Tag Archives black in tech

Quit Talking about the Lack of Diversity and Do Something

Last week, a Black software engineer, Leslie Miley, made news when he shared why he quit his job at Twitter – where he was the ONLY Black engineer in a leadership role – in a thoughtful piece on the lack of diversity in tech.

In recent years, Twitter and other tech giants have come under fire for their noticeable lack of Black and Latinx employees, as well as women across ethnic groups. The numbers are even worse when you look at the leadership.

In his Medium post, Miley notes that during a leadership meeting, when he questioned what steps Twitter planned to take to increase diversity, a Senior VP stated:

diversity is important, but we can’t lower the bar.

If an organization is truly committed to increasing diversity, they'll do more than just talk about it. | Read more from "Quit Talking About Diversity and Do Something About It on The Girl Next Door is Black
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Actor Matt Damon made a similar statement on a recent episode of the filmmaking contest Project Greenlight when producer Effie Brown – the only Black person in the room – raised questions about a film the panel was evaluating. Particularly, she was concerned about the portrayal of the film’s lone Black character – a prostitute – and how it may result in [yet another] a one-dimensional character and reinforcement of negative stereotypes.

In a talking head interview, of Effie’s comment, Matt said he appreciated her “flagging diversity” (is that like “flagging a typo”?) but that ultimately, the show and this process is about “giving somebody this job based entirely on merit, leaving all other factors out of it.”

What a lovely world he must live in where people get ahead solely based on merit.

Do people who say things like this actually LISTEN to themselves? Why do they think increasing diversity requires lowering standards? All this type of thinking accomplishes is maintaining the current unbalanced power structure where white men are over overrepresented.

Are we really expected to believe that there are so few talented engineers, actors, producers, and fill-in-the-blanks, who are female and/or non-white, that white men can’t help but hire themselves in these roles?

The film industry is a great example of how not to embrace inclusion. It pretty much fails at diversity in all areas – age, sexual orientation, gender, and ethnicity – the picture is more bleak for people working behind the camera.

Take directors, for example. According to a USC study on inequality in the film industry, of over 700 top films released between 2007 and 2014:

Of the 779 people who directed those movies, 28 were women, 45 were black or African American and 18 were Asian or Asian American (four from the latter groups were black or Asian women).

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On Sunday’s episode of The Good Wife, a Black woman named Monica interviewed for a job at the very white Lockhart-Agos-whatever-they-call it-now law firm. She was one candidate of four, the other three were white men.

The show made it a point to have the hiring managers – three white men and one white woman, all whom nearly lost their ability to function normally in the presence of a Black person –  discuss that while they liked Monica, she didn’t attend a top-tier law school (Loyola wasn’t good enough for them) and that her LSAT scores were lower than the white candidates’.

I’m not really sure what point the writers were attempting to make. They lost me at “not as qualified.” In the end, Monica didn’t get hired, and the firm’s sole female partner brought her in to tell her personally, while expressing her sympathies. As Monica rightly told her, “I’m not here for your white liberal guilt, I need a job.” [I may have inferred the bit about white liberal guilt.]

They couldn’t have made their point about diversity in hiring without making the candidate “less qualified?” You mean to tell me in very Black Chicago (where the show takes place) you can’t find Black lawyers to fit your elitist standards?

Back in June, while at the day job at Big Tech Startup, I recall sitting in a room with two young white men, talking through hiring requirements for several open positions to fill. One of the guys, the recruiter from HR, said:

Well, at this point, it’s summer, we’re going to get second and third tier candidates. All the best candidates have jobs by now.

He looked at me after he said it – I’d just met him – and added, sounding somewhat apologetic, “It’s just how it is.”

I found his thinking unsettling, but unsurprising. At the job before this, of a big hiring push for engineers, a C-level exec affirmed, “we want people who went to schools like your Stanfords, Yales, Browns, Harvards. Who’ve worked at the Amazons, Googles and Facebooks.”

It’s kinda hard to diversify when everyone’s pulling from the same pool of candidates.

Not everyone can attend an Ivy League university even if they wish to. Cornell was my top university choice, which while not an Ivy, is still a quite competitive institution. However, after I went to an information session it became very clear Cornell wasn’t an option because there’s no way I could afford the absurdly expensive tuition.

