Gen Z: We're Here

There are a lot of tips out there for navigating the workforce as a young person in the office. Some of the advice points young professionals to avoid chatting too much as it’ll make colleagues perceive them as “overly social.” Other tips tell young professionals to accept advice and nuggets of wisdom from older, “more experienced” colleagues:

“Dress for the office, not like a kid.”

“Take risks but don’t make mistakes.”

“Earn respect!”

Our stories highlight the complexities of being the only one in professional spaces with unique identities in the workplace including age, gender, race, ability, etc. And, if our words resonate with you, we see you and we honor you. You belong in the professional world of work.

JAKE Small, Gen Z Career Educator (age 24)

I have a late birthday. Growing up, that meant I was always the youngest in my class. I remember my fifth grade teacher during the Fall Parent-Teacher Conference: Ms. Katan-Brown. She was eager to tell my mom that I was already reading on a 7th grade level. I remember my teacher’s mouth fell open with surprise when my mom said “...and he’s only nine.”?

In high school, I hit a growth spurt. While I was still the youngest, I quickly became the tallest among my peers. However, my height didn’t stop me from being the last one in my friend group to get a learner’s permit.

By college, I entered spaces expecting to be the youngest and the tallest in most peer groups. But as a kid who grew up in NYC, surrounded by the racial, ethnic, and cultural diversity of Queens, NY, I quickly learned that attending a small state school would mean learning to reckon with a new isolating factor – my Blackness.

Being the “only one” is nothing new to me.

The college I attended was a predominantly white serving and white bodied institution in Central New York. In many of my classes, I was one of only a handful of students of color. In my upperclassman years, as course sections grew smaller and more focused, I’d be the only Black student in a room of white faces.?

Being the only one of anything is never easy.?

Most systems are created to serve the majority. What that means is people with minoritized identities often get overlooked or underserved.?

As a Black professional on college campuses, I’ve had to fight the internalized feelings that I am an imposter in this industry. I know these feelings are wrong. Although I may be the youngest and Blackest and Queerest person on many of my teams, I know I belong here – but sometimes, I need to remind myself of that fact. And, it is my duty to hold the door open behind me for others who share my most salient identities.

In my current role, I help to guide the hiring protocol for my office. This new responsibility has given me the chance to inform culture and practice. I have been the only Black professional on every team I have served… until now. I have been the youngest person on every team I have served… until now. I’m usually the only person on my team to represent a Gen Z professional perspective… until now.?

In positions of leadership and authority, it is important to hire people with perspectives and identities that contribute to the diversity of your organization and represent the population you are serving.?

I’ve experienced racism and racial prejudice at work. I’ve experienced ageism and age discrimination. I’ve had faculty and staff partners diminish my excellence, dismiss my achievement, and take credit for things I created. I’ve had colleagues assume I was a student or assume I was in the ‘wrong meeting’ after months of being on a shared committee. I’ve had campus partners call me by the name of the only other young Black male professional on campus with locs. Call these microaggressions or just straight up ignorance, regardless, it hurts.?

My identities inform my praxis. My diverse lived experiences, academic backgrounds, and social/personal identities give me a unique perspective at work. My presence in a meeting may feel uncomfortable for others, but that will have to be okay.

Angela Richard, Gen Z Career Educator (age 22)

Being the “only one,” to me, means that I have something unique to offer to a space or to an idea. Mixed with the inherent wisdom and lived experiences that come with being the “only one” are feelings of isolation, tokenism, and baggage.

How do I, then, make the most of my offerings and identity when these realities come into play? I’d argue I’ve had plenty of time to figure it out, and, at the very least, attempt to answer that complex question.

I’ve been “the youngest” ever since I can remember. Seriously. In preschool, I was 2 years-old going into the 3 year-old group. Thus, I was (one of) the youngest throughout my elementary, middle, and high school years. I still fit into this category in college. I didn’t turn 21 until my fourth and final year. I’ve been given a kid’s menu at restaurants more than I’d like to admit. Students I’ve taught have mistaken me for a middle or high school student. Whether it’s getting drinks or signing up for an event, I’ve had many instances where it’s presumed I’m too young.

And, I’ve always been told I’ll appreciate people mistaking me for someone who’s younger when I’m older. I’ve always taken that comment as having more to do with my physical features and appearance – news flash, I have wrinkles and smile lines at the ripe age of 22, everything’s fine.

However, I’ve never appreciated being mistaken for a younger age than I am. It’s always given me feelings of inferiority and imposter syndrome.

I still find myself questioning, “Do I really deserve this? Am I worthy of being in this space?”

Those are two big questions, and they certainly stem from other aspects of my life and the ways I’ve had to navigate the world. I know, deep down, that I’m more than deserving and worthy of the positions I’ve held and the places I’ve been able to grow within.

It doesn’t mean, though, that these questions don’t often creep in and overwhelm my capabilities. In my mind, one negative thought or presumption can outweigh one-hundred positive thoughts. I know I’m not isolated in this conditioned behavior, but I have learned how to appreciate my offerings in my professional space, especially in an industry that operates from tradition and historic frameworks.

This approach is not unique to me, but to so many fellow Gen Z professionals, and I embrace that we bring our values and our human selves to the forefront of our work. I show up everyday with my values at the forefront of my work. Before operations and expectations come my nonnegotiables. I’m much more interested in coming from a place of empathy and prioritizing human needs over checking some boxes and making sure deliverables are met by the end of the day.?

Because so much of my work revolves around meeting with students, it’s of utmost importance to me to be present, prioritize their needs, allow them to maximize their time with me, and to be whomever they need me to be in the moment.

Alternatively, I could come to each student meeting prepared to operate from a place of transactional conversation and services, but instead, I choose to ask them about their day, establish a connection, and remind them that I hear them.

I remember walking into my current role on my first day. Funny enough, it was Valentine’s Day, and I remember it being bone-chillingly cold outside, with gusts of wind whipping down the Boston University campus, adding an additional layer of New England winter discomfort to my nerves and anticipation. Entering the office felt like a complete change of pace from my previous role, and I knew I was going to take a bit to acclimate to my new workplace.

“Will I be good enough for this role?” rang through my head, but more prominent than that were questions like, “What if I can’t demonstrate success? What does success even look like here? What if I don’t make any progress?” I was fixated on what my performance would look like, as so many young professionals are advised to arrive early, stay late, and pick up the extra lift, all to demonstrate their willingness, commitment, and drive for “making it” in the workforce.

But is that what arriving early, staying late, and picking up the extra lift really demonstrates? I came to terms with the fact that my abilities might be questioned, especially in a world where, more often than not, years of experience determine your worth. I also reminded myself that pushing through a “lack of experience” and overcoming imposter syndrome doesn’t mean sacrificing other aspects of my life to do good work.

I can demonstrate my capability during working hours in more ways than one. I can go beyond my job description by initiating projects and new ideas, rather than spending extra hours in the office and burning myself out in the process.

There’s much to grapple with when it comes to being the youngest person in the office, especially as this part of my journey intersects with my positionality as a first-generation, low-income student navigating the early stages of my career.?

I hope that my reflection on being an “only” in a space full of “manys” can offer reassurance and ease. Learning how to release the grip that norms have on our identities and offerings can feel like breathing again for the very first time. Today, I’m breathing with more ease than I have in a while.