To work in an environment knowing you are of no value aside from what you bring to the company, is an eye-opener. Every day, I pray like I am dying, because, a little of me, is.

22 employees, Ezinne. As much as I would like to “fight back,” trapping and being trapped is the reality for millions of us. So, what do I do? I dream. I build. I write. I am building a portfolio to assist me with perhaps exiting in a manner that would drum up respect. Drum up respect in a place that respects me not. 22… I’m the only one.

Thankfully, I want peace more than revenge. Thankfully, I need love more than hate. I speak when I need to. They’re aware of my opinions. I am never rude. They feel my presence. But, I am the only one. 22 employees, there’s just me, token black woman.

Peace and continued healing, Ezinne. I know it’s needed.