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What Living Life in the In Betweens Has Taught Me About Adversity, Acceptance, and the Power of Authenticity.<\/strong><\/p>\n The last couple of months have been challenging for most of us. They certainly have been for me. As I\u2019ve struggled to remain hopeful and optimistic in the face of a global pandemic and economic meltdown unlike the world has ever seen, an endless stream of negative headlines has dominated my news feed.<\/p>\n I\u2019ve read countless news clips and articles highlighting all the worst parts of life in Black America. I\u2019ve isolated myself and obsessively washed my hands as to not become yet another brown body waiting to be claimed by their family. I\u2019ve watched the never-ending barrage of videos showing people who look like me being gunned down while out for a jog, threatened while birdwatching, and mercilessly choked by police on camera.<\/p>\n It\u2019s been hard to show up to work as my best self. It\u2019s been hard to remain productive. Yet, as a Black man in white corporate America, I\u2019ve been taught that I don\u2019t have the luxury to just get by with doing the minimum as my coping skills fatigue. As the Black proverb goes, I must be twice as good to get half as much.<\/p>\n So for a while, I\u2019ve said nothing. I\u2019ve swallowed my rage, held back my tears, and done my job with excellence (and without excuse) because that\u2019s all I know how to do. I\u2019ve lived my entire life surrounded by people who don\u2019t understand what it\u2019s like to be stuck in between worlds. So for me, this is nothing new\u2014it\u2019s business as usual. Why would this time be any different?<\/p>\n And yet, this time is different<\/strong>.<\/p>\n People across the United States (and the world) aren\u2019t just finally beginning to acknowledge the systemic challenges facing Black Americans. They\u2019re asking questions, listening, and most importantly, taking action.<\/p>\n Over the past few weeks, I\u2019ve received more phone calls, emails, and text messages from my white friends, coworkers, and industry colleagues than I can count. Each of them reaching out to check in on me, apologizing for not knowing, or to simply say \u201cI see you.\u201d These calls and messages have sparked several immensely vulnerable conversations where I\u2019ve shared my own stories of adversity and my struggle for acceptance as a man living in between worlds.<\/p>\n What started out as an exercise to share my experience navigating the intersection of racism and homophobia in America with friends who couldn\u2019t conceive it happening to \u201csomeone like me,\u201d quickly evolved in to something entirely different. As I told my story, something cathartic happened. I had an epiphany. Perhaps the time I\u2019ve spent living in between worlds wasn\u2019t the isolating narrative I spent most of my life believing, but rather the prologue of my life story where the protagonist hasn\u2019t yet realized they\u2019re a hero.<\/p>\n As I shared my unfiltered truth, some friends struggled to reconcile the boy in stories with the man they know today. They were shocked to learn that the \u201cconfident and charismatic\u201d character they\u2019ve come to know didn\u2019t spring out of the womb that way. But that\u2019s not where my story began. Looking back, I\u2019m glad it didn\u2019t, and that\u2019s exactly what I told them.<\/p>\n I told them that I should have been a statistic.<\/p>\n I told them how I was born to a biracial single mother. How she was abandoned by her white mother at 13 after a tragic motorcycle accident killed my Black grandfather. I told them how my grandmother couldn\u2019t imagine raising two mixed-race daughters on her own in the 1970s without her husband. How she left them, moved away, married a white man, and never spoke of her daughters again.<\/p>\n I told them how my mother sent me to predominantly white private schools because \u201cYou are black, baby. Your best shot of being successful in America is learning how to speak like white people, think like white people, and understand how to move through their<\/strong> world<\/strong>.<\/em>\u201d<\/p>\n I told them how this inadvertently created identity issues for me because I never quite fit in. I was one of a handful of Black boys (literally five) at a school of nearly 900 affluent white male students. I looked different, lived in a different part of town, and wasn\u2019t an athlete. I was a nerd with a high-pitched voice and a bad habit of breaking my Coke-bottle-thick glasses (think Steve Urkel, 1996).