The Job Hunt That Isn’t a Hunt — It’s a Wall

I have applied to more jobs than I can count. Dozens. Hundreds. Roles I could do in my sleep, roles I was born to do: writing jobs, leadership roles, positions that needed craft and grit. I’ve published essays, built companies, led teams, and been recognized for my work. Still: one interview. One.

That interview felt like a miracle. The hiring manager — a woman — saw me immediately. We connected, we laughed at the same dark jokes. She told me, “You’re exactly what we need.” For the first time in months, I walked away feeling almost buoyant, almost human again.

But here’s the catch: she was not the decision-maker. The final call was made by a male CEO who never even met me. She pushed for me. I know she did. But when the men are the ones who make the hiring decisions, they rarely hire women as brilliant as me — and I guess they never hire women as brilliant as me who were kidnapped and trafficked. That’s my guess. The woman who saw me couldn’t override the system designed to erase me. The CEO said no, and that was that.

Here I am — homeless on a porch — because I am an extraordinary woman in every way, and men hate that. Men hate extraordinary women, unless they can have us reduced to property, kept as a secret, or literally enslaved. Survive, and you become a threat. Speak, and you become unemployable.