Unwavering E-Book

Nellie Borrero

• Herausgeber: John Wiley & Sons
• Kategorie: Fachliteratur
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 313

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

A pioneering warrior for diversity and inclusion shows how to make game-changing moves that will benefit you and your organization alike When Nellie Borrero joined Accenture, bigotry and bias went unnoticed and unchecked; it was simply the workplace norm. Now, 35+ years later, this first-generation Latina shares how she led diversity strategy and developed award-winning inclusion and diversity programs that transformed Accenture into the #1 ranked employer for inclusion, diversity, and equity. In Unwavering, Borrero draws on her experiences with remarkable candor and courage to inspire you to think bigger, know your value, and show up with it everywhere, every day. She reveals how to remove barriers and claim space not just for yourself but for others as well. You'll become aware of: * Biases that negatively impact professionals of color * Recognizing that belonging and uniqueness don't have to be at odds * Standing up and standing out: taking your career from the margins to center stage * What to do when mentoring fails--and the power of embracing and accepting help * Staying true to yourself when your values collide with reality * Showing up strategically, intentionally asserting yourself, and competing A manifesto for understanding and action, Unwavering provides a proven framework for how to create transformational relationships that make diversity and inclusion an integral part of your success and your company's competitive advantage.

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Cover

Table of Contents

Praise for

Unwavering

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Foreword

Introduction: The Power of One Question

My Early Days

Recognizing the Limits to Reaching My Full Potential

Answering the Uncomfortable Question

CHAPTER 1: The Complexities of Finding Belonging

Cultural Collisions

Belonging

Prejudice and Racism in the Workplace

Defining Moments

Speak Up for Yourself

Waiting for Permission

What It's Like to Experience Belonging

Questions for Consideration

CHAPTER 2: The Constant Work Against Marginalization

Marginalization in Action

Comfort Zone for Whom?

The Marginalization Effect

Taking Back Your Power

The Senior Level Is Not a Shield

Questions for Consideration

CHAPTER 3: Understand Your Power; Claim Your Worth

Control the Narrative

Choose Yourself

Bet on Your Value

Boosting Your Power

Know Your Worth

Questions for Consideration

CHAPTER 4: Choosing to Lead with an Inclusive Mindset

Access Granted, But Not Ready

Mentoring: An Investment and a Reward

Become the Best Ally You Can Be

A Culture of Belonging

Questions for Consideration

CHAPTER 5: The Push‐Pull of Personal and Professional Demands

My New, Negatively Perceived Label: Divorced, Single Working Mom

Tapping into the Village

Beautiful and Challenging Surprises

Choices

Adapt to the Unplanned

Integrate Mindfully

Questions for Consideration

CHAPTER 6: Asserting Yourself Through Your Brand

My Brand of Courage

Integrating Your Brand with Your Power

Different Setting, Same Brand

Setting Boundaries by Recognizing Your Brand

Bring Everyone In, Lift Everyone Up

Questions for Consideration

CHAPTER 7: Solving for Self and Clients: Assessing Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion

The Four Pillars of the DE&I Maturity Framework

The Maturity Framework in Action

We Can't Afford “Diversity Fatigue”

Voices Amplified for Social Justice and Human Rights

Building a More Inclusive Environment One Relationship at a Time

Questions for Consideration

CHAPTER 8: Network Like It's Your Own Dance Floor

Relationship Building

Opportunity Squandered

Help Me Understand

The Power of Elevating External Organizational Relationships

Questions for Consideration

CHAPTER 9: I Am Where I Earned to Be

Own It!

Now What?

Compete

Is Not a Dirty Word

Are You Really Empowered?

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Journey Line Exercise

Index

End User License Agreement

Guide

Cover Page

Praise for Unwavering

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Foreword

Table of Contents

Begin Reading

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Index

Wiley End User License Agreement

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Praise for Unwavering

“You might be all powerful, confident, and perfect but there is a little Nellie in you. There is certainly a little Nellie in me. We better start doing some things that are uncomfortable because our planet, people, and our businesses need strong leaders. Nellie changed lives and a great organization by being courageous. She proves repeatedly that the people around you change when you do. Great companies have an uncommon proportion of leaders like Nellie, and I have the data to prove it.”

