Michelle: Most career advice is designed to help you climb the ladder. But what if the most popular advice for women is actually a broken ladder, built by and for a select few, leaving millions of women of color on the ground floor? Mark: That is a powerful and unsettling thought. It suggests that a lot of well-intentioned people are trying to climb a structure that was never designed for them in the first place. It’s a system that’s rigged from the start. Michelle: That's the explosive premise at the heart of The Memo: What Women of Color Need to Know to Secure a Seat at the Table by Minda Harts. Mark: And Harts is not just an observer. She has over 15 years of experience in corporate America and as a fundraising consultant. What's fascinating is that publishers initially told her there was ‘no audience’ for a book like this, which is the very invisibility she's fighting against. Michelle: Exactly. She wrote it as a direct response to books like Sheryl Sandberg's Lean In, which she felt completely ignored the realities of systemic bias. So, let's start there, with what Harts calls "The Ugly Truth."

Michelle: Harts describes being genuinely excited to read Lean In back in 2013. It was being hailed as this revolutionary guide for women. But as she read it, she felt a growing sense of confusion, and then disappointment. The advice just didn't connect with her experience as a Black woman in corporate America. Mark: What was the disconnect? Because on the surface, "leaning in"—being more assertive, speaking up—sounds like universal advice. Michelle: That’s the core of the problem. It assumes a level playing field. It assumes that when a white woman speaks up and a Black woman speaks up, their words are received in the same way. Harts argues they absolutely are not. She shares this story from early in her career that just perfectly illustrates the invisible minefield she had to navigate. Mark: Okay, I’m listening. Michelle: She was in her early twenties, working in a corporate job. She was driving her boss and a male colleague, both white, to a big client meeting. She was wearing a summer dress, sandals, and had painted her nails a burnt orange color. Mark: Sounds pretty normal. Michelle: You'd think. But in the car, her boss turns to her and says, "You people love your bright colors." And the other colleague chimes in, agreeing. And for the next fifteen minutes, they just riffed on this stereotype about Black people and bright colors. Mark: Hold on, a fifteen-minute conversation about the color of her nail polish? That's not just a joke, that's... an interrogation. It’s making her identity the subject of office commentary. Michelle: Precisely. And she’s young, she’s trying to build her career, so she just laughs it off. But inside, she’s confused and annoyed. This is a perfect example of a microaggression. It’s not an overt slur, but it’s this constant, draining reminder that you are seen as "other." It’s a tax that women of color pay every single day that their white colleagues don't. Mark: Wow. And when you’re carrying that weight, the advice to just "lean in" harder must sound completely tone-deaf. Michelle: It’s more than tone-deaf; it can be dangerous. For many women of color, speaking up more forcefully can get them labeled as "angry" or "aggressive," stereotypes they are already fighting against. Harts has this incredible quote in the book where she says, "If I leaned in any more, my face would be on the damn table." Mark: That really paints a picture. It’s not about a lack of effort; it’s about pushing against a system that’s designed to push back harder against you. So, her critique of Lean In isn't just academic, it's born from these painful, real-world experiences. Michelle: Exactly. She realized that a different memo was needed. A career guide that acknowledged the ugly truth of racism and sexism and gave women of color strategies that were actually built for the world they live in, not an idealized version of it. Mark: Okay, so if the official rulebook is broken, Harts must offer a new one. You mentioned building a 'squad' and playing the political game. How does that work in practice? It sounds like something out of a spy movie.

Michelle: It kind of is! Harts is very clear that success is not a solo sport. You have to build what she calls your "squad"—a network of mentors, sponsors, and peers who will support you, advocate for you, and give you the real scoop on what’s happening in the office. Mark: I get the concept of networking, but Harts seems to be talking about something more... strategic. Michelle: Oh, it's absolutely strategic. She talks about the importance of "social capital," which is basically the value you get from your relationships. And she tells this story that I think a lot of people will recognize, about a colleague she calls "Becky." Mark: I have a feeling I know where this is going. Michelle: Becky is not the most qualified person on the team, but she never misses a happy hour. She laughs at the manager Bob's jokes. She finds out Bob loves red velvet cupcakes and brings them in for his birthday. Meanwhile, other, more qualified women of color on the team are heads-down, doing the work, and often skip the after-work events because they have other responsibilities or just don't feel comfortable. Mark: And let me guess, when a promotion comes up... Michelle: Bob gives it to Becky. Because he feels more comfortable with her. He sees her as a "team player." Harts has this great line: "Stuff happens after 6 p.m." Decisions are made, trust is built, and opportunities are given out in those informal settings. Mark: This feels so cynical, though. Is she really saying you have to play these games and bake cupcakes to get ahead? Michelle: It's not about being inauthentic. It's about understanding the currency of the workplace. And Harts gives her own example of how she did this in a way that felt true to her. She calls it "Strategic Hallway Chats." Mark: Okay, that sounds less cynical than "Operation Cupcake." Michelle: Right? She wanted to get on the radar of a senior leader named Rob, but his office was far from her cube. So she figured out his schedule. She knew he had a standing appointment at a certain time every day. She would strategically "slide by" his office right as he was leaving, when his door would be open, and just say a quick hello. Mark: That’s pretty clever. Michelle: At first, it was just a "hello." Then the chats got a little longer each time. Eventually, after building that rapport, she felt comfortable enough to ask if she could schedule a formal meeting to share some of her ideas. And because he already knew her and felt comfortable with her, he said yes. He started thinking of her for committees, for new opportunities. She says he essentially created a seat at the table for her. Mark: That’s a brilliant distinction. She didn't fake a personality; she just strategically created opportunities for authentic connection. She wasn't playing a game so much as she was making sure the key players knew she was on the field. Michelle: Exactly. She learned the unwritten rules and used them to her advantage. It’s about being intentional. And that’s a huge part of her message. You can’t just wait for your good work to be noticed. You have to build your squad, understand the politics, and make your own opportunities. Mark: But even with the best squad and the most brilliant strategies, you're still operating within a system that has these inherent biases. It feels like you can only get so far on your own. Michelle: You’re absolutely right. And that brings us to what might be the most challenging and important part of the book: her message to allies, especially white women.

