Was I "too loud" or were you not loud enough?

“Why is your dad yelling?”?

“He’s not yelling. That’s just the way he talks.”

I was raised in a small Ohio town by two East Coast Jews. A place where being Jewish was…lonely…scary…ridiculed. I was raised by parents who never compromised their values or diminished themselves even when it could have made things easier. I love that about them.

But this isn’t a story about how I survived the insults, abuse, and fears of my childhood bullies.?

No, this is a story about being an adult, a successful professional who got told she talks “too loudly”…told she should “take it down a notch”…told her way of communicating is “too in your face” …told she’s “too East Coast”…“too Jewish”?

Ok, no one actually ever says “too Jewish.” Just like other microaggressions at work, the insults are draped in conversations about “professionalism” or “fit” or “culture.” But we know that these tropes are really grounded in uncomfortable differences and often perpetuate bias and discrimination. We can see the promises of DEI work get unraveled in just one “professionalism” talk.

This is about the present, about educated professionals in important cities and top tier universities and Fortune 500 companies repeating the same insults and slurs from my small town childhood, just in slightly more couched language.

I’ve written about microaggressions and have a successful career educating others how to address them at work. We discuss the common microaggressions each person faces and what to say when they come up. How to be prepared for them. I enjoy helping mentees find a path forward that feels right for them personally and keeps their career and relationships at work on track.?

I am paid to educate leaders and workplaces on important diversity work like psychological safety, unconscious bias, equity and inclusion. I’ve won awards for being someone who has success in the field.

Then, it happened to me.?

Like, really bad and I’m devastated. I am crying every day and short fused with my friends and family. I don’t want to do my other work because I’m afraid they think badly of me too. I am embarrassed to tell my friends because I should have known better. I should have said something sooner. I should have stood up for myself.

That’s the thing with microaggressions. They can be like a slow drip that taken one at a time can be easily wiped away. But taken together feel like a crushing wave. Described as “death by a thousand papercuts” microaggressions are the air many of us breathe when we work with people who don’t reflect on their assumptions and expectations for others who are different.

Sometimes the microaggressions are so silly and make the offensive party look so ridiculous you can’t help but laugh. Other times, the microaggression touches a deep spot inside of you that was always there. You have heard it so many times. You have learned to just take it and keep going. And then you realize that the pit in your stomach is the pile of comments you have swallowed and smiled through.?

Because it’s kind of true? Because you see it too. Because someone you admire and respect said it? Because you also kind of hate that part of you. Because you secretly wish you were more like them. More normal. More regular. Easier. Better. You wish you weren’t so much. You wanted the job. You know you could be good at it. You want to make a difference in the world. You want to bring your whole self to work. But in the end, you know you can’t succeed in that kind of environment, that the toll is too great.

My past success is a direct result of all my parts. My MBA training, my Midwestern home, my gender, my queerness, and my Jewishness. The Jewish part that got bullied on the playground. The Jewish part that didn’t have a Bat Mitzvah. The Jewish part that doesn’t even feel Jewish enough.

But I am also the Jewish parts that come from ancestors who ran in the middle of the night to escape death. Ancestors who didn’t. Ancestors who hid and fought back. Ancestors who locked arms side by side with others who were suffering. Ancestors who were always different no matter where they lived. Wandering in lands they didn’t really belong.??

I come from people who have always been “too much”. And thankfully, know when to take it up a notch. I come from people who use their loud voices to speak up for injustice. I come from people who demand better. Sometimes by getting in your face. Yes, we are people who can laugh about it too, but we still feel it deeply and can be hurt by your words.?

So, the next time you think I said too much too loudly about things that were unjust in this world ask yourself…was I "too loud" or were you not loud enough??