—Michael C. Bush,CEO of Great Place To Work and global authority on high‐trust, high‐performance workplace cultures

“In Unwavering, Nellie Borrero shares how she has led the charge for diversity and inclusion to ensure that everyone belongs. In her authentic voice, she brings to light the urgency for change today and inspires readers to take action. If you read just one book about the power of belonging and how you can be a champion for a culture of inclusion in your organization, read Unwavering.”

—Jacqui Canney,Chief People Officer, ServiceNow

“Unwavering will change the way leaders think, feel, and behave—no matter who you are, or where you are in your career. The book offers unexpected candor, timely insights, and battle‐tested solutions. Rarely do you find so many resources in one place.”

—Douglas R. Conant,former Fortune 500 CEO, champion of 21st‐century leadership, and New York Times bestselling author

“Iconic leadership is inclusive leadership. No one knows that better than Nellie Borrero. Her personal story of over 30 years at a top global company is truly “unwavering”—where she faced the same kinds of hurdles, challenges, and opportunities that so many people still deal with at work today. No matter what your background, position, or company, Nellie's book will mandate that you do more, because (as the data show) growth leadership is inclusive leadership.”

—Rachel Cooke,Chief Operating Officer, Brandon Hall Group

“Powerful and honest! Nellie Borrero's story of her courageous rise from the Bronx to Director at Accenture will keep you laughing, cringing at the missteps, and inspired until the very end. Filled with the raw truth of what it is to be a woman of color in leadership, Nellie's story is about remarkable challenges, passion, and determination to make this company's inclusion a competitive advantage. She shares her award‐winning strategies, starting with smart moves everyone can make on Monday morning to think bigger. Unwavering is a must read for executives, HR, and people everywhere looking to make their organizations better because we can't wait any longer to get talent right.”

—Dr. Marshall Goldsmith,Thinkers50 #1 Executive Coach and New York Times bestselling author, including The Earned Life

“Deeply personal, with vivid stories that evoke strong emotions in the reader, Borrero's book brings to the surface the challenges that so many of us face in the workplace and provides a roadmap for how to overcome them.”

—Dr. Stefanie K. Johnson,Thinkers50 guru, professor at CU Boulder's Leeds School of Business, and author of the Wall St. Journal bestseller Inclusify

“ Unwavering is the book that gives the inspiration to dismantle bias that leads to lifelong transformation, and celebration of inclusivity of all. Nellie’s reflections are remnants of the past that bring light to the urgency of today. While her experiences may shock some, they will empower all to be change agents and inspire others to stand as allies. Do yourself a favor, if you really are seeking to understand the power and impact of belonging, get this book today and another for a colleague or mentee.”

—Leah McGowen‐Hare, MSEd, Senior Vice President, Salesforce

“A book full of lived truths, Nellie Borrero's Unwavering starts with personal, powerful, deeply resonant stories. For those who wish to unleash their under‐recognized greatness—whether you are an “awkward ally” who can do more to help others find their greatness, or you come from a diverse community and have faced some of Nellie's same barriers—this book gives you a sense of agency to win together.”

—Sanyin Siang,Director of Duke University's Coach K Leadership and Ethics Center, Thinkers50 guru, and CEO advisor

“Nellie Borrero is a one‐of‐a‐kind human being who has focused her career on uplifting others through the power of inclusion. Accenture has evolved into a globally recognized diverse and best place to work in large part due to Nellie's grit and humanity. She's taken her 30‐year career at Accenture and openly shared it as a continued effort to create change. Get the full story, and how you can become a champion for inclusion in your company, in Unwavering.”

