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| ISSUE NO. 628 |
| Today's newsletter was written by a college dropout and culinary school graduate. Our guest columnist is a former cook, baker, chef, and sales manager. Harlem born and east coast bred, she now lives in Chicago with two quadrupeds, an ever-expanding headphone collection, and is open to new job opportunities. ON PAPER... I'm a success story. I work for a multi-million dollar company and have a job title that commands respect. I dropped out of high school, got my GED, and went to college. Then I dropped out of college and I went to culinary school. During my culinary career I worked for some truly talented, inspiring and renowned chefs. I even had my own food business for a while. When I changed careers I found a job that I loved. An absolute dream job. I was happy. But I was still, and I was raised to never be still. I was taught to always look for a job even when you have a job that you love. There’s always an opportunity waiting for you and if you don’t search for them how will you know what you’re missing. So I applied for a job that I was barely qualified for. I’d read somewhere that men apply for jobs when they’re only 60% qualified, but women only apply for a job if they meet the qualifications 100%. I took a chance, applied and was absolutely surprised when I got an interview. I showed up to that interview wearing professional clothes but made sure that I showed off the majority of my tattoos. I wore a scarf on my head, and kept my nose piercings in. I wasn’t going to get the job anyway, I reasoned, so why not be myself? Twenty minutes after I left the interview I got a call and was offered the job. I was moving up. That’s what we’re supposed to do, right? Hustle and grind. As a woman I’m supposed to make my way up the ladder and smash the glass ceiling. As a Black woman the ancestors tell me that every step I take, I’m bringing them with me. They remind me that it’s my responsibility to wedge that door open for the next Black woman. So I worked hard. I took online instruction to make me more valuable to my employers. I worked late, worked weekends, and responded to emails with a rapid rate unmatched by anyone else at the company. I did this for years, and for several different companies. Then came March of 2020. I came back from a trade show and days later my city was shut down due to the pandemic. The office was open, though. So I went to work. Breonna Taylor was murdered. I went to work. Covid came rampaging through the company. I went to work. George Floyd was murdered and I went to work. I was stopped by cops, intimidated, yelled at, followed by weird pickup trucks without identifying plates and I still went to work. My neighborhood was under constant surveillance and I still went to work. I tried to help others. I gathered donations from friends near and far and sent them to community organizations who were already doing the mutual aid work. I was spreading myself too thin. I wasn’t sleeping, and when I did sleep I was having nightmares. My hair started falling out. I was in serious decline and needed to make a change. I asked for a few days off. My boss said no. I asked to work from home. My boss said no. I had worked so hard, had gone above and beyond, and it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. So I started thinking about looking for a new job. My immediate instinct was to look for a position that would bring me a step higher on the ladder, or at the very least find a lateral move with exquisite benefits. Every time I found something that looked promising I would sike myself out of it. I started looking for the jobs that I was 100% qualified for and if I wasn’t able to tick all of the boxes, I didn’t apply. One day I went home and cried. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t able to find a job. I started internalizing and thinking I wasn’t good enough. I considered going back to college to get my Bachelor’s and then I could go to grad school and then, and then, and then. I was exhausted just thinking about it. I went to sleep crying. A month or so later I started writing down what I wanted in a job. I wrote down what the minimum income was that I would need to have to live in a roommate-free apartment, while continuing to pay off my 10 year old car, and keeping the cats in the finest kibble Petco can offer. Then I started writing down what my skills are. That was hard. Being honest about what I do well, what I do okayish, and what I absolutely shouldn’t put on my resume was incredibly hard. I have a lot of skills. Growing up my grandmother told me about the saying “Jack of all trades, but master of none”. She said that there’s more to the saying. The complete saying is “Jack of all trades a master of none, but oftentimes better than master of one”. So that’s how I’ve treated my career path. Ready and willing to learn the next thing. It’s one of the reasons I’ve been able to get to where I am. Why wear one hat at work when I can wear four? So how do I pick which skills to focus on? How do I decide which path to take? I am filled with doubt. And dread. Choosing to step off of the ladder and do what brings me joy and fulfillment is terrifying. What if I miss working in a corporate structure? What if I fail? On the other hand, what if I find joy, and purpose, and succeed on a different scale, a scale that doesn’t involve ladders and ceilings, and impressive job titles? What if I take this leap and find a more honest and joyful me on the other side? Is it worth the risk? I think it is. I’m ready. I deserve this. . . . We are thrilled and grateful to have collaborated with this contributor through our Share Your Voice initiative, an ongoing effort inspired by the #sharethemicnow movement. Yours in food, justice, and food justice, Tay + Dor artwork generated by Canva |
tidbits...resources on anti-racism, environmentalism and food culture AKA stuff we're reading / listening to / watching / noticing / thinking about / captivated by this Tuesday . . . |
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