The Weight of Misogynoir

Black women in leadership are no strangers to harm. We navigate professional spaces with ambition and expertise, only to face systemic neglect, dismissal, and outright hostility. My story is not just one of harm and resilience but one that echoes the experiences of countless Black women across industries.

At a previous workplace, I endured neglect, undermining, inequity, and even stalking—all while pouring my heart into a role that was more than a job to me. It was a calling. But understand something, this isn't just about one institution; it's about the systems that continue to harm Black women when we rise into leadership.

When I stepped into the role, I was full of hope. I wanted to make a difference in the lives of the students and staff I served. But quickly, I realized that my voice—my very presence—was seen as a problem.

A senior colleague made inappropriate comments about my wardrobe, undermined my work, and even cornered me in public spaces. He stole my intellectual contributions, presenting them as his own. When I reported these incidents to my supervisor, I was met with a dismissive, "He's like that with everyone." My expertise and concerns, my very safety were not taken seriously.

The dismissal reached new heights when I was harassed and accosted by a student—a terrifying experience that left me feeling unsafe at work. Again, my division's leader failed to act. No protocols were followed, leaving my safety—and the safety of my staff—at risk. Clearly, the system I worked so hard to uphold would not uphold me in return.

The neglect I experienced wasn't just personal, it was systemic and deliberate.

Misogynoir in the Workplace

It was misogynoir in action: the intersection of racism and sexism that uniquely affects Black women. Coined by scholar Moya Bailey, misogynoir encapsulates how we are simultaneously dehumanized for our race and gender, leaving us vulnerable to harm in professional and personal spaces alike (Bailey, 2010).

Consider Kamala Harris, the first Black and South Asian woman to serve as United States Vice President. Despite her historic achievements, she has faced relentless scrutiny, from critiques of her speaking style to questions about her competence—critiques that male colleagues with similar or lesser qualifications seldom face. Studies on gendered and racialized bias in politics show that Black women in leadership are often perceived as less "approachable" or "likable," contributing to a hostile public narrative (Brown, Ray, & Summers, 2022).

Or, take Beyoncé, a global icon and a master of her craft, who is subject to dismissal and disrespect even at the pinnacle of her career. Whether it's allegations that she's "overrated" or the erasure of her artistry in certain spaces, the message is clear: Black women are often undervalued, no matter their accomplishments. Research on Black women in entertainment highlights how, even at the pinnacle of success, their accomplishments are frequently trivialized, reflecting broader patterns of erasure in creative industries (Smith, Choueiti, & Pieper, 2018).

Women in HipHop face similar challenges in the music industry. Despite breaking records and redefining what it means to be a woman in rap, they are often caricatured and scrutinized more harshly than their male counterparts. Their story underscores how Black women's contributions are frequently diminished while their missteps are magnified. Analysis of misogynoir in music underscores how Black women are often celebrated for their success while being simultaneously criticized for their assertiveness or independence (Cooper, 2018).

These are just a few of the stories we know. How many more remain untold? Research shows that Black women are more likely to report feeling overlooked or undervalued at work. We are disproportionately impacted by workplace discrimination, left unsupported in leadership, and punished for advocating for ourselves (Harvard Business Review, 2020).

Leadership Challenges and Inequities

As I moved into higher leadership roles, the inequities became even starker. After I advocated for equitable pay, I was removed from key committees—roles that directly impacted my ability to do my job. It wasn't just a professional roadblock; it was an attack on my credibility and authority. The message was clear: fighting for fairness would not be tolerated.

When the opportunity to apply for a permanent leadership position arose, I was told that a "fair" interview process was required "for ethical reasons." Yet, I knew the truth: a male colleague had previously been promoted to the same role without any such process. By this time, I had served as Associate Director for over a year and Interim Director for six months. I had led with integrity, vision, and care. And still, my qualifications were treated as though they were up for debate.

Unfortunately, this is the reality for many Black women in leadership. Research indicates we are underrepresented in executive leadership positions, often facing systemic barriers that hinder their advancement. Despite being overqualified and often outperforming their peers, we are routinely passed over for promotions or given fewer opportunities to lead. These barriers don't just impact our careers—they harm the communities and organizations we serve by stifling diverse voices and perspectives (Harvard Business Review, 2020).

Black women's leadership brings an intersectional lens to the work. We understand how race, gender, and other identities shape the experiences of those we lead (Crenshaw, 1989). Our ability to bridge these realities makes our contributions indispensable. Yet, when we advocate for inclusion, fairness, and accountability, we're labeled "difficult," "angry," or "too ambitious." In my case, it was "judgmental," "abruptly critical," and "uninformed," among others, when I questioned an outdated, inequitable policy. These labels aren't just harmful—they're silencing tactics designed to diminish our voices and maintain the status quo.