—Rosa Ramos‐Kwok, JPMorgan Chase Managing Director and Board Chair of the Hispanic IT Executive Council

“This book is important for everyone to read, process, and absorb. Her premise is truly about a successful business in the 21st century. I have always thought of diversity and inclusion as “basic business.” If you don't have a broad set of talent, don't understand your broad base of customers, and don't understand the broad base of suppliers your company depends upon, your business will not achieve the performance levels of those that do. Talent has proven to be an engine of growth and innovation—all kinds of talent, including diverse backgrounds, ethnicities, and experiences. Companies, organizations, and governments with a truly diverse mix of talent have been shown to outperform those with limited or no diversity. Nellie's book, Unwavering, brings that into clear focus. In her career, Nellie has exemplified an action‐oriented pioneer and leader as she has ascended to Managing Director of Global Inclusion & Diversity at Accenture. Nellie represents the heart and soul of Accenture. She lives it and breathes it. Her book serves as a manual for how to value all people, and how to bring together diverse talents to build a competitive advantage and a world‐class culture.”

—Sol Trujillo,Founder and Chairman, Trujillo Group, Chairman of the Latino Donor Collaborative, and Co‐Founder of L'ATTITUDE

Foreword by JULIE SWEET

NELLIE BORRERO

UNWAVERING

REJECTING BIAS, IGNITING CHANGE, CELEBRATING INCLUSION

Copyright © 2024 by Accenture Global Solutions Limited, All rights reserved.

Published by John Wiley & Sons, Inc., Hoboken, New Jersey.

Published simultaneously in Canada.

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Library of Congress Cataloging‐in‐Publication Data is Available:

ISBN: 9781394239870 (cloth)

ISBN: 9781394239887 (ePub)

ISBN: 9781394239894 (ePDF)

Cover Design: Wiley

Cover Image: © epic/Adobe Stock

Author Photo: © Brett Deutsch, Deutsch Photography

I dedicate this book to:

My parents, Jose and Georgina, who set a foundation full of love, instilling an inner sense of spirituality, self‐empowerment, and pride

My husband, Ken, who has lovingly and unselfishly cheered me on throughout all phases of our journey together

My children, Ginaly and Kenny, whose daily love nourishes me, infusing me with incredible joy and purpose

My grandson, Liam, who has reminded me how amazing life is through a child's love and imagination

Foreword

The success of Accenture is completely entwined with our focus on diversity, equity, and inclusion. With a culture and sense of belonging, we have better financial performance, attract the best talent, and live our core values. But it was not always this way at our company.

In 2010, when I joined Accenture, then‐CEO Pierre Nanterme said to me, “We aren't leaders. We are fast followers.” And we both knew that posture was not sufficient to ensure our success. Just a few years later, we set the ambition to be innovation‐led and to rotate our company from being less than 20% digital, cloud and security to 70% by 2020. We recognized that you cannot lead in innovation—and reinvent the core of your business—by being a fast follower. And you cannot be an innovator without a wide range of perspectives, expertise, and insight. That was the point where diversity became a business priority.

The business rationale is clear: talent is a competitive differentiator. To be successful in the coming decade, companies will need to access, create, and unlock the potential of talent. And if leaders do not attract diverse talent, they shrink their pool of talent by default—leading to less of a competitive advantage.

So we set the strategy and the goals, collected data, and began to hold our leaders accountable, just as we do with our financial priorities. And in 2015, as CEO of Accenture North America, I published externally—for the first time in our industry—our US workforce demographic data for gender, race and ethnicity, persons with disabilities, and veterans. We did so with a clear vision in mind: transparency builds trust. Our numbers were not good at the outset, so we doubled down. And we began to attract more diverse talent, not because we were where we wanted to be, but because people knew we were committed to fostering a culture where everyone can be themselves and reach their potential both personally and professionally.

None of this would have happened without Nellie Borrero.

