The Book Black Women Need Right Now
Picture this: A Black woman stands at the counter of a retail store, badge clipped to her uniform, helping a customer who refuses to look her in the eye. Another sits in a corporate boardroom where her ideas are dismissed until a male colleague repeats them verbatim and suddenly, they become genius. A third clocks into her shift at a hotel, bracing herself for the comment about her hair, her tone, her “attitude” that she knows is coming. Different settings. Different industries. Same script.
This is the reality we live in. And if you think things are getting better, I need you to look at the data.
I wrote Black Girl Magic: Navigating Microaggressions and Unconscious Bias in the Workplace because I am that woman. As a flight attendant navigating the skies and corporate culture, as a caregiver juggling impossible demands, as a civil rights advocate watching systems fail the very people they claim to protect, I have lived every page of this book. But more importantly, I wrote it because Black women are losing ground at an alarming rate, and we need tools that match the moment we are in.
The Crisis We Need to Talk About
Let me give you the numbers first, because they are staggering. Between February and April 2025, more than 300,000 Black women lost their jobs or exited the workforce. Let that sink in. While the overall U.S. economy was adding jobs, Black women were bleeding them. Our unemployment rate jumped from 5.1% to 6.1% in a single month, April 2025, while the national rate hovered around 4.2%. For Black workers overall, unemployment held at 6.2%. For white workers? Just 3.4%.
These are real statistics about real lives. These are women who lost health insurance. Women who could no longer make rent. Women who had to explain to their children why they could no longer afford school supplies. These are careers derailed, retirements delayed, dreams deferred.
And this is happening at the exact moment when the systems meant to support us are being dismantled. DEI initiatives, the very programs designed to level a playing field that was never level to begin with, are being rolled back across corporate America and federal agencies. Reports show that by mid-2025, over 69,000 federal positions tied to diversity, equity, and inclusion work had been cut. Major corporations like KPMG closed their “Accelerate 2025” strategy aimed at increasing leadership roles for underrepresented groups.
Translation? The doors that were barely cracked open are being slammed shut. And Black women, who were already doing the work of three people while being paid for one, are being pushed back out into the cold.
When Even the Highest Among Us Face This Reality
Here is what makes this moment so clarifying: it matters little how high you climb, how many degrees you hold, or how perfectly you perform. The microaggressions, the bias, the double standards follow you everywhere.
Think about Vice President Kamala Harris. The first Black woman, the first South Asian woman to hold the second-highest office in the United States. And yet, throughout her time in office and during her campaign, she faced relentless attacks on her competence, her credentials, her very right to be in the room. Critics questioned whether she was “likable enough” or “tough enough” or whether she laughed too much. These are critiques that are never, ever leveled at her white male counterparts with the same venom.
Or consider Michelle Obama. A Princeton and Harvard Law graduate. A woman who served as First Lady with grace, intelligence, and an unshakeable commitment to public service. And she still had to endure racist attacks, questions about her femininity, and commentary on her arms, her fashion choices, her “tone.” In her memoir Becoming, she wrote about the exhaustion of always having to be “twice as good” just to be considered equal, and even then, it was never quite enough.
Then there is Representative Jasmine Crockett, who had to endure a colleague making comments about her “fake eyelashes” during a congressional hearing. Her policy positions went unmentioned. Her legal arguments went unmentioned. But her eyelashes? Those became the topic. It was a coded microaggression wrapped in mockery, designed to diminish and demean, a tactic as old as it is transparent. Crockett called it out. But she should never have had to.
And let us remember Attorney General Letitia James, who has faced attacks on her credibility and professionalism while prosecuting some of the most high-profile cases in the country. Her competence is constantly questioned, her motives scrutinized in ways her predecessors never experienced.
If women at the pinnacle of power, women with security details, national platforms, and Ivy League credentials, are still subjected to this treatment, what does that tell us about what everyday Black women face?
This Reality Extends to Every Workplace
Here is what I need you to understand: this affects executives and everyday workers alike. This is happening to the Black woman working the front desk at your doctor’s office who gets yelled at by patients who demand to speak to “someone in charge” even though she IS in charge. This is happening to the teacher who is told she is “too aggressive” when she enforces the same classroom rules as her white colleagues. This is the server whose tips mysteriously drop when tables realize she is the one bringing their food. This is the nurse whose pain assessments are questioned, whose expertise is doubted, whose very presence is treated as an inconvenience.
