I keep telling my co-workers that I’m going to facilitate an entire class in Jamaican Patois. Every time I stand up in front of the class, I forget and naturally fall into my NYC accent. I can’t help it. My current voice has become my default. Here is why: I was horribly teased in elementary school about my accent. So much so that I wished I could take it out of my mouth and throw it in the trash. That is where it all begins—my dissociation from my authentic self. I pushed it down so much...

We think we're protecting ourselves. Really, we're just getting better at hiding. I'll never forget the moment my boyfriend called me out for changing clothes in the closet. Not the bedroom—the closet. Like I was sneaking around in my own space. "Why are you hiding?" he asked. And that question hit different because I knew exactly why. I didn't want him to see the holes in my socks. The worn-out underwear I hadn't replaced. These tiny, human imperfections felt like secrets I had to keep—even...

I heard it in her voice—that mix of frustration and disbelief when she said, “but I thought you were helping me with this.” As the Training Center Coordinator, I’d just told an AHA (American Heart Association) instructor something she didn’t want to hear: “This one is out of my hands. I am not able to see anything from my end.” She couldn’t believe there was nothing I could do about her alignment issue. The doubt was thick enough to cut. So she called another team member who’d filled my role...