Narrator: At nineteen, a promising college sophomore named Elizabeth Leiba walked into a pharmacy to drop off film for a volunteer organization. As she left, the store’s theft alarm blared. A cashier found a pack of AA batteries in her bag—batteries she had purchased days earlier. Despite her calm explanation, she was taken to a back office, pressured to sign a document admitting to shoplifting, and when she refused, she was arrested. Sitting in the back of a police car, handcuffed and powerless, a profound sense of silence washed over her. This traumatic experience of false arrest and racial profiling taught her a painful lesson: in certain spaces, her voice did not matter. It was a lesson that would shape her for years, forcing her to suppress her authentic self to survive.

This journey from imposed silence to reclaimed power is the heart of her book, I'm Not Yelling: A Black Woman's Guide to Navigating the Workplace. Leiba dissects the systemic forces that mute Black women and provides a powerful roadmap for not only finding one's voice but harnessing it as an instrument of power, authenticity, and liberation.

Narrator: The book confronts the popular concept of "imposter syndrome"—the internal feeling of being a fraud—and reframes it as "imposter treatment." Leiba argues that for many Black women, feelings of inadequacy are not a personal failing but a rational response to being systematically treated as an imposter. This shift in perspective is critical, moving the burden of blame from the individual to the biased systems they navigate.

Leiba’s own "aha" moment came during a conversation with a publisher, Martin Pratt. When she mentioned her "imposter syndrome," he stopped her and said, "Stop saying that, Liz. You’re not an imposter, and you never have been." This simple but profound statement forced her to realize that her feelings of not belonging were a direct result of hostile environments, not an internal flaw. This is echoed in the experiences of figures like Michelle Obama, who, despite her immense accomplishments, spoke of feeling like a visitor on campus at Princeton after teachers discouraged her from applying and a roommate's mother tried to have her removed because of her race. She wasn't suffering from a syndrome; she was being treated as someone who didn't belong. By identifying the issue as external treatment, the book empowers women to stop internalizing bias and start questioning the environments that create it.

Narrator: To survive in spaces that treat them as imposters, Black women often engage in exhausting behaviors of conformity. The book explores two of the most significant: code-switching and hair politics. Code-switching, a concept rooted in W.E.B. Du Bois's idea of "double consciousness," is the act of altering one's speech, mannerisms, and appearance to be more "digestible" to the dominant white culture. It is a survival tactic, but one that comes at the high cost of emotional and psychological exhaustion.

Leiba recounts her own experience as a podcast co-host, where a colleague noted how much more relaxed and authentic she was in private conversations compared to her reserved, "professional" persona during interviews. The murder of George Floyd became a catalyst for her to abandon this performance, as she realized that no amount of assimilation could protect Black people from systemic racism. This decision to embrace her authentic self extended to her physical appearance, particularly her hair. The book delves into the long history of hair discrimination, from the 18th-century Tignon Laws in Louisiana that forced Black women to cover their hair, to modern-day workplace biases against natural styles like Afros, locs, and braids. Research from Duke University confirms this bias, showing that Black women with natural hairstyles are often perceived as less professional and competent. The book champions the CROWN Act, legislation designed to outlaw this form of discrimination, framing the choice to wear one's natural hair not just as a style preference, but as an act of resistance and self-affirmation.

Narrator: The title of the book, I'm Not Yelling, is a direct response to a common microaggression used to police the tone and dismiss the passion of Black women. The book defines microaggressions as the subtle, often unintentional, daily slights, insults, and invalidations that communicate hostility and bias. While a single incident might seem minor, their cumulative effect is a "death by a thousand cuts" that can lead to severe psychological and even physical harm, including anxiety, depression, and high blood pressure.

Leiba shares a powerful personal story from a corporate buyout. As a project management expert, her insights were repeatedly challenged and dismissed by junior, predominantly white colleagues in meetings. When she finally spoke up to an interrupter, she was met with awkward silence. Later, her own Black female supervisor advised her to "fix her face," essentially telling her to suppress her valid frustration to make others comfortable. This experience highlights a key challenge: the burden of managing the emotional fallout of a microaggression often falls on the victim. The book argues that addressing these aggressions, while difficult, is essential for self-preservation. It requires setting firm boundaries, holding perpetrators accountable, and building a support network to validate one's experiences and combat the gaslighting that often follows.

Narrator: Navigating hostile professional environments cannot be done alone. The book emphasizes the critical importance of building a strong support system through mentorship, sponsorship, and sisterhood. However, it also acknowledges the unique barriers Black women face. With only 4% of C-suite positions held by women of color, finding mentors who look like them and have reached the highest levels of success is incredibly difficult.

The book reframes mentorship as a fluid, authentic relationship rather than a formal, transactional one. It highlights the wisdom of seeking multiple mentors, as exemplified by retired Coast Guard Commander Christy Rutherford, who had thirteen different mentors—Black men, white men, and eventually a woman—to guide her through different aspects of her career. The book also distinguishes mentorship (giving advice) from sponsorship (active advocacy). A sponsor is someone who uses their influence to amplify, boost, connect, and defend their protégé. This can be seen in the actions of former CEO Jerry MacCleary, who consistently defended female employees and employees of color against unfair criticism in evaluation meetings, dramatically increasing diversity in his company's leadership. Ultimately, the book encourages Black women to build their own "board of directors" and to create communities of sisterhood that provide the validation and support corporate America often fails to deliver.

Narrator: For generations, the goal has been to get a "seat at the table." But the book poses a radical question: what if that table is fundamentally broken? What if it's located in a building designed to keep you out? Citing data from Lean In and other sources, Leiba paints a stark picture of corporate America, where Black women are underpaid, under-sponsored, and face constant burnout. In this reality, simply fighting for a seat may not be the most empowering path.

The book offers an alternative: build your own empire. This is a call for entrepreneurship, for creating multiple streams of income, and for defining success on one's own terms. Leiba uses the Seminole Tribe of Florida as a powerful analogy. After facing oppression from the U.S. government, the tribe built its own economic empire through gaming and other ventures, achieving financial independence and prioritizing the well-being of its own people. Leiba’s own journey mirrors this. After reaching the C-suite and finding it unfulfilling and toxic, she left to build her own brand as a writer, speaker, and educator. She discovered that the tables she built for herself were far more welcoming and rewarding than the ones she had fought to join. The ultimate power, the book suggests, lies in recognizing your worth and deciding whether to demand a better seat or to build a new table altogether.

Narrator: The single most important takeaway from I'm Not Yelling is that a Black woman's authentic voice is her ultimate source of power. It is not a liability to be managed or a flaw to be corrected, but a non-negotiable asset essential for liberation. The journey the book maps—from understanding the systemic forces of silence to actively building supportive communities and creating one's own opportunities—is a clarion call to stop shrinking and start expanding.

It leaves readers with a profound and transformative challenge. Instead of constantly asking, "Am I good enough to be in this space?" we must learn to ask a different question, one articulated by diversity and inclusion strategist Madison Butler: "Does this space deserve me?" This shift in perspective is the first step toward reclaiming not just a voice, but a future defined by one's own power and peace.