Instead I attended a state school with a top ranked information technology program.  A state school with tuition 1/10 the cost of Cornell and still I had to get a scholarship, government loans, and work 30-40 hours a week, all while trying to graduate in 4 years – which I didn’t, despite my best efforts.

Unlike some of my more privileged classmates, I didn’t have my parents depositing cash in my bank account on a regular basis. I also didn’t have any adults in my life who could relate to my experience as an undergrad. I had no one close to talk to about the unique struggles I experienced as a Black woman at a predominately white institution with a major dominated by young white men.

As Leslie Miley’s article mentioned, some of these top companies also give favorable weight to new grads with impressive internships on their resumes. I didn’t have internships during the summer breaks. Too many internships were unpaid and how many folks can afford to work for free? I sure couldn’t.

I didn’t attend a fancy university, nor did I have a fancy internship and I didn’t graduate in a pat 4 years. However, I still managed to get hired at these companies with their lofty hiring requirements because I could do the job. Hiring decisions shouldn’t be so heavily weighted on factors that are impacted by socioeconomic status, race, gender and other elements largely outside of personal control.

I’ve read that Black women are the fastest growing group of entrepreneurs. I’ve written about my own entrepreneurial goals and how negative work experiences have played their part in my choices. I have to wonder how many of us have opted out of the traditional workforce because we can no longer deal with the extra weight of being a double minority in workplaces where increasing diversity is seemingly more of a trendy talking point than an actionable endeavor and continuous goal.

Despite the “browning of America” the Sunday morning political show landscape remains a panorama of middle-aged white man-ness. One notable exceptions is the Melissa Harris-Perry show which manages to fill a panel with a diverse group of knowledgeable folks every Saturday and Sunday. While not weekend morning shows, both The Nightly Show and All in with Chris Hayes cover politics and also manage to secure diverse panels of noteworthy, tv-ready people as guests. The guests are there if you actually look for them.

If an organization is truly committed to increasing diversity, they'll do more than just talk about it. | Read more from "Quit Talking About Diversity and Do Something About It on The Girl Next Door is Black
Melissa Harris-Perry | source

When it comes to diversity, can we just cut the crap? If you genuinely think there aren’t enough accomplished, competent, qualified candidates for a job other than white men – you have a problem which you need to address. However, if you truly want to increase diversity – it is going to take action.

We don’t need anymore research. We don’t need more task forces. What we need is for people to step outside of their insular circles. To quit using the same tired standards to find talent. To stop perpetuating isolating cultures of exclusivity. The time for excuses is long past.

It’s been my experience that if someone claims they want something, but continually makes excuses for why they can’t do it, it’s not a priority for them.

 

Do you have any ideas for how organizations can improve diversity? Why do you think more progress hasn’t been made?

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San Francisco, I Think I’m Over You

I’m kind of back to not liking living in San Francisco.

Part of my disenchantment is probably my fault. I arrived here with big dreams I’ve yet to see realized. For one, I thought I’d fall into a good group of friends. Instead, someone I considered a good friend ghosted on me. Though I have made a few good friends whom I am grateful for, they’re from disparate circles. My social life is unrecognizable to me.

I also thought I might finally meet someone I can see a future with or at the very least someone whose company I’d enjoy more than Netflix and chillin’ solo.  After all, they say San Francisco is one of the best US cities for singles. I don’t know if they actually talked to anyone who lives here because while I know many single people of different genders and sexual orientations whom are lovely, lovable people, they are not in a relationship, and most are actively searching.

After three years of living in San Francisco, I think it may be time to call it quits. Read more from "San Francisco, I Think I'm Over You" at The Girl Next Door is Black
This chart doesn’t specify the sexual orientation of said singles. | source

I suppose if they mean this a great place to for singles if you want to remain single, that makes sense. Dating mostly takes place on apps here, at the expense, in my opinion, of people sharpening their in-person social skills. You can take your Tinders, Bagels, soul connections, rings and dings or whatever the hells and put ’em somewhere not on my phone.

After three years of living in San Francisco, I think it may be time to call it quits. Read more from "San Francisco, I Think I'm Over You" at The Girl Next Door is Black
A common sight in SF| source

Then there’s work. Of the two full-time jobs I’ve had here, one left me feeling useless, the other gave me my first anxiety attack. I barely want anything to do with the tech industry at this point.

