Learning to Feel at Home in Rooms That Weren’t Built for You

The Quiet Struggle to Feel Like You Belong and the Journey to Believing You’re Good Enough

Belonging isn’t something they give you it’s something you decide to own.

Some days I still feel like I’m walking into the wrong room. Like everyone else knows something I don’t the unspoken code of belonging. I’ve been here long enough to know I’m capable, but that quiet voice that asks “are you really good at this?” never seems to leave. I’ve learned that confidence isn’t a switch you flip; it’s a slow becoming one that takes shape in the quiet moments when you choose to believe you’ve earned your seat, even when no one says it out loud.

Especially as women and even more so as Black women belonging can feel complicated. It’s not just about performance; it’s about presence. It’s the way you overthink how you sound on a call, how you phrase an idea, how you show up not because you doubt your ability, but because you’ve learned how easily confidence can be misunderstood. There’s this unspoken pressure to always have it together, to always deliver, to never slip because the margin for error feels so damn small.

I’ve had seasons where I worked myself into burnout trying to prove I deserved to be there confusing overachievement with security. But belonging doesn’t come from overextending yourself to be seen. It comes from deciding you’re worthy, even when the room forgets to remind you.

We don’t talk enough about the emotional side of ambition especially for women who carry so much of themselves into spaces that were never built for their softness, their creativity, their fullness. I’ve learned that it’s okay to take up space as you are. To stop editing your brilliance just to make others comfortable. To stop shrinking your personality in places that need your perspective.

Lately, I’ve stopped chasing the version of success that needs constant validation. I’ve started measuring my growth in smaller, quieter moments when I speak up even if my voice shakes, when I stop apologizing for my confidence, when I look around a room and think, even if I don’t look or sound like everyone here, I still belong here.

Because maybe belonging isn’t something you wait to be given maybe it’s something you claim.

So here’s the reminder I keep coming back to: you don’t need louder confidence, you need quieter proof. The proof that you’ve done the work. The proof that you’ve grown. The proof that you belong not because you fit the mold, but because you dared to show up as yourself. The moment you start believing that, the room stops feeling so heavy.