Embracing the B*tch
Sometimes, being called a bitch is the highest compliment. This is my current feeling after accepting my villain role. I have worked in the corporate world for 13 years specifically in the government. It’s been an exhausting experience of performative theatrics to make others feel better.
In these spaces, the unspoken rule is clear: Play nice. Smile through the discomfort. Overextend yourself for the sake of others. But the moment a black woman asserts herself, she’s swiftly labeled as aggressive, difficult, or simply a bitch. Suddenly, there's hypercriticism around her tone, her body language, her attire—hell, even her nails. Rarely does the focus rest on the actual work she produces or her attendance—things that impact the agency.
Being quiet shouldn't invite microaggressions, yet somehow it does. Not performing to the expected social norms—like gossiping, sharing your personal life, or entertaining trivial conversations—can lead to being labeled as intimidating. And how do people react to this perceived intimidation? By isolating, antagonizing, or launching a full-fledged campaign to push that woman out of the space.
The definition of intimidation is to frighten someone, especially in order to make them do what one wants. If I don’t smile or laugh at awkward, unfunny jokes I may not get a promotion. Who’s really the intimidating person in this scenario? Why is it our responsibility, as black women, to constantly perform and validate others just to keep our jobs? Why is the merit of our work never enough?
Tone policing is one of the most common tactics used to villainize women, especially black women, in the workplace. Instead of listening to what we say, people focus on how we say it, twisting our words and emotions into something that needs correction. A way to “keep us in our place”. Combine this with the daily microaggressions, and it creates an unbearably toxic environment. It’s a game of walking on eggshells, where if you’re not like them, you’re seen as an enemy—a problem that needs to be removed.
Being nice for the sake of making others comfortable isn’t helping anyone, least of all ourselves. It's exhausting. Every performance has its final curtain call, and when that moment comes, it’s time to embrace the bitch. There is a huge difference between being nice and being kind. Kindness is rooted in mutual respect; niceness is often rooted in self-betrayal.
Be kind, be respectful, but insert boundaries and stand by them. Boundaries are protective barriers to your mental health and peace. Boundaries don't make you difficult. They make you someone who knows her worth, someone who isn’t sacrificial to herself for the comfort of others.
We deserve to show up as our full selves, unapologetically, without being punished for it. It’s time we stop performing, stop shrinking, and start taking up the space we were always meant to occupy. Be a bitch.