When reality doesn’t live up to your high hopes, an emotional crash isn’t all that surprising.

There’s also the fact that everything here is so.damn.expensive. I think I must blackout when I pay my rent every month. That’s the only way I can understand how I continue to pay more than some people’s mortgage.

Of the people: I don’t get the seemingly dominant personality of passivity in this city. Just last week, I was at the drugstore in my favorite aisle – the candy aisle – when I noticed a woman walking toward me. As she neared me, she paused and started rummaging through her purse. I know she was faking. She walked with purpose down that aisle until she saw me. Now, I’m not very wide and I’m generally aware of the space around me, so it’s not like I was completely blocking her path. I’m not one of those oblivious aisle-blocking asshats.

A simple “excuse me” would have sufficed to get me to scoot the inch or two more needed for her clear passage. Instead, this lady acted like she had an urgent need to reapply lipstick or find a tampon. Who knows?

I could have moved preemptively, but I’ve done this dance before. I’ve been in many an aisle in this city and had this same scene go down. What is the deal with people? Is it timidity? Are they afraid to make contact with an unfamiliar human being? Politeness is appreciated, but there is such a thing as being so polite you make people want to scream.

The woman continued to dig in her purse – finding nothing because she was looking for nothing – until I finally inched forward, making sure to sigh heavily and roll my eyes at the absurdity of it all (hi, petty). There I was minding my business, trying to determine which pack of Sour Patch Kids would be the freshest, and here comes Timid Tammy ruining the experience with her fish spine.

After three years of living in San Francisco, I think it may be time to call it quits. Read more from "San Francisco, I Think I'm Over You" at The Girl Next Door is BlackI’ve also had people here give me that “Oh my” pearl-clutching glance because I dared speak up about something.

On the bus one afternoon, after a particularly tiresome string of hours at the day job, a budding-grey-haired woman with a folding shopping cart packed with several large black plastic bags, decided to throw a tantrum as she exited. She’d situated herself right by the door, so she only needed to make it a few feet to the steps. Each and every step she took came with a cranky grunt and dramatic muttering.

A minute later, she’d only progressed a few inches, so a kind man offered to help her the rest of the way.

“Noooo!” she shouted, mimicking the Wicked Witch of the West, “I don’t need YOUR HELP!” If she’d carried a cane, here is where she’d have shaken it at him with menace.

The defeated man backed away like a kicked puppy.

Around me, other passengers looked toward the rear window to see if another bus was coming. Nope.

A couple more minutes ticked by. The shopping cart and it’s pusher had yet to reach the steps.

Is NO ONE going to say anything? This is fucking ridiculous. This woman is holding up a bus full of people with lives because of her pride and stubbornness. Not even a peep from the bus driver – whose arm she threatened to bite off. She didn’t actually say that, but the quickness with which he recoiled like she’d hissed at him, indicated as such.

After three years of living in San Francisco, I think it may be time to call it quits. Read more from "San Francisco, I Think I'm Over You" at The Girl Next Door is Black
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I couldn’t take anymore.

“Get off the bus!” I hollered.

A young woman across the way turned toward me with a furrowed brow. Oh stop clutching your damn pearls!

“Yeah, get off already!” the bus driver repeated, regaining his voice.

Soon other passengers chanted, some quieter than others, as the woman grumbled her way down the steps.

A few passengers clapped and whistled once the last of her landed on the sidewalk.

I hadn’t meant to start an uprising on the bus; I just wanted us to get moving. But, I bet you those people felt good taking control of their lives. We endure a lot of bizarre and sometimes frustrating encounters on these city buses.

Lastly, but most importantly, there’s the race thing. To put it bluntly: being black in San Francisco is existentially exhausting and socially isolating like nothing I’ve ever experienced. I’ve written about that on multiple occasions, so I won’t rehash it here.

With all of that said, I do not regret moving here. It’s still one of the best decisions I’ve made. My life now is incredibly different from the life I lived in Los Angeles. If I felt stalled in L.A. and wanted to push past the stagnancy by trying a new city, I got what I asked for and more. I’ve evolved in ways I never imagined. I believe moving here was a necessary step for my personal, emotional and career growth.

