I've noticed a fascinating pattern on Tech Twitter lately: Someone achieves rapid success in their career β maybe landing a prestigious role at FAANG, got a great degree, dressed well for their accomplishments, got into their dream college, or built a successful tech platform β and immediately, the narratives start flying. 'They just got lucky.' 'They must know someone.' 'They're probably not even doing real engineering work.' 'They're trying too hard.' 'They're just focused on looks, not substance.' People rush to create stories that diminish others' achievements, often without having any insight into the person's actual journey, skills, or work ethic.
What's particularly interesting is how these narratives often try to create false dichotomies: that you can't be both polished and technical, that you can't be both young and experienced, that you can't be both fashion-forward and a serious engineer. These arbitrary limitations say more about the people creating them than the ones they're trying to box in.
It's a peculiar form of digital gatekeeping β attempting to control someone else's narrative to make their success seem less legitimate or less earned. What's most interesting is that these narratives often come from people who haven't achieved similar milestones themselves. They're writing stories about paths they've never walked, trying to define boundaries they've never pushed.
In tech, I've seen this same dynamic play out countless times in my own career, but in more direct and personal ways.
Let me share a recent experience that perfectly illustrates this dynamic. I had been working as a data architect on contract for a major pet e-commerce company, performing well enough that they wanted to transition me to a full-time role. Exciting, right? But there was a catch β I needed to reinterview with their Director of IT. What happened next was telling.
Before we could even dive into a meaningful discussion about my work and achievements, the Director immediately attempted to diminish my role. 'You're not really a data architect,' he declared, 'you're just a data modeler.' No examination of my work. No discussion of my achievements. Just an immediate attempt to rewrite my narrative into something smaller, something that made more sense to him.
The irony of this situation was staggering. At that very moment, I had just:
Even more telling? The Director of Data Architecture β his peer who had spent six months recruiting me specifically for my unique expertise in learning analytics β was so impressed with my work that he championed bringing me on full-time. This was the same director who had specifically sought me out because the organization lacked learning analytics experience.
The cognitive dissonance was remarkable. How could I 'just' be a data modeler when I was architecting enterprise-wide solutions that were transforming their learning and HR analytics capabilities? The answer, of course, had nothing to do with my abilities and everything to do with his preconceptions. It was easier for him to try to reduce my role to something that fit his worldview than to acknowledge that his understanding of what a data architect could look like might need updating.
This wasn't an isolated incident. In another recent interview for a data governance specialist position, the interviewer opened with an unusual statement. He said he'd explain the role and architecture to me, and that 'the questions I ask afterwards would determine my level of expertise.' Think about that for a moment. It is quite normal to judge the candidateβs level of expertise in an interview but the need to announce his judgment criteria, as if it were a warning, was not necessary. It felt less like an interview and more like an attempt at intimidation.
The kicker? After I asked my questions (which I'm certain impressed him, given his shift in demeanor), he then scrutinized my resume, questioning whether I 'JUST' had a Snowflake certificate or actual experience. This from someone who had selected my resume himself, where it clearly showed extensive Snowflake experience in two different roles before I even obtained the certification. I had literally gotten the certification to formalize the expertise I'd already developed through years of hands-on work.
What these experiences share is a common thread: the immediate assumption that someone young, especially a young Black woman, couldn't possibly have accumulated substantial technical expertise. Rather than approaching the conversation with curiosity about how I'd achieved my successes, there was an immediate impulse to find ways to diminish or discredit them. It's as if my very existence in these spaces challenged a narrative they'd grown comfortable with about who can be an expert and how long it should take them to get there.
What's really happening in these situations? It's not actually about qualifications or experience β it's about disrupted expectations. When you're young, Black, female, and succeeding in senior technical roles, you're already challenging multiple preconceptions. Add to that achieving significant milestones in half the time it took others, and you're not just challenging expectations β you're shattering them.
This disruption often triggers a fascinating response: instead of questioning their assumptions, people question your achievements. It's easier to try to diminish your success than to expand their worldview of what success can look like.
The tech industry, for all its talk of innovation and disruption, can be surprisingly traditional in its expectations of career progression. There's an unspoken 'timeline' that many believe you should follow, invisible boxes you should fit into. When you don't conform to these expectations β whether through accelerated success, a non-traditional background, or simply bringing your whole self to your role β it creates cognitive dissonance for those who cling to traditional narratives.
In these moments of dismissal or subtle intimidation, what we're really witnessing is insecurity masquerading as authority. Think about it: someone who has worked in the field for decades being confronted with a younger professional who has achieved similar levels of expertise in half the time. Instead of being curious about how you accelerated your learning or what unique perspectives you might bring, they retreat into gatekeeping behaviors.
The truth is, their attempts to rewrite your story often have very little to do with you and everything to do with their own narratives about success, authority, and who gets to claim expertise in tech. When someone tries to diminish your role from 'data architect' to 'just a data modeler,' they're not actually evaluating your work β they're trying to preserve their own understanding of how long it should take to reach certain professional milestones.
So how do you respond when someone tries to rewrite your story? My experience with the pet e-commerce company offers a clear example: you walk away. After that interaction with the Director of IT, I decided against continuing with the interview process. This wasn't about hurt feelings β it was about recognizing a fundamental misalignment. If a leader's first instinct is to diminish rather than discover, that reveals important information about the culture you'd be entering.
But walking away isn't just about saying 'no' to opportunities that don't serve you. It's about saying 'yes' to your own worth. It's understanding that sometimes the most powerful move is recognizing when someone else's limitations aren't your problem to solve.
Over time, I've developed what I call 'projection detection' β the ability to quickly identify when someone's response to my achievements is more about their insecurities than my capabilities. Here are the telltale signs:
When you spot these behaviors, remember: you don't need to defend your story to those who aren't equipped to understand it. Your achievements speak for themselves. The data architect role where I led multiple teams through complex migrations? That work didn't become less impactful because someone tried to relabel it. The expertise I've developed in Snowflake across multiple roles didn't diminish because someone questioned it.
Instead of getting caught up in defending your narrative to others, focus on continuing to write it on your own terms. Keep building, keep achieving, keep bringing your full self to your work. Success is the best response to skepticism, and excellence doesn't need external validation to be real.
The tech industry thrives on innovation and disruption β except, apparently, when that disruption comes in the form of people who challenge traditional notions of what success should look like and how long it should take to achieve it. But here's the truth: your success is not up for debate, and your story is not theirs to write.
When I reflect on these experiences β the attempted diminishment of my role as a data architect, the subtle intimidation tactics in interviews, the questioning of clearly documented credentials β I see them now for what they really are: checkpoints in my journey that confirmed I was breaking the right barriers and challenging the right assumptions.
Every time someone tries to put you in a smaller box, remember: their inability to imagine your potential is their limitation, not yours. You don't need to make your success story smaller or slower or more palatable for those who aren't ready to accept that excellence doesn't follow a predetermined timeline.
For every person in tech who's achieving at their own pace, who's bringing their whole self to their role, who's facing these subtle (and not-so-subtle) attempts to diminish their achievements: keep going. Keep excelling. Keep breaking those implied timelines and invisible barriers. Your success isn't defined by those who try to minimize it, but by the impact you create and the paths you forge.
Because at the end of the day, the most powerful story isn't the one others try to write for you β it's the one you write for yourself, one achievement at a time. And that story? It's just getting started.
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