A major theme in my writing is the concept of transition. I find it insane that we’re expected to pick a single profession we want to “be” when we grow up, and that there are so few opportunities to change course. It feels like the one of the many traps of capitalism that our perception of success so often relies on the idea of a singular path when we, as people (at least if we’re lucky), are constantly changing.
A big transition for me was stepping off the “corporate track” in my mid-thirties to pursue creative writing. Around that time, and since, I’ve noticed many of my close friends, especially women, and especially those of us who were single and childless, going through similar transitions. Having reached a certain level of success in our “planned” careers, many of us began to question the paths we’d followed. We assumed we’d feel x by a certain age, but when we reached that age, we actually felt alskdjfds;kdj.
One of my closest friends, Zee Clarke, has gone through one of these major career transitions in the past few years, and it’s culminating in the release of her first (and fantastic) book, Black People Breathe. She is a Harvard MBA who went from leading teams at fortune 500 companies and Silicon Valley startups to teaching mindfulness and breathwork. She helps people of color manage the chronic stress and health conditions resulting from microaggressions and systemic racism.
I spoke to her about her journey and the intense racism she faced as a woman in tech leadership that led her to change course. Our conversation below has been edited.
ES: When I met you—wow, twelve years ago?!—you were deep in the corporate world, a recent business school grad, working at a top SF tech company. Now you’re a mindfulness and breathwork teacher living in Taos, and a newly published author! I’d love to talk about your transition and how you got to where you are. Were there any specific turning points or a final moment, and how did you build up the courage to follow your passion full-time?
ZC: When we met, my work culture was intense. It was very: hustle, hustle, hustle, growth at all costs. And I was sprinting. Everybody was sprinting. Especially at startups. And I was working at a “unicorn” startup. I was often the only woman in the room. And a lot of men in that world are really aggressive—you know these guys.
ES: I certainly do.
ZC: And you'd watch them get promoted way faster than you. And you'd think, I'm working so hard. I'm working nights. I'm working weekends. Busting my ass. And I'm banging my head on, not the glass ceiling, but the concrete ceiling. For women of color. It feels like it can't be broken. And then your head hurts. So what does that mean? That means burnout. Was there one thing? No, it was my whole life.
ES: I love the “concrete ceiling” call out.
ZC: Yeah, my team was mostly white people. And they went to HR and they said that I was aggressive. They complained that I wasn't complimenting them enough. So I thought, okay, I need to pay attention. I knew the power of white voices, and I was terrified of losing my job. I felt humiliated that even though I was the boss, they held the power. There was a Black woman at the same company who had been fired for being too vocal, and I felt like I was walking on eggshells. I became overly conscientious of my tone and very aware of every word that came out of my mouth. I tried to channel a white person preschool teacher's voice —”Great job, Bobby! You’re amazing!”— even when this was not the case. This is just one example. There are so many in the book.
ES: I remember when you were dealing with that, you had so much going on.
ZC: Yes. Aside from all the challenges at work, I had personal things going on in my life—as we all do—and I wasn't eating or sleeping. I was stressed out every day. I went to work thinking that I was gonna get fired every day.
ES: What made you take the plunge and eventually quit?
ZC: I had seen a couple other friends do sabbaticals, and those people gave me the courage to quit. I quit, because I was not okay, and I needed to take care of myself. The question was, did I believe that I could get a job again? My friends who had taken sabbaticals gave me the courage. But even still, I'm Black; they were not. So it's just harder for us, it was a risk. I know a lot of people who think it's easier because of affirmative action and color. But that's not true. We don't even know the people in the first place to get our foot in the door. I know, it sounds like oh, if you work hard enough, it'll happen. But no, it doesn't just happen.
ES: Completely. It’s ridiculous when people think minorities have an easier time. And it’s so scary to jump off the track after working so hard.
ZC: Yeah, I approached it very thoughtfully because I was scared. I mapped out a budget and made sure I had everything planned. But I just needed a break. I was mentally and physically—the two affect one another very much—in bad shape.
So that's why I quit. Then all I did was try to figure out ways to make myself feel better. That's why I went to India. Then I did my yoga teacher training focused on ayurveda. I wanted to look into holistic health because my body and my mind and my spirit were not well. So I learned all these tools. I traveled for a year and learned so much, and at the end of it I was like, I can't go back. I cannot go back to that. And so I continued exploring.
During that time, I had a business idea and wanted to start a holistic healing center.
ES: I remember! It was when I was first thinking about Chorus and we workshopped together.
ZC: Yes! I did this whole research project and business model, and then came to the conclusion it was a bad idea. Because of the economic and operational realities.
ES: It’s so hard to admit when things aren’t going to work (I know!) But it’s so important.
ZC: Totally. So then I was like, what do I do? Finances are real. So I got a job. But I found myself still thinking about past experiences in my work life. How often I was the only Black person in a room. There was one time in my career when my boss took me into his office, closed the door, and said, “I just want you to know, I didn't hire you because you're Black.”
ES: [Jaw drop.]
ZC: I think the point is that these things are always happening, and people don't realize the impact. At the time, I think they wanted to make sure I knew I wasn't a diversity hire. But, in my head, I knew I was overqualified for the job. They didn’t have to tell me that.
Breathing techniques had always helped me a lot. I could take a deep breath when somebody said something that just made me go wow. And then I had an epiphany: I'm not the only one. I should package this and teach workshops.
After I left my job, I started teaching workshops to employees, particularly Black Employee Resource Groups (ERGs). And I work in women's groups, especially on imposter syndrome, and I teach employees how to use these practices from the East that have been used for thousands of years in order to be a more happy, fulfilled, healthy, peaceful person in the workplace. One workshop is Mindfulness to Heal From Microaggressions At Work. One is countering impostor syndrome. Now I have a catalog of around 20 workshops, including things like building up the courage to ask for raises and promotions, or mindfulness around seeking mentors and sponsors. My book is really just an extension of my work.
ES: What’s been the hardest part for you in changing course and pursuing this work?
ZC: I want to say it's the sales pitch, to be honest. I pitch to DEI departments, and they’re focused on talent acquisition and implicit bias training. They generally do very little for the Black people that are already there. So my biggest challenge is convincing DEI departments to invest in their Black employees.
Part of that is acknowledging that they have a problem. If I talk to a Black DEI person, they admit they have a problem. They get it. I talk to a white DEI person, and they often think Black people are good. But when you dig into Black responses to the employee satisfaction survey, or where the diversity numbers are coming from—usually lower levels of the company—there is more to unpack there. Most of the workshops are treated as a one-off, a check-box during Black History Month. My challenge is getting them to actually care and invest in the long-term. There’s a lot of work still left to be done.
Zee and Emily, two of my favorite inspirations for bravery on following your truth and jumping off the hamster wheel. Love this conversation and you both!
um i think this is the title of my memoir?
"we actually felt alskdjfds;kdj."