Black women in blue-collar jobs. Service industry jobs. Retail. Hospitality. Healthcare. Education. We are everywhere, doing essential work, and we are all navigating the same minefield of bias, disrespect, and intentional provocation.
The Numbers Tell a Devastating Story
Let me break down where Black women actually work, because the reality is far from the corner office fantasy some people imagine. More than half of Black women work in occupations where they are overrepresented, meaning they are concentrated in jobs that are systematically undervalued and underpaid.
Healthcare workers: More than one in five Black women (23%) work in healthcare. But here is the reality: we are the surgeons and hospital administrators at far lower rates than our white counterparts. Black women have a 42% probability of working as licensed practical nurses or aides, the lowest-wage, most physically demanding, and often most hazardous positions in the sector. We are 37% more likely to work in long-term care facilities than white women. These are the jobs that broke our backs during COVID-19 while the world clapped for healthcare workers but refused to pay us a living wage.
Office and administrative support: Black women hold 71% of these positions in our community. These include jobs like receptionists, administrative assistants, data entry clerks. These roles typically pay between $35,000 and $45,000 annually with limited benefits and even fewer opportunities for advancement.
Personal care and service workers: Black women are heavily concentrated here. Childcare workers, maids and housekeeping cleaners, personal care aides. One in four Black women work in service occupations, compared to just 10.6% of white women. These jobs often pay minimum wage or close to it, offer no benefits, and come with the constant indignity of being treated as invisible or less-than.
Retail and food service: Cashiers, servers, fast-food workers, sales associates. Over half a million Black women work in food preparation and serving alone, where median weekly earnings hover around $703, compared to $834 for men in the same jobs.
Here is what makes this even more infuriating: Black women earn a median income of just $35,749 annually. In occupations where Black women are overrepresented, we earn only $31,785 per year. That is barely surviving in most American cities.
And the wage gap? Black women working full-time year-round are paid just 64 cents for every dollar paid to white men. Over a 40-year career, that adds up to more than $900,000 in lost earnings. Nearly a million dollars stolen from us because the system devalues our labor, despite our qualifications and work ethic.
The Education Paradox: Most Educated, Highest Unemployed
Here is where it gets really twisted. Black women are among the most educated demographic groups in America. According to 2024 data, approximately 38% of young Black women have earned a college degree, a dramatic increase from just 14% thirty years ago. Yet, when you compare that to white women (52%) and Asian women (77%), you see we still face barriers to equal opportunities. Black women hold the highest percentage of graduate degrees among women of color across all racial groups.
We are more likely than any other demographic group to be enrolled in higher education. We represent the highest-growing group of entrepreneurs. We are the backbone of our families, with Black women more likely than any other group of women to be the primary breadwinner.
And yet, our unemployment rate is 6.1%, nearly double that of white women at 3.1%.
Let that sink in. We are the most educated. And we are among the most unemployed.
This is what systemic racism looks like. A 2024 study found that bias in the hiring process accounts for up to 52% of the racial employment gap. That means that more than half of the reason Black women struggle to find jobs has everything to do with discrimination and nothing to do with our qualifications.
Even when we earn degrees, we are systematically excluded from the highest-paying fields. Black women make up less than 7% of physicians, dentists, lawyers, and engineers, the occupations associated with economic mobility and financial freedom. Meanwhile, we have representation in eight out of the 10 lowest-paid jobs in America.
And here is the cruelest irony: 55.9% of college-educated Black women are working in jobs that do require a college degree. We paid for those degrees. We earned them. And the labor market still refuses to value us accordingly.
The top majors for Black women include health and medical administration services (21%), human services and community organization (20%), social work (19%), and public administration (17%). These fields typically offer starting salaries between $40,000 and $96,000, considerably less than STEM fields where white workers dominate and starting salaries average $57,900, climbing to over $108,000 mid-career.
This reveals a system that pushes us into certain fields, undervalues the work we do, pays us less even when we break into higher-paying sectors, and then blames us for the wealth gap it created.
The Indignities We Swallow: Training Our Replacements and Watching Others Rise
And then there are the wounds that statistics cannot capture but cut just as deep.
