You Good, Tho? | Part 1: The Straw

Dispatches from Black Professionals Doing the Most in Rooms That Deserve the Least

Part 1: The Straw

I heard someone say the worst part of being the only Black woman in the room is that the room thinks it’s doing you a favor. Like you’re lucky we let you in. Like smile, say thank you, don’t make it awkward.

Simone didn’t want applause. She didn’t want to be The First, The Only, The Exception. She wanted to do her work. Do it well. Go home. Maybe even rest.

But instead, she got this.

It happened on a Tuesday, because of course it did. Tuesdays have the nerve. Tuesday is just Monday’s ugly sister. Simone led the meeting because that’s what she does. The deck was tight. The timeline was clean. The room was full of people who had built careers off her competence.

When it was over, she didn’t expect applause. She just expected to walk out of that room with her dignity intact.

Her boss caught her by the door.

Great job, Simone. Just maybe next time, watch your tone a little. It can feel a bit intense.

Her tone.

Not her analysis.
Not her strategy.
Her tone.

And here’s the part that sticks with her. She smiled. Nodded. Said, Thanks for the feedback.

She replayed it later in her head. The meeting. The comment. Her smile. She smiled. Because what else was she supposed to do.

In the bathroom mirror, she mouthed the words she didn’t say. Watch your bias. Watch your fragility. Watch how quick you are to shrink me while you build yourself up on my back.

But in the room. She smiled.

When Simone got home that night, she took off her earrings and sat in the dark. She didn’t cry. She didn’t rant. She just sat there. Empty. Tired in a way that sleep doesn’t fix.

And when a friend texted: You good, tho? She typed: Yep.

As a therapist, here’s the thing. What Simone felt wasn’t overreaction. It was accumulation. Every tone check. Every you’re so articulate. Every wow, you’re direct. Microaggressions don’t hit hard because they’re loud. They hit hard because they’re endless. And sometimes, the straw isn’t heavy. It’s just the last damn one.

This is the kind of harm that messes with Black mental health in ways we don’t always have the language for. It is the drip, drip, drip of devaluation that becomes internalized anxiety, hypervigilance, fatigue. It is why we lie awake replaying conversations. It is why we brace ourselves before speaking up. Microaggressions don’t just wound. They erode. And in today’s climate, where cultural attacks on Blackness are louder, bolder, and more organized, the weight hits harder. Every watch your tone lands on top of a mountain of other aggressions, not in isolation.

As an I/O psychologist who has worked with organizations trying and often failing to create healthy workplaces, let me be clear. When a Black woman is told to watch her tone, what is being silenced isn’t aggression. It is assertion. It is clarity. It is unapologetic excellence.

The innuendo is loud if you are listening. We are okay with your brilliance as long as it doesn’t outshine ours. We want your input as long as it doesn’t disrupt our comfort. We value diversity as long as it stays quiet, agreeable, and grateful.

They don’t want Simone meek because she is too loud. They want her meek because she is too powerful.

Workplaces like this don’t break Black voices overnight. They grind them down slowly. With smiles. With feedback. With tone policing dressed up as professionalism.

This isn’t about collaboration. It is about control. And until these cultures stop confusing Black confidence with confrontation, they will never be places where Black talent can thrive. ###

~ Dr. Dionne Mahaffey is an organizational psychologist, licensed therapist, writer, professor, ex tech-exec and award winning entrepreneur.