Nellie's journey is Accenture's journey. In her words, she has led the way in “rejecting biases, taking the space, and owning it with good intention.” She has helped Accenture—and countless companies and individuals—move from aspiration to action. Her determination and relentless focus on doing the right thing for everyone in the room, even when it is incredibly difficult, have moved the needle from a lack of understanding (and sometimes even blind resistance to change) to a welcome and necessary reality of diversity through intention, inclusion through choice, and equality through everyday actions.

I greatly value my relationship with Nellie—and I am inspired by her journey. She has been instrumental in helping me become the leader I aspire to be, through her fearless feedback and clear counsel.

For decades, Nellie has traveled the world, sharing lessons learned with underrepresented communities and coaching generations of leaders on how best to lead others, particularly around diversity. In these pages, she offers practical advice on negotiating cultural collisions, creating your own brand of courage, cultivating a sense of belonging, and knowing your worth. At the heart of all this is Nellie's personal story—the ups and downs, with nothing held back. This is a book about human potential and possibility, grounded in real emotion and her boundless empathy.

It is not always easy reading, because it is not intended to be. Diversity and inclusion are challenging issues. Nellie raises the tough questions about belonging, marginalizing, and self‐minimalizing that we must ask about the people we work with, and ourselves, especially if we are leaders. What does it feel like to be uncomfortable in your own skin—to feel marginalized and alone? To have your abilities questioned by others? And to question them yourself?

Through her honesty, her openness, and her practical guidance, Nellie is igniting the change she wants to see in the world. Guided by her insightful and hopeful book, we can work together toward a future where everyone is seen, heard, and valued—and everyone celebrates inclusion.

Julie Sweet

Chair and Chief Executive Officer, Accenture

Introduction: The Power of One Question

Several years ago, my colleague Carolina and I were debating a career opportunity that would have evolved the work that I'd been doing to have a more global reach. It was an expanded role that would have undoubtedly propelled my career to new leadership heights and the type of professional advancement that I had visualized for quite some time. Yet instead of being fully excited, I sat there listing all of the reasons—or more accurately, all of the excuses—why it was not a sound strategic move for me at that time. I felt a heaviness that robbed me of my freedom to get excited and feel truly joyous about the opportunity.

As I relentlessly added to the list of negatives, Carolina asked me in a very direct and deliberate manner, “Nellie, who in your past has made you believe that you are not good enough?” Her stare was piercing and somewhat intimidating. Although I knew in my heart that her question came from a genuinely good place—she was a team member who reported to me and we'd known each other for quite some time at that point—my mind immediately went to, “What did she just have the audacity to ask me? Seriously, why would she ask me that?”

I paused for a moment, hoping that my body language adequately concealed my defensiveness. With conviction and a serious attitude, I replied, “Absolutely no one.” I was not willing to be exposed, and I wanted my reply to end the conversation. I redirected the conversation towards other topics we needed to address. But as decisive as my answer was, I couldn't deny the unpleasant sting that resonated inside of me. It was obvious that she had touched a nerve.

At home that evening, I still could not shake off the discomfort of Carolina's question. I tried to shift my attention to my normal evening routine. I turned on the news for some distracting noise and tore through the kitchen, flinging open the refrigerator and cupboards to quickly cook dinner, but none of it helped. With every dash of seasoning I shook into the pot, I could, in almost perfect synchronization, hear myself repeat each word from that provocative question: “Who. Made. You. Believe. You're. Not. Good. Enough?”

I knew it was time to stir one of the pots on the stove, but I was too distracted to do so. One by one, faster and faster, memories from my childhood flooded my mind. Those moments, experiences, and incidents that had impacted me deeply and shaped my beliefs vividly reappeared, accompanied by a swirl of emotions. The questions of self‐reflection came in quick succession. Had I subconsciously been showing up as if I were not good enough? If so, had this belief inadvertently affected or slowed down my career progression or personal brand? What opportunities have I missed along the way as a result? Have I been too passive or too complacent because I subconsciously don't believe myself to be good enough? I was feeling anxious, and angry, but also curious. I knew that no matter how uncomfortable, I needed to dig deeper and find the answers.

