Navigating the Double Bind: The Pressure of Being Black and Unmarried in Corporate Spaces

The holiday season is a time for celebration, reflection, and connection. It’s a season filled with company parties, family gatherings, and festive events where the expectation is often to show up with a partner or surrounded by loved ones. As a young, unmarried Black mother working in Industrial Real Estate, I often find myself feeling out of place during this time. My colleagues, many of whom are married with children, have their lives centered around shared experiences—family vacations, joint investments, and the easy rhythm of partnership. Meanwhile, I’m navigating my career and raising my son alone. The contrast between my life and theirs is palpable, and as the year winds down and holiday parties approach, those feelings of isolation and comparison only seem to intensify.

Despite the progress made in promoting diversity and inclusion in many industries, the reality for unmarried Black professionals is often fraught with unique challenges. As an unmarried Black woman in a male-dominated field like commercial real estate, I constantly find myself negotiating my space in environments where most colleagues are in committed relationships or navigating family life. It’s not just at work either—these dynamics seep into the social circles I encounter at my son’s school and in the larger community.

Being one of the few Black professionals in my industry, I often feel the weight of my identity on my shoulders. The subtle pressure to perform, to excel, and to prove myself can be overwhelming at times. But what compounds these pressures is the reality of being unmarried. In workspaces where most colleagues are married or engaged, where discussions often revolve around spouses, children, and family plans, it can feel like I’m on the outside looking in. The conversations always seem to drift back to family—vacations with partners, plans for the holidays, joint financial decisions, and shared family goals. And there I am, in these spaces, trying to connect and contribute, but unable to fully relate.

The holidays make this feeling even more pronounced. In a world where couples and families are celebrated, I sometimes wonder if I fit the mold. As a Black, unmarried mother, showing up alone can feel like a statement I didn’t intend to make. I watch my colleagues and friends with husbands, fiancés, or partners by their side and feel the subtle pressure to be in a similar situation. But my reality is different. It’s just me and my son, navigating this world alone but together.

This pressure to conform to the "traditional" family unit is not only present during the holidays but also throughout the year. At work, the social dynamics often center around family life—discussions about investments made as a couple, joint trips, or the ease of navigating work-life balance with a partner. I can’t help but feel like I’m falling behind. While my peers talk about home renovations or vacation plans with their spouses, I’m focusing on building a career, raising my son, and figuring out how to balance it all. It can be isolating to hear these conversations, especially when it feels like there’s an unspoken assumption that family life should come before everything else.

At my son’s school, the dynamic is no different. We live in one of the most affluent areas in the city, and the families at his school reflect that. Most of the other parents are married or in relationships, attending school events with their partners in tow. I often feel like I’m standing on the sidelines, out of sync with the rest of the group. The other mothers, talking about joint family vacations or the ease of juggling family responsibilities, create a sense of disconnection. I can’t help but wonder if I’m being judged, or if they see me as incomplete because I’m navigating this journey on my own.

But despite these feelings of isolation, I’ve found ways to push through. I spent 2.5 years with someone, and while the love was there, the reality of where we are in life presented its own challenges. We’re both navigating different spaces, trying to figure out how to move forward together while managing our individual goals and responsibilities. Most times, it felt like we wouldn’t make it to the next chapter, and I felt that pressure weighing heavily on me. It’s hard not to feel like the clock is ticking, especially when everything around me—work, family, friends—seems to be moving at a different pace. I know that some of the pressure I feel in my social spaces, I often unintentionally put on him. It was easy to project my fears and frustrations onto someone I care about, which ultimately created distance between us rather than bringing us closer. The weight of the expectations I feel—at work, in my community, and even from within myself— drove us apart, resulting in pushing him away by not being able to fully embrace our journey together. Sometimes I wonder if I tried too hard to fit him into a mold that doesn’t suit us both. The pressure to be in sync with others and to have a traditional family dynamic can make me question if I did enough in my relationship or if I should have expected more. This internal struggle, coupled with the demands of my career and personal life, often leaves me feeling drained and unsure of the path ahead.

Being unmarried and Black in a world that constantly emphasizes family as the standard for success is not easy. But it’s also an opportunity to carve out space for myself, to embrace my unique narrative, and to build the life that works for me and my son. Success doesn’t look the same for everyone, and the pressure to fit into someone else’s mold only serves to distract from my own path. I continue to remind myself that my place in this world is not contingent on having a partner by my side or a family unit that looks like anyone else’s. I am enough as I am.

One of the most important things I’ve learned through this process is the power of connection. Through organizations like CREW Atlanta and other professional networks, I’ve found a sense of community that goes beyond just shared family experiences. While many of the women I meet are married or in relationships, they still recognize my worth as a professional. These networks offer an opportunity to share challenges, build solidarity, and find mentorship from women who understand what it’s like to navigate a world where you’re often the only one who looks like you—or lives like you. And these connections remind me that I don’t have to conform to any one idea of success to be successful. My experiences, my identity, and my journey are all valuable in their own right.

The holiday season was a reminder that, while family can be a source of joy and celebration, it is not the sole measure of a person’s worth. For unmarried Black professionals, the journey is one of resilience, self-empowerment, and staying true to who we are, no matter how different our lives may look from others. This season, as I navigated holiday parties, company events, and school gatherings, I choose to celebrate my individuality, my strength, and the unique journey I’m on with my son.