You are the expert. You have been doing the work for years. You know the systems, the clients, the unwritten rules. And then they hire someone, usually someone white, usually someone less qualified, and ask you to train them. You do it because you are professional. Because you need your job. Because saying no would make you “difficult.” And six months later, that person you trained? They become your supervisor.
Black women know this script by heart. We are brought in to fix things, to clean up messes, to make magic happen on impossible deadlines with inadequate resources. We deliver. Every single time. And when promotion season comes? The opportunities go to someone who “has more leadership potential” or “would be a better culture fit” or shows “executive presence,” which is code for “looks like the people who are already in charge.”
We watch white women who started after us get mentorship, sponsorship, stretch assignments. We watch them get invited to the golf outings and the after-work drinks where real decisions get made. We watch them make mistakes and get called “bold” and “innovative” while our mistakes are used as evidence that we were never ready.
And through it all, we are expected to carry it. We are the “strong Black woman,” right? We can handle it. We stay silent. We keep showing up. We deliver. We hold our families together, our communities together, our workplaces together. We are the backbones and the safety nets and the ones who make things work.
But who is holding us?
Here is what nobody tells you: there are no classes for this. There are no workshops on “How to Respond When Your Manager Asks Why You Sound Angry During a Presentation You Delivered in a Neutral Tone.” There are no corporate training modules titled “What to Do When You Are Asked to Train Your Less Qualified Replacement.” There are no HR handbooks that explain how to document microaggressions without becoming a target.
We have had to figure it out alone. On top of everything else we carry on our strong Black shoulders. We swap stories with our sister-friends. We vent in group chats. We pray. We cry in bathroom stalls during lunch breaks. We develop stress-related illnesses at rates higher than any other demographic. And we keep going because we have families depending on us.
That is why this book exists.
Because we should never have to figure this out alone. Because our survival strategies should come from documented wisdom, proven frameworks, and shared knowledge rather than whisper networks and painful experience. Because we deserve tools, frameworks, language, and validation for what we live through.
Government Jobs: Our Economic Anchor Under Attack
Black women make up 12% of the federal workforce, nearly double our representation in the overall workforce. The federal government has historically been one of the few sectors where Black women could find stable employment, better wages with fewer disparities, comprehensive benefits, and protections against discrimination. Government jobs offered health insurance, retirement coverage, and data shows that Black women in government employment report better health outcomes than those in the private sector.
And what is happening now? Those jobs are being systematically eliminated.
Black women made up 28% of the Department of Education workforce, and we all know what this administration wants to do to that department. We filled many of the DEI positions that are being cut across federal agencies. Between the federal layoffs, state budget cuts, and the dismantling of programs that serve our communities, Black women are being pushed out en masse.
This explains part of why 318,000 Black women lost employment between February and June 2025. These were real jobs. Real careers. Stability. The ability to support our families. Healthcare. Retirement. Hope.
And yes, provocation. Because sometimes the aggression is anything but passive. Sometimes a coworker “accidentally” makes racist jokes in your presence, testing your reaction. Sometimes a supervisor documents every minor mistake while letting others slide. Sometimes a customer films you, hoping you will snap so they can post it online and cost you your livelihood. The cruelty, the setup, all of it is real, and it is calculated.
We see it play out on social media every day. A Black woman in a service role is recorded during a tense moment, and the video goes viral. Context is stripped away. Nuance is erased. She is labeled “angry,” “difficult,” “unprofessional.” She loses her job. Meanwhile, the person who provoked her, who disrespected her, who violated her dignity? They face no consequences.
This is the world Black women are working in. Every. Single. Day.
Why This Book, Why Now
So why did I write Black Girl Magic: Navigating Microaggressions and Unconscious Bias in the Workplace? Because we need a blueprint. We need strategies. We need to know we are not alone, we are not crazy, and we are not overreacting.
This book focuses on action rather than empty platitudes. This book gives you the tools to name what is happening, understand the patterns, and learn how to protect your peace, your paycheck, and your purpose while navigating spaces that were never designed for you to thrive.
Each chapter opens with a powerful quote and closes with an interactive exercise, because I want you to use this book actively. Whether you are crafting your personal mission statement, practicing assertiveness scenarios, or building your network of support, this book gives you actionable tools you can apply immediately.