My Early Days

I learned very early in life how to make myself virtually invisible to those who did not look like me. Standing in the elevator of an apartment complex that my parents worked hard to get us into, my mother's orders rang loudly in my young ears: “Be still. Be silent. No talking, laughing, or acting silly. No eye contact with anyone.” My sister and I did exactly as we were told whenever we entered the lobby of our building. In the elevator, I almost felt like I was holding my breath as I watched the floor numbers ascend. By the time we finally reached the 23rd floor, I could barely wait to get into our apartment, where the outside world no longer mattered, and we were free to be our authentic Nuyorican selves.

It was the mid‐'70s, and my parents had managed somehow to secure a North Bronx apartment in a massive complex with very few minority families at the time. My parents felt incredibly fortunate to raise their daughters in such a good and safe neighborhood, but they also had no delusions about the real world. My mother's lobby rules weren't given out of meanness or malice. They were intended to protect our innocence from conceivable prejudices, from people we assumed would not embrace minorities, while also teaching us not to feed into others' biases and perceptions about minority children.

My parents were both raised in a small town in Puerto Rico called Juncos, but they did not meet one another until they were young adults living in New York City, trying to navigate a better life. Both were bright and smart, but each had limited resources. My dad was recruited from Puerto Rico at the age of 17 to pick tomatoes at a farm in New Jersey. My mother left Puerto Rico right after high school due to the lack of opportunities at the time and began her working career as a seamstress in a factory. My father went on to enroll in the military, where he served in the army. I was born in Manhattan, and we lived in the city until I completed first grade, which is when my parents decided to go back to Puerto Rico.

My strong sense of fairness began to emerge during those early years and continued to develop throughout my life. I didn't know a word of Spanish when we moved to Puerto Rico because we were raised speaking English in New York. I was supposed to be in the second grade, but because I didn't know Spanish, they held back my progress by placing me half day in the first‐grade class and half day in the second‐grade class. From that very young age, I found myself in an environment where I did not feel smart. One day the teacher asked me in Spanish to look at a page in the math book. I didn't understand her instructions, so she hit my hand with a ruler. It was all very confusing for me. Eventually, school did get better, and I learned Spanish. But when I was in sixth grade, my parents suddenly decided to move us back to New York, and of course I had forgotten all of my English by that time.

Upon moving back, I had to go to a junior high school in the Bronx, which was very different and challenging for me. I was a skinny little girl with long, wavy, thin hair and big glasses. As with most girls that age, I grappled with my self‐confidence. There were days that I thought I was the cutest thing on earth and other days when I struggled to find even one good quality about the girl in the mirror. Because I didn't know any English upon returning to New York, they placed me in a special education class instead of an English as a Second Language (ESL) class. I was in a classroom with kids who had behavioral issues and I felt intimidated every day. I couldn't understand what others were saying, so I would just sit there and mimic what the other students were doing. I saw kids drawing on a desk, so I drew on a desk, too. But I'd be the one who got sent to the principal's office. The principal's secretary, a white woman who understood a little bit of Spanish and would speak with me while waiting for the principal, was the only one who realized that I was in the wrong class. She told the administrators that I did not belong in special education, and they moved me into a mainstream class.

Things remained challenging, though. One day, I got up the courage to raise my hand and try to say something. The teacher said to the class, “Can someone explain to Nellie how we speak in this country?” It was so humiliating at the time, but it infuriates me now. She said “this country” as if Puerto Rico isn't a commonwealth of the US. As if I'm not an American citizen. If I had been fluent in English, I probably would have given that teacher a much‐needed lesson about US territories.

I became aware of bias and prejudice outside of school as well. At the time, my father worked at the US Postal Service. It was a huge deal for him. Getting a government job with a pension was a significant step towards financial security. There weren't many minorities working at the postal service in the late '60s and early '70s. There was a lot of racial tension and my father experienced racism firsthand. Being called derogatory names like “spic” was commonplace. But my father learned to tolerate the ignorance because he understood the bigger goal of providing for his family. He learned to lay low, not draw attention to himself, and simply do his job. I often wonder how much he was forced to endure and what inner struggles he dealt with while doing so. My dad was larger than life in my eyes, an avid reader, and the smartest person I knew.