Barring some freak joyful miracle, my time in San Francisco is nearing its end. I had hoped this might be a place I could stay put for a long while, but I want to get out before I am driven completely mad. I also fear becoming one of the passive. That works fine for some people, but it gives me the itchees.

There’s only one US city next on the list. I’m not quite ready to reveal it yet as I’m still planning. I will say that it’s not happening this year, but if you’re a regular reader, you can probably guess which one it is.

October will mark 3 years here. I think I gave it a good shot.

After three years of living in San Francisco, I think it may be time to call it quits. Read more from "San Francisco, I Think I'm Over You" at The Girl Next Door is Black

Have you ever lived in a place you didn’t like? Also, if you are a passive aisle-passer, tell me why please, I’m curious. 

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When You’re Confronted With Racially Insensitive Terms at Work

View of Downtown San Francisco from "When You're Confronted with Racially-Insenstive Terms at Work"Last week I sat in a meeting where the word “slave(s)” was said at least 20 times.

No, I wasn’t involved in a discussion on slavery or history, as someone asked when I tweeted about it. I was in the office of a tech startup. [I’m contracting in my old career until my new one takes off.]

Each time “slave” escaped someones’ lips, I cringed internally, trying hard not to externally display my discomfort. However, with each “slave” uttered, I sank deeper in my chair as my tension found other ways to release itself: a bouncing foot, a tapping finger, deep, quiet sighs, shifting positions in my chair. With every vocal release of “slave” it was as though someone tossed the sharp-edged word directly at me. A lashing by lexicon.

I was the only black face in the room. Of course I was, this is tech in San Francisco.

In technology, “master/slave” terminology describes the relationship between entities. In the case of this meeting, the discussion centered around databases.

I’m familiar with the terms from reading about them during my undergrad studies, though they never made the cut for class usage, thank goodness.

I’d also heard the terms during orientation months ago. Mercifully, they were only vocalized twice on that occasion. Afterward, thrown by the incongruity of this word usage in 2015, I turned to Google to research if it’s a topic that’s been addressed before.

Master_Slave_Diagram from "When You're Confronted with Racially Insensitive Terms at Work" on The Girl Next Door is Black
Diagram representing the relationship between databases.
Source

While I didn’t find much, there is one notable case. In 2003, Los Angeles County requested the naming convention not be used in county operations, despite much opposition to the change. They took action after a county employee filed a discrimination lawsuit upon coming across the phrase at work.

Unsurprisingly, those online who criticized the change – with the majority who weighed in being non-black people responded with over-intellectualized arguments about the origin of the terms, their multiple meanings, complaints about an overly PC culture, and other irrelevancies.

As a black American who descends from enslaved people, in a country where the legacy of slavery STILL has its tentacles ensnared in so many institutions and systems, not to mention daily life, it disturbed me.

Do I think that the folks in the room used the words to hurt me directly? No.

Do I think they are evil racists? No.

What I do think though, is that usage of the terminology is insensitive because it ignores the negative affects such words have on some employees, regardless of how small they are in number.

I don’t really care about the history of the words, anymore than I care about the history of the words “ghetto” or “thug.” I do not care about the usage of the phrase in other countries or in peoples’ bedrooms. I care about how the words are used here, where stolen human beings were treated like chattel, with fewer rights than a dog, for hundreds of years. I care about the fact that no one’s work experience should involve them feeling assaulted by the free usage of outdated terminology.

Words evolve in meaning and association. It’s disingenuous to pretend otherwise. We can talk circles around the topic, but I will never again sit through this crap.

I wish I’d left the conference room. I think I was rendered immovable by the shock of the situation. My mind reeled with options. I’d considered walking out as I uncomfortably anticipated the next utterance of “slave.” I didn’t want to seem unprofessional, especially if I left mid-meeting without explanation. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. I didn’t want to make a scene.

Ultimately, I endured the meeting and bolted out of the room the instant it concluded.

