A Black Doll, A Database, and the Death of Corporate Accountability

A Black doll labeled 'dirty' and hung as a 'metaphor for ugly database architecture' on a corporate engineer's Christmas tree. The doll itself is beautiful, wearing a delicate floral dress and displaying the kind of features toy companies long denied to Black children. The irony of using such a doll, one that represents progress in childhood representation, as a prop for a racist joke on a professional networking platform speaks volumes about corporate America's relationship with diversity in 2024.

In December 2024, a senior engineer at one of gaming's largest companies shared her Christmas decorations on LinkedIn. The post showed what she called a "dirty baby doll" found in an alley. It was a Black doll, hung on her tree, described as "a metaphor for ugly database architecture."

It's the casualness that hits you first. The way someone can turn trauma into a punchline. How easily a Black child's representation can be called "dirty" and hung from a tree, just to make a technical joke that could have been made any other way.

The logic crumbles under the slightest scrutiny. If you find a 'dirty' doll in an alley, why make it a centerpiece of your holiday decorations? Why photograph it? Why share it on LinkedIn? Christmas trees are curated spaces of joy and meaning. Every ornament tells a story. So what story was she really trying to tell by deliberately hanging a Black doll she called 'dirty' on her tree and sharing it with her professional network?

The answer reveals itself in the details: the careful framing of the photo, the performative nature of the post, the strategic deployment of tech humor as cover. This wasn't a careless mistake. It was a calculated choice - one that allowed plausible deniability while sending a clear signal to those who would understand it. In 2024, this is how certain professionals test the waters, seeing what kind of racism they can get away with under the guise of technical metaphors and holiday cheer

What happened next tells an even deeper story. Black women professionals, many working in tech themselves, responded with such careful grace. "The living room is gorgeous!" one began, before gently explaining why comparing a Black doll to trash might hurt people. Another softly pointed out the weight this image carries in our history. Each comment showed how to speak the truth while trying to be heard.

I didn't comment.

Not because I disagreed, but because I shouldn't have to.

One voice should have been enough. Two, plenty.

But watching the comments grow, I saw the familiar pattern. The burden of teaching, explaining, and pleading fell again on Black women. Something felt wrong about all of us having to say the same thing, over and over. We shouldn't need a chorus to be heard.

Yet there we were.

The Timing Matters

This moment feels heavy for a reason.

As we move toward 2025, watching the progress we fought for start to slip away, posts like these feel less like mistakes and more like tests. People checking what they can get away with in this "post-DEI" world we're sliding into.

These things hurt more now because we see what's happening. Companies quietly dropping their diversity programs haven't just taken resources from marginalized employees. It's made people bold in their disregard for us.

The gaming world makes this even more painful. Call of Duty reaches millions of players worldwide, including so many from the communities this post hurts. Yet here's an engineer, someone literally building the future of this game, hanging a Black doll from her tree and calling it dirty for laughs.

Sure, games might show more diverse characters on screen now. But behind the scenes? That's another story entirely.

When Black Women Speak, The Silence Speaks Louder

The engineer answered some comments. The light ones got emoji reactions and friendly replies. But those thoughtful, careful messages from Black women?

Nothing but silence.

This is how progress falls apart. Not in big dramatic moments, but in quiet dismissals. In the way some professionals feel so comfortable sharing racist images if they wrap them in technical language. In how Black colleagues can follow every rule of "professional communication" and still be ignored.

We Know This Story

We've watched it play out before. Companies flood their websites with diversity statements. They post about inclusion during Black History Month. Their executives share articles about equity on LinkedIn. But when someone points out real harm happening right now? Suddenly, they develop selective hearing.

When diversity becomes just another corporate trend instead of a real commitment, you see it in moments like these. In how comfortable people feel posting harmful things. In the silence that follows valid concerns. In how being held accountable becomes optional.

The Weight We Carry (And Why I Set It Down)

I watched my sisters write such careful responses. Each word was polished until it couldn't offend. No one yelled. No one cursed. They just offered care.

Care we shouldn't have to give in moments like this.

Black women shouldn't need to make our pain palatable. We shouldn't have to choose perfect words to explain why comparing a Black doll to trash hurts us.

So I didn't.

I chose not to add my voice. Not because I didn't care, but because I knew deeply that one voice should have been enough.

What This Says About Corporate Culture

Some will call this small. Just a doll. Just a joke. Just a misunderstanding.

But representation matters.

In an industry where Black voices are so rare, how we show up matters. How people hear us matters.

This isn't about "canceling" someone over a LinkedIn post. It's about building professional spaces where these things don't happen. Where pointing out harm leads to reflection, not silence.

The Quiet Fall of Accountability

As we watch 2025 approach and DEI programs disappear, this moment reminds us how fragile our progress always was.

The spaces we fought to make inclusive still let casual dehumanization slide, as long as it's wrapped in clever words.

The real question isn't whether this engineer meant to cause harm.

The question is why so many Black women had to point out the harm before anyone would listen.

The doll still hangs on the tree.

The post still lives on LinkedIn.

And corporate America just keeps scrolling.