My mom had her own strengths as well. Her skills as a seamstress were unparalleled. She would design patterns and sew beautiful clothes for my sister and me. She had endless potential, but her reality was limited to factories in the garment district of New York City, where the working conditions were far from desirable. Once, while I was in college, I tried to surprise her at work. I had never been to her job before, but I was going to be in the area, so I decided to go see her at the factory on 14th Street. As the doors opened to my mother's floor, I was saddened by the number of people crowded together working with almost no personal space. Huge fans blew dust from the fabrics around in the air. I saw my mom and told the man at the door that I was there to see her. In a very intimidating manner, he demanded to know why. I was so thrown off by his aggression that I just left without speaking to my mom.

At home, the nurturing was always on overdrive, and my parents created an environment abundant with love. I always felt safe and protected in our home. My mother worked during the day and my dad worked at night, so there was always a parent in the house watching over us. We were raised with discipline, religion, home cooking, chores, games, and cultural awareness. Latin music played every Sunday afternoon and serenaded us into the night. I learned to dance salsa standing on my dad's feet while he danced around our living room, spinning me around to the rhythm of those soul‐captivating beats. Those days taught me to love salsa and I have danced it throughout my life. It's become a “happy place” that I still turn to when I need to feel centered and grounded.

Recognizing the Limits to Reaching My Full Potential

Although I reminisce about my childhood with fondness, I also recognize the insularity of my upbringing. It disadvantages a child not to have experiences outside of their neighborhood. For a while, my entire world encompassed a few blocks. That type of limitation can keep a child from reaching their full potential. It's a loss that you don't even recognize when growing up; at least my sister and I didn't. How can you know that there is a world full of incredible opportunities when you've never been exposed to the broader possibilities?

As a teenager living in the Bronx, I created a narrative for myself that excluded the things that I never expected to attain. I kept a mental list of possessions and experiences that were not meant for people like me. We didn't grow up with a lot of disposable income. We couldn't afford a new car, so my dad had an old used car he treasured. It had a gaping hole in the floor of the driver's side, which my dad covered with several pieces of cardboard. But we never felt sad, concerned, or even embarrassed by it. Instead, we laughed and called it our Flintstones car. My dad appreciated that old car so much that he protected it from thieves by hooking a thick chain from the steering wheel to the brakes and placing a huge lock across the steering wheel. “Gotta make sure the car is still here tomorrow,” he would say. My sister and I laughed at the thought of someone actually wanting to steal that car. But my father protected it as if it was the most expensive and luxurious car in the world. I learned to drive in that car, and looking back, I appreciate how my father took such great care of the things he was able to afford.

Because I didn't grow up having what seemed like luxuries, the thought of owning a home with a beautiful picket fence felt too far‐fetched to me. Being able to wear diamond earrings or elegant pearls was beyond my imagination. I didn't allow myself to dream beyond my surroundings, and I sometimes wonder if I wanted to protect myself from the possible disappointments of dreaming big. Two self‐imposed questions rescued me from remaining captive in the “limited belief” cycle: Why not me? Why not for me? I wanted answers that would point me towards more, help me break free of limitations, and encourage me to see possibilities through a broader and unfamiliar lens.

While my self‐imposed unattainable list was extensive, I felt a pressing inner desire for more. I knew the inner sense of restlessness that I constantly felt was something I didn't have the ability or energy to ignore. I felt that I was different, and the expectations placed on me by my family and friends felt high and grandiose. I desperately wanted to make my parents proud. I wanted to provide for them. I angrily began to reject the notion of settling for what my surroundings dictated. I wasn't willing to accept the TV images that showcased Latinas as maids or crime victims. I wanted to believe that I deserved more. But I also didn't relate to the images that showcased attractive white women as professionals or well‐groomed, stay‐at‐home moms. It was all quite conflicting. The news was filled with troubling stories about minority communities, but I was determined to achieve something different.

