Kay sat across from her son, James, at the kitchen table, sipping her coffee. He’d been home for the weekend, but there was a heaviness to his mood that she couldn’t ignore. As someone who had worked in organizational change management for years, Kay recognized the signs—he was wrestling with something. And knowing her son, it was more than just the typical challenges of starting a new job.
“How’s work going?” she asked, keeping her tone casual but probing gently.
James shrugged, his eyes fixed on the plate in front of him. “It’s... fine. I guess.”
Kay raised an eyebrow. “You guess? What’s really going on, James?”
He sighed, setting down his fork. “It’s just... I don’t know. I’ve only been there a couple of months, but sometimes it feels like I’m only there because I’m Black. Like they hired me just to meet some diversity quota. It’s hard to tell if they actually value me or if I’m just the ‘Black guy’ on the team, you know?”
Kay set her coffee down and leaned in. “So you feel like you’re a token?”
James nodded slowly, his frustration clear. “Yeah, like I’m just there to make them look good. Every time there’s a discussion about diversity, it’s like they point to me as proof they’ve got it all figured out. But I’m not sure they actually want to hear what I have to say. It feels... shallow.”
Kay sighed, understanding all too well. “James, that feeling is real. What you’re describing is classic tokenism. It’s when organizations focus on having visible diversity—like having you on the team—but don’t put in the work to make sure that diversity means something. It’s all about optics, not true inclusion.
James sat back, frowning. “But how do I deal with that? I don’t want to just be their ‘diverse hire.’ I want to contribute and make a real impact. But right now, it feels like they only see me for what I look like.”
“That’s the heart of it, isn’t it?” Kay said, nodding. “The trap of tokenism is that it reduces you to your identity, but only in the most superficial way. And that can really mess with your sense of self, make you question who you are and why you’re even there.”
James stared out the window, the wheels in his mind clearly turning. “Yeah... it’s like, sometimes I’m not even sure who I’m supposed to be at work. Am I there to challenge things? Am I supposed to just be quiet and blend in? Who do I say I am in a space that only seems to care about how I fit their image?”
Kay smiled softly, recognizing the deeper question he was asking. “That’s exactly where the power lies, James. Knowing who you are—not just at work, but in life—is what keeps you grounded. When you know who you are, you don’t let other people’s limited perceptions define you. They might try to put you in a box, but you’ve got to be clear about who you say you are. That’s how you take back your power.”
James nodded but still looked uncertain. “But how do I do that, Mom? How do I figure that out, especially in a place where I feel like I’m being boxed in?”
Kay leaned forward, her gaze steady. “You have to ask yourself, ‘Who am I when no one else is watching? What do I value, and what do I stand for, whether or not people acknowledge it?’ That’s the core of it. It’s not about who they say you are—it’s about who you know yourself to be. And when you lead with that clarity, the rest follows.”
James was quiet for a moment, absorbing her words. “So, you’re saying I need to define myself on my own terms, not by how they see me?”
“Exactly,” Kay said. “They might see you as just the Black guy on the team, but you’re so much more than that. You’re talented, smart, creative—you’ve got a lot to offer. When you know that, when you carry that sense of who you are, it changes everything. Even if they don’t see it right away, you do. And that’s what matters most.”
James looked thoughtful. “Yeah, but what if they never see it? What if they’re not really interested in what I bring to the table?”
Kay smiled, though her eyes were serious. “Then you have to decide if that’s the kind of place where you want to invest your time and energy. You’re not responsible for changing a system that isn’t ready to change. But you are responsible for protecting your own sense of worth. The power of knowing yourself is that it gives you options. If they don’t see your value, it might be time to find a space that does.”
James nodded slowly. “That’s deep. I guess I never thought about it like that—about how knowing who I am is really the key to not feeling like just a checkbox.”
“It absolutely is,” Kay said. “When you walk into a room knowing who you are, you’re not waiting for someone else to validate you. You’re not dependent on their approval. And even if the system doesn’t recognize your value, you still know your worth.”
James looked at her, a small smile forming. “I guess you’ve dealt with this a lot, huh?”
Kay chuckled. “More than you know. But I’ve learned that no matter what they try to reduce you to, when you know yourself, you’re unstoppable. The world will always have its labels. What matters is how you define yourself.”
James sat back, a newfound determination in his eyes. “Yeah... I think I’m starting to get it. I’m not just here to meet some diversity quota. I’ve got something real to offer, and I need to own that.”
Kay reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “Exactly. And when you do, you’ll see that no one can take that from you. So, the next time you’re in that room, don’t just show up as the ‘Black guy’ they hired—show up as James. Show up as who you say you are.”
James smiled, feeling lighter. “Thanks, Mom. I needed that.”
Kay smiled back, her heart swelling with pride. “Anytime, James. Just remember, when you know yourself, you’ll never be a token. You’ll always be the full, powerful person you were meant to be.”
“Whatever follows, ‘I am…’ will come and find you.” — Joel Osteen, Oprah Winfrey.
© K. Joseph 2024, All Rights Reserved.
This story rose up in response to a prompt for a Fall Writing Series: