I worked hard, kept my head down, and made a meticulous, watertight case, supported by data-stuffed PowerPoints, for every idea I ever pitched. And still I worried that the reasons for my success would be questioned by even my most progressive white colleagues. I imagined that at cocktail parties, the bane of my socially anxious existence, they would gossip about me after I left their huddles—roll their eyes and snark to each other, between bites of crab cake, “Isn’t diversity wonderful?”