My parents had hopeful but guarded expectations of the educational system. They wanted to believe that it would fairly educate and guide their daughters, but they also understood the reality for Latina girls in a public school with a high percentage of minority students being taught by predominantly Caucasian teachers. They had experienced the harsh realities of racism firsthand, and my dad refused to let us be naïve about it. In a very gentle but calculated way, he planted a seed about the racism he believed we would experience. His words captured my attention. “Teachers are not very interested or vested in your learning. You are a minority,” my dad would say in his typical slow‐paced, preachy tone, while looking over his glasses. “For that reason, you need to try harder. Teaching kids like you is not their priority.” The message was not an angry one, just plainly laid out as an effective way of teaching us that we had been entrusted with a greater responsibility and burden simply because of who we were or what we represented.

Each time I would hear him say it, I would ask myself, “Could that really be true?” I wanted to reject such an awful reality. As a teenager, I really wanted to believe that others, and particularly my teachers, had an interest in my well‐being. But the uneasiness that my parents experienced about the education that my sister and I would receive turned out to be accurate. The educators that they entrusted with our young minds did the very minimum when it came to shaping our futures. I had no clue how to differentiate between Ivy League, private, state, or city colleges. I had no understanding about the importance of the SATs. My sole memory leading up to the SAT is that of my homeroom teacher's daily reminders to show up with two No. 2 sharpened pencils if we wanted to be admitted to the test. There were no discussions about my interests or majors. In fact, the one meeting that I did have with my senior year guidance counselor about my interests turned out to be more damaging than useful.

I walked into his office and sat on the hard wooden chair across from him. I remember looking at his desk, intrigued by all of the different objects. From the paperwork and colored folders to the glass paperweight, the entire setting screamed of intelligence and success to me. I had such high expectations for our conversation. What would he recommend that I pursue? Teaching had been on my mind a lot. During my ninth‐grade year, my father came home with a manual typewriter that he found in a trash bin. He cleaned it, adjusted the ribbon, and presented it to me. “Nellie, I want you to learn how to type,” he said. “It will help you find a good job someday.” I laid a blanket on the floor, placed that beautiful black typewriter on top of it, and began tapping away on those keys. I later took a typing class that I loved, and I still vividly remember the synchronized tap of typewriter keys as the teacher walked around calling out letters to practice. The way the teacher commanded that room had truly inspired me to become a teacher myself.

Sitting in my guidance counselor's office eager for guidance, I expected to hear the path to my future teaching career or another intriguing option. I had my notebook open and was ready to take notes. I gave him an inquisitive look and a shy smile of anticipation as he began to speak. “Nellie, after graduation, I recommend that you apply for a cashier in a department store.” I almost gasped, and I immediately felt deflated. I wanted to be a teacher and my guidance counselor had just crushed that vision. I am still saddened by that memory. I vividly remember walking out of the room feeling completely devalued and confused. I wondered if he advised students who didn't look like me to go work in a department store instead of applying to college. Did he dash their hopes and dreams with one sentence? Probably not. Why didn't he see me as worthy of more? What right did he have to underestimate my life and abilities?

Thankfully, someone else saw fit to do the job that my guidance counselor failed to do that day. On my way home, I ran into an acquaintance named Linda who was a few years older than me. She mentioned that she had recently graduated from LaGuardia Community College with an associate's degree as a legal secretary and was loving her new job. She seemed so happy and accomplished, which was exactly what I wanted for my life. That conversation sparked something in me and gave me a plan: I would apply to LaGuardia Community College. This is where I chose a different path, one where my determination blossomed as I increasingly recognized my potential. I began to resist the societal limitations that, spoken or unspoken, had been clearly defined for me. My parents had surrounded me with love and a strong sense of self‐worth. Though I didn't recognize it as a child, those loving deep roots had been directly combating the negativity I experienced outside of the home.