I am somewhat ashamed by my response. I promised myself I’d no longer refrain from addressing difficult subjects just because it might make other people uncomfortable. I WAS EXTREMELY UNCOMFORTABLE. The longer I sat in the meeting, the more I heated up, stewing over the fact that if the racial makeup in the room were different, this wouldn’t be an issue. But, I was alone and no one else appeared bothered.

diversity trainer from craigslist" border="0"></a><br>More career  humor at <a href="http://academy.justjobs.com/cartoon-caption-contest">http://academy.justjobs.com/cartoon-caption-contest
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I don’t expect the use of this terminology to change – at least not anytime soon. Tech is ruled largely by white men and as the thinking goes in this country when we gauge offensiveness, if it doesn’t bother them, why should it bother anyone else, right? If they don’t see a problem, it doesn’t exist.

The tech world is known for a serious lack of diversity. Words matter and continuing old practices like usage of “master/slave” terminology doesn’t help people like me feel included, nor valued.

If the tech industry really wants to attract and retain more black talent (as well as Latino/a, Native American and female), issues like this require addressing. People whose experiences differ from the majority shouldn’t be dismissed as “too sensitive.” Diversity isn’t solely about increasing the number of employees from underrepresented groups, it also involves adapting and evolving customs and practices to foster a culture of inclusion rather than marginalization.

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San Francisco: Not a Treat (Yet)

I’ve been feeling pretty lonely and lacking regular human interaction the past few months. You know you’re desperate for human interaction when you look forward to visiting your new chiropractor because you know that as chatty as she is, she’ll also be a captive audience.

La, La, La, I Can’t See You!

Photo by epSos.de, flickr.com
I know monkey, I’m lonely too
cr: epSos.de, flickr.com

I think people in this city, at least the parts I’ve been in, are deathly allergic to making eye contact with others. As though meeting the eyes of another human might suck out their souls. I know there are many reasons why people may avoid eye contact: some are shy, some have social anxiety (or just regular anxiety), others wary of strangers, I’ve heard some say that they are afraid of being asked for money, but everyone?!

When walking down the streets, I’ve found people to be aloof and sometimes cold. I’ve met friendlier people walking down the streets of Manhattan and Paris. I’ve made more connections here with the thousands of gorgeous and no doubt very pampered dogs that live in the city than any of their owners. They happily wag their tails at me the same way I do internally when I see another black person on the street. I treat other black people in this city like they’re endangered species. I am shocked by their presence and have an urge to capture them and protect them like I may see another ever again. NatGeo voiceovers play in my head: The black American, endangered in these parts, is seen walking into a Starbuck’s, where we must assume, they will purchase a caffeinated beverage.

I’ve started missing the comfort of Los Angeles. A city where I know how things work, how people behave and (for the most part) how I fit in. An article in The Atlantic quoted a study that found:

…withholding eye contact can signal exclusion. … Even though one person looks in the general direction of another, no eye contact is made, and the latter feels invisible.

Yup, pretty much.

New York City gets a bad rap as an unfriendly city
New York City gets a bad rap as an unfriendly city

The friendliest resident I’ve met to date is an older black panhandler named Mike. I was in the Castro trying to find a nail shop I was Christmas-gifted with a manicure to, when he asked me for money. I told him I didn’t have any change and noticing me]y peering around, he asked me what I was looking for. (I legit didn’t have any change. One of the best lessons I learned last year was not to forget the humanity of the homeless and down-and-out. I try to at least smile at and acknowledge those that I encounter.) I told him the address and he walked with me trying to help me find the salon since as he told me he’d been “on that street corner for 10 years!” If anyone could find it, he could. He didn’t find it, but he gave me his phone number, sweetly asked when we’re getting married and made me promise to come back and show him my nails (I did, but he wasn’t there when I returned). Meeting him was the highlight of that day. “Mommy, another human spoke to me today!”

We Are the World?

I’ve read discussions online about the supposed diversity of SF. The city is largely white and Asian (majority Chinese) with those two groups comprising over 80% of the population and Latinos being the third most populous ethnic group at ~ 15% (give or take some percentages depending who’s reporting). We also have the largest gay and lesbian population in the US. Yes, this is a lot of different groups, but whether this is considered “diverse” depends on your perspective.

