Open Letter to My Colleagues

In light of recent political events, I have been struggling with what to do with all of the feelings of frustration, anxiety, and apathy that come over me like waves in the ocean at any given time of day.  As a Black woman, it is hard not to feel disappointed in my neighbors, co-workers, and even church members who voted for a person who cares about no one but himself and guises it as Christian and patriotic beliefs.  

I wrote an open letter to my co-workers to express how I (and probably thousands of other Black women) feel.  In full transparency, I have not sent the letter out yet.  I’m still trying to figure out if I will send it, and if I do, am prepared for any potential repercussions.  

Here is my open letter to my colleagues:

Dear Colleagues,

I hope this letter finds you well. I’m writing to share something that has been weighing heavily on me and many others who look like me: Black women are tired. This exhaustion is not physical alone; it is emotional, mental, and deeply rooted in our daily experiences in a world that often dismisses or diminishes us.

In today's political and social climate, it is nearly impossible to ignore the challenges Black women face. We are expected to be resilient, unshaken, and strong in the face of systemic racism, gender inequality, and microaggressions. Yet, this “strength "often comes at the expense of our well-being. The burden of advocating for equity, enduring coded language, and constantly navigating spaces that may feel unwelcoming or dismissive is draining.

These feelings are not confined to the headlines or social media; they follow us into the workplace. Regardless of how professional or composed we appear, many of us are grappling with unspoken pressures. These include being overlooked for opportunities, having our ideas undervalued, or being expected to educate others on issues of race without acknowledgment of the emotional labor it takes.

This letter is not about politics. It is about humanity. It’s a reminder that we are all people first, and as people, we have a responsibility to care for one another. Regardless of your political beliefs, I ask you to pause and reflect. When was the last time you checked in with the Black women or men you work alongside? Have you taken the time to ask, “How are you really doing?” in a way that invites honesty?

Honest conversations matter. They build trust, foster understanding, and create a workplace where everyone feels valued. Checking in doesn’t mean you have to solve the world’s problems or even fully understand the experiences of Black women. It simply means showing up with empathy and a willingness to listen.

These conversations may feel uncomfortable or unfamiliar, but growth often does. By engaging openly and authentically, you send a powerful message: “I see you, and I care about your well-being.” This small act can have a profound impact.

Black women are not asking for pity. We are asking for partnership, allyship, and understanding. We need workplaces where our voices are heard, and our humanity is recognized. Together, we can create that space, but it requires all of us to step up, extend grace, and be intentional about fostering inclusion.

Thank you for taking the time to read this. I hope it encourages you to have meaningful conversations, not just with Black women and men, but with anyone whose experiences differ from your own. In doing so, we can work toward a workplace and world where exhaustion gives way to empowerment.

Sincerely,

Melinda