The Emotional Toll

The weight of dismissal of my experiences, inequity, and harm takes a profound toll on Black women's mental health. Studies reveal that Black women are at higher risk for anxiety, depression, and stress-related health issues due to systemic racism and sexism. The constant pressure to excel while enduring microaggressions, bias, and hostility create what psychologists call "weathering"—the cumulative effect of chronic stress on our minds and bodies (Geronimus et al., 2006).

For me, the constant dismissal chipped away at my confidence. I began to doubt my abilities, my worth, and even my purpose. The work I once loved became a source of pain. And this wasn't just a professional struggle—it was personal. Black women, especially those in leadership, often tie their identity and purpose to their work. Feeling devalued in those spaces feels like a betrayal of the self and the communities we care so deeply about.

The intersectionality of this harm cannot be overstated. We are navigating both racism and sexism, compounded by expectations to "be twice as good" while receiving half the support. We are often expected to be the emotional backbone of our workplaces—mentoring, mediating, and managing crises—all while our own needs go unmet. It creates a cycle of burnout and emotional exhaustion that leaves little room for self-care or healing (Geronimus et al., 2006).

Yet, despite these challenges, Black women continue to lead, create, and thrive. We speak up not because it's easy but because it's necessary. Reclaiming our voices and our narratives is an act of resistance—a way to push back against systems that seek to silence us. The power of speaking up is transformative. It allows us to shed the weight of others' expectations and reclaim our time, our purpose, and our joy.

Building Better Workplaces

Research on the power of storytelling—what critical race theorists call Counterstories—shows that sharing our truth is a way to challenge systemic inequities. We reclaim our power and inspire others to do the same by telling our stories. Delgado and Stefancic (2012) emphasize that Counterstories provide a framework to center marginalized voices, disrupt dominant narratives, and create pathways for systemic change. This is why Black women's voices are so essential. They carry the wisdom of resilience, the vision of equity, and the courage to demand better.

Leaving that environment was one of the hardest things I've ever done, but it was also the first step toward healing. I embarked on my own Eat, Pray, Love journey, facing my buried emotions, rebuilding my confidence, and rediscovering my purpose.

Out of that pain came The Heart of Her Story, my podcast. It became a platform where I could reclaim my narrative and amplify the voices of other Black women. Sharing our truth allows us to reclaim our power and rewrite the narrative. My story is one of harm and healing but not unique. It reflects the broader reality of what Black women face daily in workplaces where their leadership and contributions are undervalued. But it doesn't have to be this way.

To those in positions of power: Do better. Listen to Black women. Believe us. Support us. Advocate for equity in hiring, pay, and workplace culture. When given the space to thrive, the change we create benefits everyone.

Healing isn't linear. There are days I still feel the weight of what happened. But there are also days I feel triumphant—when I remember that I survived, that I am rebuilding, that I am thriving. This journey has taught me to trust myself again, to honor my voice, and to push for spaces where care is not the exception but the rule. Sharing our stories matters—because through them, we reclaim our power and build a future where Black women, and women everywhere, can lead and succeed.

References

Bailey, M. (2010). They aren’t talking about me…: Misogynoir and the policing of Black women in reality TV.

Brown, N., Ray, R., & Summers, E. (2022). Gendered racism in politics: Perceptions of Black women leaders. Journal of Political Science.

Cooper, B. (2018). Eloquent rage: A Black feminist discovers her superpower. St. Martin's Press.

Crenshaw, K. (1989). Demarginalizing the intersection of race and sex: A Black feminist critique of antidiscrimination doctrine, feminist theory, and antiracist politics. University of Chicago Legal Forum, 140, 139–167.

Delgado, R., & Stefancic, J. (2012). Critical race theory: An introduction. New York University Press.

Eat, Pray, Love reference: Gilbert, E. (2006). Eat, pray, love: One woman’s search for everything across Italy, India and Indonesia. Penguin Books.

Geronimus, A. T., Hicken, M., Keene, D., & Bound, J. (2006). "Weathering" and age patterns of allostatic load scores among Blacks and Whites in the United States. American Journal of Public Health, 96(5), 826–833.

Harvard Business Review. (2020). Why Black women are underrepresented in executive leadership.

Smith, S. L., Choueiti, M., & Pieper, K. (2018). Inequality in 1,100 popular films: Examining portrayals of gender, race, and age. USC Annenberg Inclusion Initiative.