The Room Wasn't Built For You

By Natacha Montemuino, MD  ·  3 minute read  ·  Issue #2

The year was 2009. It was a warm summer morning in New York City and I was strolling around the East Village with my rescue dog, Bug-Z. I tied Bug-Z to the parking meter in front of a gourmet coffee shop to pop in for a seven dollar latte. As I waited for my latte, I recognized an attending physician whom I had briefly encountered during my medical school training. I said hello and introduced myself.

"I remember you!" He said. Then he turned to the woman he was sitting with and said enthusiastically "She was the only student at the hospital who wore her hair in a big afro."

I gave him a big smile to mask my discomfort but it was neither the first nor the last time that my hair was the subject of an awkward conversation. What struck me was that he thought it was a perfectly normal comment to share with me.

Years later

For the majority of my corporate career, I wore my hair straight. Then, one day, I decided to walk into the office with my naturally curly hair.

The head of the department I worked in, made a comment about my curly hairstyle as we crossed paths in the hallway that morning. I couldn't hear exactly what he said because his voice was slightly above a whisper but I knew it involved my hair. When I asked him to repeat what he said, he signaled for me to keep my voice down to avoid pulling the entire office into the discussion.

My hair was being noticed once again. But the conversations were never really just about my hair. My hair was the entry point. My hair made my difference visible. The real conversation was about me being different and embracing my difference in spaces that encourage conforming to a specific ideal.

What was actually happening

Both moments felt personal. And they were. What I didn't have language for yet was the larger force producing them.

What happened in both of those moments started with implicit bias: the automatic associations our brains make about a person the moment we encounter them. Neither man was trying to harm me. But their brains made an association, automatically and unconsciously, the moment they saw me.

That's where it starts. Implicit bias is shaped by the broader policies, practices, and structures that have normalized some groups over others. The individual moment is just where the larger system becomes visible.

The pattern

This plays out in corporate spaces in a repeatable pattern. In leadership rooms you are often the only woman or the only person representing your group. The air feels thin. You're carrying the weight of representation. And how you show up says something about you and about everyone who looks like you or comes from where you come from.

You walked into a room that had already decided something about you.

And when the systems and institutions around us aren't built with you in mind, visibility then starts to feel political.

You walk into rooms where you have to work harder to be taken seriously, prove yourself more, manage what you say and how you come across, at the same time.

And then you hold back and stay quiet in those same rooms because visibility in rooms that weren't built for you feels less safe. It feels loaded.

Where this leaves us

Once you understand that your hesitation and discomfort stem from a pervasive and structural problem, you learn how to influence the variables that only you can control.

You learn to manage your thoughts about yourself in those rooms. You understand how your body responds to high-stakes environments, and why.

That understanding changes where you put your energy. Instead of wasting time on self-blame, you focus on building the communication skills that help you think and communicate clearly, and hold your ground in rooms that weren't designed to make that easy.

That's when you stop thinking "They're judging me." and when you start asking "What am I walking into?" That's a different starting point. It's how you walk in as someone who understands the room.

Something to think about

Before your next meeting, ask yourself this: Am I in a room where I fit the mold, or am I stepping into a space where the norms don't match who I am?

If you fit the mold, notice what that feels like in your body. That's what it feels like when the structures were built for you.

If you don't fit the mold, notice what comes up. Observe it without judgment.

The bias you sense, the loaded feeling, the extra weight of your visibility all point to something real in the system. Your body is picking up on structural inequity at work in that room.

That awareness is where your power lives.

Reply and tell me what you notice. I read every response, and I love hearing from you.

That's all for this week. See you next Wednesday.

Best,

Dr. Natacha

PS: I'm planning a free live training for quiet high-achieving leaders who want their voice to carry the same weight as their expertise. More details coming soon.