What Transparency Taught Me

A Lesson in Voice, Reflection, and Growth

For months, I showed up early, gave my all, and made sure nothing fell through the cracks. I supported the team, streamlined processes, and stepped in whenever needed. I took pride in the work, not for recognition, but because doing things right matters to me. I also worked holidays that others celebrated—quietly making space for them to be with family while I covered responsibilities.

Every mile a quiet promise—I’m here, I care, I’ll do the work.

I’ve always been open about my faith—never forcefully, just with honesty. I’d share that I didn’t observe certain holidays and offered to step in so others could enjoy them. I never felt the need to overexplain or hide who I am. I welcomed questions, responded with patience, and appreciated genuine curiosity. These exchanges built bridges and mutual understanding. That’s the kind of workplace I believed we were all trying to create.

“Building bridges” between people.

The environment I was in reflected a strong religious identity—visible symbols, expressions, and language. I accepted that respectfully. It never made me uncomfortable. I simply took note of the culture and navigated it with mutual respect.

Not long after my positive review and subsequent raise, I had a one-on-one meeting with leadership. I came in encouraged—I had just received a raise and a positive review. I asked if I could be transparent. I was told yes: “Absolutely, I want you to come to me.” So I did.

I expressed how I sometimes felt unheard. That feedback I offered seemed to get lost, or needed to be repeated multiple times. That despite my contributions and positive relationships with peers, I didn’t always feel seen in the way that mattered most: my input. I brought up friction with a colleague and suggested I’d be open to a meeting to improve communication. I asked about the possibility of a title that reflected the responsibilities I had already taken on.

At the very end of our meeting, I brought up something I had quietly taken note of earlier: a habitual blessing—a gesture I wasn't used to seeing in a professional setting, done almost casually in response to everyday situations. I asked about it respectfully. Not to challenge, but to understand. The conversation lasted less than a minute. As soon as I sensed discomfort, I let it go. I moved on, assuming that would be the end of it.

A small moment or question can quietly shift the environment.

A few days later, I was let go.

No warning. No follow-up discussion. Just a decision delivered plainly: “You’re not a good fit for the team.”

I was shocked. I asked why. I expressed confusion. But the decision was final. So I did what I’ve always done: I stayed composed. I thanked my colleagues quietly, wished them well, and left.

It’s important to note: my concerns and conversation were directed toward management. My peers were supportive, respectful, and consistently collaborative. And while I didn’t always feel aligned with leadership, I do respect the role they play and the responsibilities they carry. This reflection isn’t an indictment—it’s an invitation to consider how difficult conversations might be handled with greater mutual understanding.

It’s taken time to process. At first, I questioned everything. Had I said something wrong? Was my feedback too direct? Did I ask too much?

Growth is ever evolving.

And with much reflection, here’s what I’ve come to:

What I Learned

• Transparency requires the right environment. It can’t just be welcomed in theory—it has to be supported in practice.

• Feedback is a sign of engagement, not defiance. I spoke up not to criticize, but to strengthen what was already working.

• Culture is nuanced. What feels casual to one person may feel significant to another. Asking questions can build understanding—but timing and tone matter.

• Respect goes both ways. I gave it consistently. I hoped it would be returned.

• Growth sometimes means letting go. Even of roles you worked hard for, if the environment no longer makes space for your voice.

I walk away from this chapter not bitter, but clearer.

I want to work in spaces where honesty is honored, where curiosity isn’t punished, and where feedback is seen as a sign of care—not conflict.

Never fear new beginnings.

This experience didn’t diminish me. It refined me. It reminded me who I am and what I value.

And for that, I’m grateful.