I weave in real-life stories: my own and those of other resilient Black women who have turned adversity into advocacy, pain into power. You will see yourself in these pages. You will recognize the moments when you were gaslit, when your expertise was questioned, when you were made to feel small. And you will learn how to respond with strategy rather than pure emotion.
But here is what makes this book different: it extends beyond survival. This book focuses on building wealth, wellness, and legacy. Because navigating microaggressions goes beyond keeping your job. This work is about negotiating your worth, securing your bag, and creating multiple income streams so you are never at the mercy of one employer, one client, one source of revenue.
As someone who has built income through speaking and training, coaching with the John Maxwell Team, creating coloring books and journals through Adult Coloring Therapy, and working with tools like SaaS platforms and financial products through Syncis and VitalHealth, I know firsthand that empowerment and economics go hand in hand. This book connects the dots between asserting your value in the workplace and building your net worth outside of it.
What You Will Walk Away With
When you read Black Girl Magic, you are getting practical application and proven strategies:
A framework for identifying microaggressions in real time so you can name what is happening and decide how to respond strategically, rather than reactively.
Scripts and scenarios for assertiveness because sometimes you need the exact words to say when someone crosses the line, undermines your authority, or tries to provoke you.
Strategies for building networks and alliances because isolation is a tool of oppression, and community is our superpower.
Wellness practices rooted in reality including actual mental health strategies, boundary-setting techniques, and ways to protect your energy when you are operating in hostile environments.
A roadmap for monetizing your expertise whether that means turning your corporate experience into consulting gigs, launching a side business, creating digital products, or positioning yourself as a speaker and thought leader.
This book is for the Black woman climbing the corporate ladder who is tired of being the “only one” in every meeting. This book is for the entrepreneur navigating contracts with corporate clients who do respect her boundaries. This book is for the woman working two jobs who still struggles to get ahead because the system is rigged. This book is for every Black woman who has ever been told she is “too much” or “never enough” and knows, deep down, that she is exactly right.
The Tools You Need for the Fight Ahead
Let me be clear: I wrote this book because those systems are staying in place for the foreseeable future, and in the meantime, we need to survive, thrive, and build.
We need to know how to turn a microaggression into a teaching moment without sacrificing our sanity. We need to know when to fight and when to redirect our energy toward something more fruitful. We need to know how to document bias so we are protected when things escalate. We need to know how to leave toxic environments without leaving opportunity behind.
And we need to build ecosystems around this work. That is why I created a coloring book companion to go along with Black Girl Magic, because creative reflection is powerful, and sometimes you need to process what you are learning in a different way. That is why I offer training and workshops through Fly Savvy Solutions, because organizations that are serious about change need more than a diversity statement; they need someone who can come in and do the real work. That is why I built tools around this content including digital workbooks, mini-courses, journal prompts, because different people learn differently, and we need resources that meet us where we are.
This Is Bigger Than a Book. This Is a Movement.
When Michelle Obama said, “When they go low, we go high,” she was talking about maintaining dignity in the face of disrespect. But let me add this: going high means staying vocal. Going high means demanding better. Going high means elevating ourselves, our standards, and our strategies while calling out the systems that keep trying to knock us down.
Black Girl Magic is a tool for that fight. A companion for the journey. A reminder that you are not alone, you are not imagining things, and you deserve every bit of success you are working toward.
Whether you are in a corner office or behind a cash register, whether you are negotiating six-figure deals or juggling shift schedules, this book is for you. Because Black women deserve workplaces that honor our brilliance, respect our humanity, and compensate us fairly. And until we have that workplace reality, and we are nowhere close yet, we need to arm ourselves with knowledge, strategy, and community.
Your Next Steps
Order Black Girl Magic: Navigating Microaggressions and Unconscious Bias in the Workplace today. Available on Amazon, at major retailers, and through my Stan Store.
Share this article. Tag a Black woman who needs to hear this message. Use the hashtag #FlySavvySol and let us build a movement of women who refuse to shrink, who refuse to settle, and who are ready to rise together.
Because we are building legacies right now. We are creating wealth. We are claiming our space. And we are doing it with grace, grit, and magic.