<\/p>\n I told them how I had my fair share of name calling and run-ins with racism at school, but what was worse is what happened once I went back home to my community. How I was ostracized by my cousins and kids in the neighborhood for \u201cdressing white,\u201d \u201ctalking white,\u201d and even \u201cwalking white,\u201d (how is that even a thing?). How I was called an Oreo (black on the outside, white on the inside) for most of my childhood\u2014forever trapped between two worlds but accepted by neither.<\/p>\n My stories continued. How I desperately wanted to fit in, but things became more complicated once I came out. How the white students made up horrible lies about me that landed me alone in the principal\u2019s office at 15 accused of being a \u201cdrug-addicted sex worker.\u201d I told them the shame and embarrassment that came over me when my guidance counselor forced me to roll up the long white sleeves of my prep school uniform to prove I didn\u2019t have track marks. How no one even thought to call my mother first.<\/p>\n I told them about my adult family members who continuously told me to \u201cman up\u201d and to \u201cstop always acting like a girl\u201d for simply being myself. And how they said our family name would die because I was the only male of my generation who bore the Morris surname. They even said I needed stop smiling all the time and quit being so outgoing. Because if I didn\u2019t, people would think I\u2019m \u201csoft and desperate for a friend.\u201d<\/p>\n But despite this onslaught of adversity, my mother always taught me to never be a victim. She\u2019d tell me that \u201cYour struggle will be your greatest strength, baby. You are smart, you have a kind heart, and you can make friends with anyone. Just get so good they can\u2019t ignore you.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n So that\u2019s what I did.<\/p>\n I made being a learner and an achiever core pieces of my identity. I studied the science of success, refused to be outworked by anyone, and made excellence a daily habit. I committed to entering any situation with the goal of figuring out the rules of the game so I could play it better than anyone else.<\/p>\n I wouldn\u2019t just \u201cdress white,\u201d I\u2019d make it a point to always be the best dressed man in any room. Rather than blending in, I\u2019d always stand out and be remembered.<\/p>\n I wouldn\u2019t just \u201ctalk white,\u201d I\u2019d develop such a command of the English language that I could build an empire or level a city block with my words alone.<\/p>\n I wouldn\u2019t just \u201cwalk white\u201d I\u2019d develop such self-confidence and an unwavering belief that I was deserving of everything this world has to offer\u2014and that the universe would have no choice but to deliver.<\/p>\n I wouldn\u2019t just learn how to move through the white world, I\u2019d learn to thrive in it. Not by dimming who I was but embracing it wholeheartedly.<\/p>\n I\u2019m not sure exactly when it happened, and I\u2019m not confident it was entirely conscious. But the moment I stopped trying to fit in, accepted myself for who I was, and began to live my authentic life, everything changed, and not just for me.<\/p>\n As Author Marianne Williamson states in her poem Our Greatest Fear, <\/em>\u201cAs we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.\u201d<\/p>\n That\u2019s what I\u2019m most proud of.<\/p>\n Looking back, there was so much wisdom in my mother\u2019s words. My struggle of living life in the in betweens not only became my strength, it became my superpower.<\/strong> It\u2019s like I can walk through walls. My unique perspective is sought out and appreciated. I\u2019m regularly invited to the private conversations that influence the policies and decisions that shape my world.<\/p>\n I now walk into conference rooms, board meetings, and leadership summits where I\u2019m the only Black person sometimes in a crowd of hundreds. But rather than continuing to focus on the smothering uncomfortableness of being \u201calone on an island,\u201d I step into my power and acknowledge the unique opportunity I\u2019ve been given to affect change for people who look like me from the inside.<\/p>\n I\u2019ll leave you with this. Even in the face of impossible adversity, never dim your shine. Accept yourself and your story. Embrace exactly who you are because who you are is more than enough. It has always been enough. Your struggle won\u2019t just be your strength; it\u2019ll be your superpower. To quote the late, great Maya Angelou \u201cIf you\u2019re always trying to be normal<\/strong> you will never know how amazing<\/strong> you can be.\u201d<\/p>\n Damion Morris is president of SMPS Los Angeles and a Certified Professional Services Marketer (CPSM). As proposal manager for PCL Construction Services\u2019 California Buildings District, he oversees all pursuit-related marketing activities for PCL\u2019s largest and fastest growing district at $750 million in annual revenue. He can be reached at <\/em>dlmorris@pcl.com<\/a>.<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n