I often wonder if the “diversity” is touted by people who aren’t used to feeling like a minority in a US city. [Indeed: “Ideas of what is a diverse neighborhood differ by race.” ] Online, one commenter will lament the mass exodus of blacks from a city that used to have a large population of them (down to less than 6% from over 15% in 1970 and less than the US population of 13%). Another will rebut that there are plenty of blacks in Hunters Point (also known as Guns Point) and Bayview (a mostly working class neighborhood, with high poverty rates and called one of the most violent neighborhoods in the City by the New York Times).  Neither are neighborhoods you’ll see mentioned in glossy guidebooks or in hipster-foodie conversation.

Then the discussion inevitably devolves as some asshole puts in his or her racist two cents about how they are glad the “ghetto black thugs” keep to their habitat in Oakland. I (mostly) resist the urge to reply and instead fantasize about pulling a Tina Turner and getting the hell out of the US altogether . But, I’ve already covered that. (Please do not misunderstand, I’m an equal opportunity friender, but being the only black person [or one of few] in many of the places you frequent, gets really old after a while.)

To some, “a lot” of black people is 10 out of 300 white people. When I think of cities that are diverse, Houston, Los Angeles (though I think LA is unfortunately pretty segregated) and New York come to mind. Not just diversity of ethnic groups and sexual orientation, but economic diversity. It seems there are two kinds of residents here in SF: those with money and those without. The middle class is continually shrinking because the city has become so unaffordable.

There definitely aren’t a lot of black professionals living in SF. I went from working at a company where the staff was admirably diverse, including 15% black employees and 50% of women (in Santa Monica, not exactly a diverse area in itself). At my current office, I am one of 7 or 8 black employees, less than 3% of the total workforce. Some days I feel like walking around the city wearing a big ass sign that says “token”.

What About Your Friends?

Let me iiiiiin!cr:  stevendepolo, flickr.com
Let me iiiiiin!
cr: stevendepolo, flickr.com

On the friendship end, my attempts to reach out to the few people I already know here have mostly failed: multiple cancellations on their ends and one non-reply after dates to meet up were discussed. The kickball league I signed up for was cancelled. My coworkers are still cliquey.

A couple of weeks ago the cube people around me loudly talked about the happy hour they had planned. No one bothered to invite the new girl. This happened twice in the same week. Previous to that, on my way home one evening, I ran into a manager who asked me if I was going to the happy hour one of my project teams was having that night. That was the first I’d heard of it. Further, last week in the office, I walked by a woman whose tag was sticking out of her shirt. Trying to be helpful, I told her, and her response was “Oh.” No “thank you”, just “oh”. Later I ran into her on the elevator and she averted her gaze. Bitch, fine, look raggedy with tags sticking out all over the place, next time I’ll say nothing. So its been less than a treat, to say the least.

In the coming weeks, through convergence, I am signed up for a few meetup events, a speed-friending event (yes, I think it sounds lame too, but lonely beggars can’t be choosers) and an event with a service that helps women find girlfriends.  Supposedly the new kickball league I was transferred to starts in April. I am not holding my breath.

Is this really my life?

Hope Floats

I am not giving up though. I’m charming, dammit, and people in other cities like me. Funnily enough, thanks to a crazy boiler blowup in my apartment building, I ended up having a drink with my (married and retired) building manager who’s lived in San Francisco all his life. I was probably a little much as when he asked how I was doing I sighed so heavily you’d think I was recovering from an asthma attack. This is what having few friends does to someone who’s a Myers-Briggs ‘E’. All my thoughts came gushing out like a busted fire hydrant. Chatting with him was a pleasant reminder that behind the non-gaze of San Franciscans are people who like and even wish for human interaction.

Hope is nigh! I think I may have finally cracked one of the cliques at work. And I may have a couple of new lunch buddies. Last week, I had a girl date with someone who lives in my neighborhood that seems promising. My neighbors have been nice and a couple even helpful. I’ve met most of them (and their dogs).

I am the chapter leader of the black employee network at work (for all few of us, though the other outposts of our company have many more). It’s only been three months. I just need to be patient (though telling myself this is like telling Rihanna to keep her damn clothes on: you can try, but you know she ain’t listening) and not let myself be overcome with bitterness. Sharing this with the world is testament to my optimism. I know that in a year or two I’ll reread this post and be thrilled with my progress and laugh about my former loneliness with my new friends.