Michelle: Harts dedicates an entire chapter to her white readers, and she doesn't pull any punches. It's written with what she calls "frustration and love." She’s essentially saying, "We need you to do better." Mark: I can imagine that's a tough chapter for some people to read. How does she frame it? Michelle: She uses this incredibly powerful story from her own life that serves as a metaphor for the entire issue. She was on a crowded train in New York City. A white woman standing next to her stepped on her shoes. Mark: Okay, happens on the subway. Michelle: Then it happened again. And a third time. Finally, Minda politely said, "Excuse me, could you please be careful?" And the woman looked at her, completely blank, and said, "I didn't see you there." And then proceeded to step on her shoes two more times. Mark: Wow. That is... chilling. "I didn't see you." It's the perfect, awful metaphor for invisibility. Michelle: It’s everything. It’s the feeling of being overlooked in meetings, of your ideas being ignored until a white colleague says the same thing, of being physically and professionally invisible. And this is where she challenges the very idea of "allyship." Mark: What’s wrong with being an ally? It sounds like a good thing. Michelle: Harts argues that the term has become passive, even performative. She says, "I am tired of the word 'ally.' And I think many people are wearing this ally badge without doing anything to earn it." An ally might post a black square on Instagram or say they support diversity. But that's not enough. Mark: So what does a 'success partner' do that an 'ally' doesn't? Michelle: A success partner takes action. They use their privilege and influence to actively create opportunities for women of color. Harts gives concrete examples. At a panel she was on, she asked all the self-proclaimed allies in the room to stop quoting the wage gap statistic that "women make 80 cents on the dollar." Mark: Why? That seems like a key fact in the fight for equality. Michelle: Because that number is for white women. For Black women, it's closer to 63 cents. For Latina women, it's 54 cents. A success partner, she says, is the person in the meeting who corrects that statistic and says, "Actually, we need to be more specific, because women of color are impacted far more." A success partner is the manager who, when reviewing candidates, actively questions why the shortlist is all white. A success partner is the colleague who advocates for your promotion in rooms you're not in. Mark: It’s the difference between sympathy and action. Between saying "I see you" and actually making sure you are seen by the people in power. Michelle: Precisely. It’s about moving from a passive stance to an active partnership. It’s not about "saving" anyone; it's about leveraging your own seat at the table to pull up a folding chair for someone else, to borrow a quote from Shirley Chisholm that Harts loves.

Mark: So, this book isn't just a career guide. It's a map of a hidden landscape. It's exposing the traps, like the one-size-fits-all advice of Lean In. It's teaching you how to navigate the political terrain with your 'squad'. And finally, it's asking others to help bulldoze a new path. Michelle: Exactly. And Harts' final message is one of immense power and visibility. The last chapters of her book are not just advice; they are a declaration. She lists the names of dozens and dozens of successful women of color—CEOs like Ursula Burns, the first Black woman to lead a Fortune 500 company; political trailblazers like Carol Moseley Braun; innovators in every field. She's essentially saying, "We are here. We have always been here. Say our names." It's a powerful refusal to be invisible. Mark: That’s an incredible way to end. It’s not just about getting a seat at the table; it’s about recognizing the women who have built their own tables, and are holding the door open for others. It leaves you with a really important question: in your own workplace, who might you be unintentionally 'not seeing'? Michelle: A question we should all be asking. Mark: This has been incredibly insightful, Michelle. A powerful and necessary book. Michelle: This is Aibrary, signing off.