Why code-switching harms women's confidence

“I realised I would never truly fit in anywhere. And somehow that became my freedom.” That line was shared with me in a message recently. And I haven’t stopped thinking about it. Because if you’ve ever had to code-switch, Edit your voice to feel credible, Wear invisibility like armour just to feel safe Then you know what it means to carry the weight of belonging in rooms not built for you. Some spaces were never designed to hold your full self. They were built to reward assimilation, not authenticity. Comfort, not challenge. Sameness, not nuance. You’re celebrated when you perform. Tolerated when you comply. Questioned when you speak in your natural rhythm, or sit in your full identity. So we adjust. We become fluent in survival. But in the process we quietly forget the sound of our own truth. But then comes the turning point. You stop blaming yourself for the discomfort. And you start recognising it as misalignment. Not a signal that you’re too much But that the space was never big enough. And from that moment on, you stop bending. You start building. Three lessons About Belonging, Power and Identity: 1. Shrinking yourself to fit in doesn't keep you safe it slowly teaches you to abandon yourself. Every time you dilute your essence to feel “professional,” you trade inner peace for outward approval. And the most dangerous part? You start to believe that who you are is too much. 2.Some rooms weren’t made for you because they were never challenged by someone like you. If your presence feels like pressure, if your ideas feel disruptive, that doesn’t mean you’re the problem. It often means your truth is confronting their comfort. Stay rooted. 3.Visibility means nothing without voice. It’s not enough to be seen. You must also be heard. And not just when your perspective aligns with the majority but especially when it doesn’t. So what do we do with all of this? Here’s what I’ve learned and still practise: Practical Shifts (for those tired of negotiating their identity): 1. Build inner belonging before seeking external validation. Know who you are clearly, deeply so that no space gets to define you by what it cannot understand. Let your self-trust lead the way. 2. Learn to speak from your centre, not from strategy. You don’t need the “perfect tone” to be effective. You need to speak from clarity not fear. The right people will hear you. The rest will adjust or move. 3. Let your presence educate the room. You don’t always have to explain. Sometimes, your mere presence is a disruption. That is the lesson. Don’t shrink from it. 4. Redefine impact on your own terms. You’re not here to be liked. You’re here to be useful, honest, and aligned. There’s a big difference between being impressive and being impactful. Choose the latter. You were never too much. You were simply full in a world that still prefers pieces. Have you stopped shrinking yet? Or are you still editing your brilliance to feel acceptable?

"Black women aren't just doing their jobs. They're performing an exhausting one-woman show where the script changes daily." Let me break down what Black women navigate in professional spaces: We don't just choose our words. We filter them through a racial-gender matrix. We don't just speak. We modulate our tone to avoid the "angry" label. We don't just gesture. We control our hand movements to appear "non-threatening." We don't just dress. We calculate every outfit to seem "professional enough." We don't just style our hair. We make political decisions with each hairstyle. This isn't paranoia—it's strategic survival: When we speak directly, we're "aggressive" When we show emotion, we're "unprofessional" When we assert boundaries, we're "difficult" When we seek recognition, we're "entitled" When we express frustration, we're "hostile" The mental load is crushing: • Constantly scanning environments for potential hostility • Preparing responses to microaggressions before they happen • Developing thick skin while remaining "approachable" • Achieving twice as much while appearing humble • Advocating for ourselves without triggering stereotypes Research shows this hypervigilance takes a measurable toll: Black women experience higher rates of stress-related health conditions Black women report the highest levels of "bringing their full selves" to work Black women face the most severe career penalties for authentic self-expression Black women spend more mental energy on workplace navigation than any other group For those working alongside Black women, here are research-backed ways to help: 1. Amplify Black women's ideas and give proper credit 2. Interrupt when you witness tone-policing or stereotyping 3. Question double standards in evaluation and feedback 4. Create space for authentic expression without penalties 5. Recognise the invisible labour Black women perform daily 📢 When they expect us to carry the world, we choose rest 📢 The Black Woman's Rest Revolution offers: ✨ Black women therapists who understand workplace navigation ✨ Bi-weekly healing circles for processing code-switching fatigue ✨ Expert guidance through professional double standards ✨ Global sisterhood that honors our authentic selves Limited spots available Join our revolution: [Link in comments] ⚠️ Check your spam folder for confirmation Because we deserve workplaces where our expertise matters more than our tone. Because our brilliance shouldn't require constant repackaging. Because our professional value shouldn't depend on our likability. #BlackWomenAtWork #WorkplaceNavigation #ProfessionalAuthenticity #RestIsRevolution P.S. I help Black women heal from workplace abuse & racial trauma through revolutionary rest. 📸 Collaboration between Sarah_akinterwa & leaningorg on IG

Part 4: For the past week I shared that I once walked into work wearing a polka dot dress and a blazer—professional, comfortable, me. Before I could ... . . . . even sit down, a manager said: “You're power dressing today! Is that what you're trying to do—power dress?” It was said before “good morning.” It wasn’t meant as a compliment. And the tone that followed for the rest of that meeting made it very clear—I wasn’t just being seen, I was being scrutinised. In that moment, I was made to feel like my confidence was suspicious. Like my presence was too much. Like I needed to shrink. It wasn’t just a comment—it was a signal. A reminder of what professionalism really means when filtered through whiteness. This wasn’t just an awkward interaction. This was about respectability politics—the unspoken rules that say Black women must perform palatability to be accepted. It was misogynoir—the unique cocktail of racism and sexism reserved for Black women, where confidence is read as aggression, and presence becomes threat. It was racialised professionalism—where dressing well and advocating strongly are interpreted not as competence, but as disruption. And I’m not the only one. This is a pattern. Not a personal grievance. This Black Inclusion Week, I’m Naming It: 🛑 Stop calling us “strong.” It's not a compliment. 🛑 Stop interpreting confidence as threat. 🛑 Stop dressing up discomfort with Black womanhood as professionalism. Let’s Shift the Lens Instead of asking why is she so confident, ask: -Why does this workplace still need Black women to code-switch to feel safe? -Why is quiet compliance rewarded, and advocacy punished? If you’ve had to shape-shift, tone-check, or dim your light to belong, you’re not alone—and you’re not imagining it. I'm only feeling comfortable to share some of the experiences I had in the workplace over the years, so you're definitely not alone! Please feel free to share your thoughts in the comments. . . . . . .#antiracism #antiracistpractice #socialworkcoach