Candid Conversations Newsletter: Convergence – A Journey of Becoming

Some intersections don’t come with stop signs.
They come with mirrors.

A few days ago, I had a job interview.

We greeted each other with courtesy and mutual respect. Or at least as much as either of us could manage.
Zoom tends to flatten nuance like that.
It’s convenient, but also oddly exhausting.
A kind of screen-based performance art, shared by everyone on the call.

Then came the question.

You know it. It always comes first:
“Tell me a little about yourself.”

But lately, that question has felt heavier.
Not because I don’t know who I am.
But because I do.
And because who I am depends on when, where, and who’s asking.

In a world where jobs are being automated, restructured, and filtered through layers of algorithms,
that question isn’t just about background.
It’s about identity.
Value.
Visibility.
Survival.

So how do you answer without performing?
Without selling yourself like a product?
Without turning your story into a curated highlight reel?

That day, I didn’t give the usual rundown. Honestly, I didn’t have the energy for the Greatest Hits version of myself.

Instead, I tried something different. Maybe a little risky.

I talked about how I work. How I see. How I move through the world.
About being somewhere between strategy, culture, and emotional awareness, even if that’s not a bullet point on a resume.

I said I lead with clarity. Or at least, I try to. Not just with credentials, but with actual presence.

Because when you strip the question down, it’s really asking something else:
How do you see the world? And your place in it?

The Game We Didn’t Know We Were Playing 🎱

I just finished a book that kind of rewired something in me.
One of those quiet jolts that stays with you. I written about it in a few of my past Newsletter edition 

It’s called The Status Game by Will Storr. I’ve written about it in a few of my past newsletter editions.
And it made me realize how often we’re caught in games we never knowingly agreed to play.

Storr says most of us are chasing three things, whether we know it or not:

• Dominance

• Virtue

• Success

Because those things signal belonging.
They tell the world, and ourselves—that we matter.

So we perform.
We try to be capable.
Or kind.
Or impressive.

Sometimes all three.
We shape-shift to fit systems that don’t always see us fully and rarely hold space for our contradictions.

Another book I read a while back is Talent by Daniel Goleman. He takes the conversation further and questions whether what we reward is even about talent at all.

Or is it just polish?
Pedigree?
Proximity to power?

Because we don’t all get seen the same way.

What looks like merit is often access.
What looks like leadership is sometimes just comfort with the spotlight.

And that’s where intersectionality matters.
Not just in theory, but in practice.

As Patricia Hill Collins and Sirma Bilge have long pointed out,
intersectionality isn’t about stacking disadvantages.
It’s about understanding how race, gender, class, ability, and more interlock and overlap.
They shape not just experience, but who gets seen, who gets heard, and who gets believed.

If we don’t name that,
we risk mistaking performance for purpose.

Convergence as a Quiet Return 🟰

There’s a moment, and it usually doesn’t come with fireworks,
when the wins stop meaning what they used to.

You’ve climbed.
You’ve conformed.
You’ve done the dance.

And yet,
something inside still feels off.

That’s what I call convergence.

It’s when your identities, values, memories, and questions
finally stop competing and begin sitting at the same table.

It’s not dramatic.
It’s quiet.
But real.

You stop chasing gold stars.
At some point, you just get tired.

And in that tiredness, maybe something better shows up.
Not validation.
Just alignment.

You ask yourself deeper questions.
Not just what do I want to build,
but why does it matter?

It’s when emotional truth meets intellectual honesty.

It’s when intersectionality stops being something you quote
and starts being something you embody.
In your work.
Your decisions.
Your relationships.

This kind of return, this kind of re-entry, isn’t just about feeling more whole.
It’s about surviving together.

Because disconnection doesn’t just fracture self.
It fractures systems.
And fractured systems make fertile ground for conflict.

Bridging the Gaps That Split Us 🌉

When systems only see parts of us,
they erase the rest.

That’s what Patricia Hill Collins calls invisibility.

And invisibility becomes harm.
It grows into marginalization.
Then resentment.
Then rupture—political, generational, relational.

We’ve seen that story unfold before.

And no,
the answer isn’t just better policies
or polished diversity statements.

It’s deeper.

It’s cultural.
Spiritual.
Interpersonal.

The real work of convergence isn't in being polished.
It's in being present.

It’s about staying in the room when the conversation gets uncomfortable.
It’s about holding complexity without shutting down.
It’s about being willing to be real, even when real is messy.

Intersectionality, when lived, becomes less about calling out and more about calling in.

To listen.
To repair.
To rehumanize.

Choosing the Game, Not Just Playing It 💪

Will Storr says originality isn’t about rejecting the game.
It’s about knowing which one you’re playing and why.

Goleman reminds us:
Real talent doesn’t perform for applause.
It performs for meaning.

So maybe the real question isn’t how do I win,
but what am I playing for?

That’s what convergence asks of us.

To stop letting external systems define our worth.
And to start letting internal values guide our direction.

A Few Things I’m Asking Myself Lately 🗣️

• What am I hiding in the name of “being professional”?
  → Probably too much. I’m learning to give myself more grace.

• Which beliefs don’t fit anymore?
  → Some I inherited. Some I outgrew. Still figuring it out.

• Am I solving problems that actually matter to me?
  → That’s the goal. Intention over performance.

• Am I showing value, or chasing validation?
  →. Depends on the day and context

• Is my impact something people actually feel—or just assume I have because I sound smart?
  → Hard one. Trying to stay grounded in the real.

The Mirror Doesn’t Lie 🪞

The hardest part of convergence isn’t finding clarity.
It’s holding it.

Without collapsing under it.
Without needing one truth to cancel the others.

It’s staying soft in the face of complexity.
Curious in the face of discomfort.
Whole in the presence of contradiction.

Because you’re not here to play a role.
You’re here to be real.

And in a world hooked on metrics and image,
that might be the most radical move of all.

So don’t just reflect.
Return.
To what matters.
To who you are when no one’s watching.
To the questions that still make you feel alive.

Let that be the game you choose.
Before someone else chooses it for you.