You’re supposed to accomplish less and succeed less than everyone else.

In the eighth episode of The First Lady TV series, a young Michelle Robinson (the now Michelle Obama) sits on the edge of her seat in her guidance counselor’s office, waiting for the counselor to finish reading her school records. A few minutes later, the white counselor raises her head and looks at young Michelle.

“I’m not sure that you’re quite Princeton material.”

With a smile and approval in her tone, the counselor lists universities Michelle can apply to, universities less prestigious than Princeton, universities she is sure will accept Michelle with open arms, as Michelle listens, powerless and hurt. The counselor leaves the part important to young Michelle. Princeton University. Her number one choice.

On the way to the door, Michelle turns and asks the counselor, “What is it about me that is not Princeton material?”

Michelle’s question becomes an affront. Now the counselor’s eyes throw thousands of arrows at young Michelle.

You’re not supposed to dream BIG. You’re not supposed to question the person standing in the way of your dreams. You’re not supposed to look that person in the eye. You’re not supposed to ask why they think you’re not quite Princeton material. You’re not supposed to challenge prejudice.

You’re supposed to keep your head down as a white person tells you, “You’re not quite Princeton material.”

You’re supposed to accept who they say you are. You’re supposed to bow your head as a white person decides who you are, what you can achieve, and who you can be. You’re supposed to smile and walk out of the office with dignity as a white person shoves your BIG dream in a box and seals it with a deadbolt key. You’re supposed to smile as a white person puts a teeny-tiny box with an equally teeny-tiny dream inside it on the table. You’re supposed to smile as they point at the teeny-tiny dream inside the teeny-tiny box. “This is all you can achieve.” “This is all you can be.” You’re supposed to smile as they imply that you’re less worthy than a white person.

Before my students enter my classroom, I like sitting in the back row. Like a student. One time I was starting a new class on effective communication to a management team in a global company. I was sitting at the back, reading a book, waiting for my students to fill the classroom. A white student, probably in his early 40s, sat next to me.

“I heard the teacher is great.” He said.

“I’m the teacher in this class.” I said.

“You?”

He looked at me (I was 35 at the time) like I had gone utterly mad. Like I was pranking him. He didn’t believe me.

Until a few minutes later…

His jaw dropped open when I stood in front of my students and introduced myself.

You’re not supposed to have a dark skin and stand in front of your white students to teach. You’re not supposed to be good at your job. You’re not supposed to be more educated, more intelligent, and more capable than a white person.

You’re supposed to be less educated, less intelligent, and less capable than a white person. You’re supposed to accomplish less. Succeed less than everyone else.

When I started writing professionally in mid-2018, I sent a personal essay draft to a publisher. Weeks later, he emailed me.

“You’ll never get published.”

I asked him why.

“Your essay is too dark. Too raw. No one is going to read how a black woman survives in a white-dominated society.”

After reading his email, I felt like this white editor barged into my creativity room and stood in front of me, hurling at me, “You’ll never get published! No one will read your essays! Don’t bother having writing dreams! Who do you think you are?”

I had to say something. I knew the editor had an 11-year-old daughter.

“How would you feel if I told your 11-year-old daughter that she would never amount to anything?” I emailed him.

He did not respond back.

You’re not supposed to fight back for your dreams.

You’re supposed to let a white person strip away your dreams. Your ambitions. You’re supposed to accept a white person’s opinion on what you can and cannot do. On who you are.

At the beginning of this year, my lawyer friend, Delilah, hoped she would get a partnership seat. Except… James, a white man who joined the firm after she did, got the partnership seat.

My friend is confident and competent and hard worker. She is left behind because she is perceived as less capable and less worthy than her white peers. Because of the color of her skin.

You’re not supposed to ask HR for an explanation. If you do, “You’re full of yourself,” they tell you.

You’re not supposed to speak up. You’re not supposed to challenge the prejudice. If you do, you’re demanding.

And trouble maker.

You’re not supposed to demand the higher-ups for a promotion, a pay rise, a seat at the senior table. You’re not supposed to ask for what you deserve. If you do, they question your daring. They question your audacity.

How dare you aspire for a seat at the table? How dare you walk into HR and demand for a promotion?

Never mind that your male colleague had sauntered into HR and demanded the same thing. Never mind that you’re looking for the same career progression opportunities as your white peers.

Even though no one says it, everybody implies it. “You’re not partnership material.”

“You’re not leadership material.”

You’re supposed to cross your fingers and hope for the best. You’re supposed to be happy for James. You’re supposed to be happy you’re working in an elite law firm. That should be enough.

You’re supposed to be subservient. You’re supposed to live with and even put on a smile to the day-to-day reminders that you’re less than, that you should learn to get over the feeling of being left behind.