Engineering as an industry is notably dominated by white males. It’s no secret. Despite going into this field fully aware of this, I was still shocked to find myself in a room full of white males on the first day of my first internship. I could’t ignore the glaring juxtaposition. I have a particular affinity for fashion and love wearing professional attire to work. It makes be feel powerful and productive. I quickly realized I stuck out like a pinata at a funeral. Among a sea of polos and khakis, I sat in the room feeling out of place. I was probably 20 years younger than everyone. And I was most definitely the only woman and person of color.
I could’t shake the feeling of isolation for a long time. How did I get here?Am I supposed to be here? I don’t belong in this room. Maybe this isn’t the career path for me. I stopped wearing what I wanted. I was concerned the people in my office would judge me. I tried to join in on casual conversations, but their banter was centered around “the big game” or other topics that failed to peak my interest. So I stopped talking.
To be completely fair, my co worker were perfectly nice and supportive people who all tried to get me involved, but the shock of feeling so out of place was all consuming. I felt this was for a long, long time. Two whole years of self doubt. Was I supposed to move into a career with more people like me? Or should I stay in engineering, fill my closet with dry fit polos, and start watching ESPN? I contemplated those questions every single day.
Looking back on that time in my life, I realized I was looking past the opportunity for empowerment of being in the room. And I realized I was asking the wrong questions.
The fact of the matter is, I made it into the room. I found my way into a seemingly implementable fortress, and that’s what mattered. I should have been asking myself questions like “why aren’t there other people in the room who are like me?” Diverse people bring diverse thoughts and perspectives. Superficially I often thought “maybe if there were more people like me I could talk about reality competition TV shows and wear my funky patterned blazer without feeling so alone.” I soon began to realize there was so much more to shed light on.
Making it into the room is only step one. Step two is opening the door and letting other people in. It’s about pulling up a chair and inviting people to take a seat. I realize now that being in that room put me in a place to make change. I could sit idle. I could pretend to “be one of the guys.” I could assimilate to the notion of “white professionalism.” Or I could do everything in my power to open that door. There is power in making it into the room, and with great power comes great responsibility. My goals should not be limited or solely focused on opening that door to people like me, it should be focused on opening that door for everyone.
I look back now and realize I should have been focusing on who was missing from the room and asking myself why. Where are my other BIPOC people? Where are my disabled people? Where are my LGBTQ+ people? Where are my women? Where are the other fresh young minds?
In corporate America, people avoid acknowledging lack of diversity because its awkward. But it has become the physical embodiment of the phrase “I see no color.” I need people to notice color right now, because we are clearly missing it in the engineering industry. When I entered the room on my first day of work, I should have been myself from the beginning. Hiding is complacency. Sure, I would have felt judged, but the more I shake things up and open people’s eye on the range of people they are missing out on, the more likely they are to start asking themselves these questions too. They might start out by asking “who hired her?” or “she’s not like other people here,” but through hard work and an open dialog, those questions can quickly become “why aren’t there more people like her here?” I want people to notice I’m different. I want them to realize that I’m the only one. Because that’s the problem. I shouldn’t be the only one. I have a responsibility to prepare people before they enter the room so they aren’t caught off guard. I have a responsibility to tell people why it is so important to be themselves when they enter the room and to avoid feeling the need to hide or assimilate, because our temporary discomfort is the only thing that will lead to change.
Exclusion from the room is not intentional. It’s a systematic issue that we have been complacent in. But it should be noted that in our current state, complacency only fosters an environment that allows exclusion. We should constantly be having conversations about the extreme lack of Black people in the engineering field. We should talk the lack of diversity in academia and higher education in general, which is highly attributed to systemic poverty and people in the community who are fighting to stay alive every single and don’t have the privilege to “just work harder” to get ahead. Everyone has to get comfortable talking about these issues, even when people who are experiencing these injustices aren’t in the room, because we need to be aware that we have all benefited from a system that allowed us enter the room and to have a seat at the table. The same system that has constantly worked against the black community for hundreds of years.
Today, I’m focusing my time and energy as an engineer to open that door for the people who are yet to come. As new faces enter the room and look around, they may find themselves in a similar place that I was in – realizing that they are the only one – and I want to be there to encourage them to be themselves. I wanted them to think about who else is missing. And I want them to make it a constant mission to opening that door for others too.
