Why Are We Here?

I recently had a conversation that brought tears to my eyes.

The topic wasn’t new. In fact, it was one I’ve heard in different forms throughout my life. But this time, something about it landed differently.

I won’t share the person’s name out of respect for their privacy, but I do want to share part of their story.

They spoke about stepping up whenever they were asked.

Taking on additional responsibilities.

Solving problems.

Leading when leadership was needed.

Delivering results.

And doing it well.

Yet somehow, the appreciation never seemed to come. No meaningful acknowledgment. No recognition. No indication that their contributions were truly seen.

What made the conversation even more difficult was that the leader in question was also a person of color.

At one point, they wondered aloud if some people adopt an unspoken philosophy once they’ve reached a certain level:

“I made it. You’ll have to make it on your own.”

Not a hand extended.

Not a door held open.

A door closed. Maybe even slammed.

Leaving others to find their own key.

They spoke about feeling as though they should simply be grateful to be where they are. Grateful for the compensation they receive. Grateful for the opportunity.

Yet they watch others earn significantly more for similar work.

They watch people in their twenties enter organizations at levels they spent years trying to reach.

They watch people speak freely without fear of retaliation.

They watch people receive opportunities because they knew someone, were connected to someone, or happened to be in the right circle at the right time.

Some are hired despite lacking qualifications.

Some remain employed despite behaviors that would quickly end someone else’s career.

And as they shared these experiences, I could feel tears forming in my eyes.

Not because I hadn’t heard similar stories before.

But because one thought kept repeating in my mind.

Why are we here?

Why are some people taught to believe this is acceptable?

Why are some people encouraged to take up space while others are encouraged to stay in their lane?

Why are some people taught to advocate for themselves while others are taught to be grateful for whatever they receive?

Why are some people allowed to be human while others are expected to be exceptional?

As I reflected on that conversation, I realized something else.

Being undervalued isn’t always about compensation.

Certainly, compensation matters. Fair pay matters. Equity matters.

But a person can be well paid and still feel unseen.

They can be given responsibility without authority.

Expected to lead without recognition.

Asked to carry burdens others never have to carry.

Trusted with the work, but not trusted with the opportunity.

Sometimes being undervalued looks like being excluded from conversations where decisions are made.

Sometimes it looks like watching someone less experienced move ahead because of relationships, timing, or access.

Sometimes it looks like having to prove yourself over and over again while others are assumed capable from the start.

Different circumstances.

Different salaries.

Different titles.

Yet often the same result.

A person wondering whether they are truly valued or simply useful.

I’ve written before about how giving grace can sometimes become giving permission.

There is a difference.

Grace allows room for mistakes, growth, and understanding.

Permission allows harmful patterns to continue unchecked.

Too often, people are expected to be the bigger person.

To rise above.

To let it go.

To remain professional.

To extend grace.

To keep proving themselves.

To keep waiting.

To keep hoping.

For people of color, these expectations can carry an additional weight. The pressure to work harder, stay quieter, be more grateful, and remain composed is often spoken without words. It is simply understood.

But they are not the only ones who experience being overlooked.

Many people know what it feels like to be underestimated, dismissed, taken for granted, or passed over for reasons that have little to do with their ability and everything to do with someone else’s perception.

And I find myself asking another question.

Do those who are continually asked to extend grace not deserve grace too?

Do they not deserve advocates?

Do they not deserve someone willing to say, “I see what is happening, and it isn’t right”?

Because the truth is that very few people succeed entirely on their own.

Most of us can point to someone who opened a door.

Someone who spoke our name in a room we weren’t in.

Someone who offered guidance.

Someone who made space.

Someone who advocated.

That isn’t weakness.

That’s humanity.

And perhaps that’s why this conversation stayed with me.

Because while individual success stories are inspiring, collective progress requires something more.

It requires us to care about who comes after us.

It requires us to recognize barriers we may no longer face but others still do.

It requires us to remember that reaching the top means very little if we pull the ladder up behind us.

It requires us to speak up when others are overlooked.

To create opportunities when we have the power to do so.

To remember that success is not diminished when it is shared.

Lord knows we need more people willing to advocate for one another.