In a recent encounter at the studio, I arrived a bit late and shared a troubling experience I had faced. Some colleagues reacted with skepticism, asking, “Are you sure?” or suggesting alternative explanations like, “Maybe it was a license plate issue.” Their disbelief was palpable. I later detailed this incident on my show’s Facebook page, where, although I received much encouragement from followers, I encountered similar incredulity from some viewers.
As women and people of color, our narratives are often dismissed. We frequently hear comments like: “You’re exaggerating,” “Stop being so sensitive,” or “Well, if you hadn’t…”. The common thread here, whether it’s in discussions about domestic violence or daily micro-aggressions, is a culture of dismissal.
I recently came across an inspiring talk by a media icon of mine, Lila Jenkins, who founded a platform dedicated to women’s experiences. During her speech at a conference in Seattle, she emphasized the importance of believing women when they articulate their stories: “One of the most radical things you can do is to actually believe women when they talk about their experiences.”
Imagine the impact of simply believing someone when they share a troubling experience. While we often readily accept positive narratives, we need to extend that same trust when someone speaks of their struggles. I once dated someone who brushed off a woman’s sexual harassment case by saying, “You know women make up so much of that stuff.” Such dismissals highlight a troubling mindset that diminishes the seriousness of these issues.
I’m heartened to see the strength we possess as women, minorities, and informed individuals to raise our voices and demand change. To everyone who might hesitate to engage: remember, you have a tremendous power every day—the power to believe.
Reflecting on my commute through Washington Heights, where I often traveled from a predominantly Dominican neighborhood to a suburb with a significantly lower percentage of Black and Latino residents, I recall a particular morning in 2008. As I exited the Palisades, I noticed three stopped vehicles: a van with a Latino driver and a police cruiser in front, alongside another sedan with a brown-skinned driver and a female passenger. After letting a car driven by a white man go ahead, the police officer made eye contact with me and motioned me over.
“Where are you from?” he asked, his demeanor intimidating, hands resting on my open window. “I’m from Manhattan,” I replied, trying to sound composed. I mentioned that I was the host of a show on CNBC and offered to show my ID. He nodded, took my ID without a word, and after a moment, returned it to me and waved me on.
I drove away feeling shaken and furious, acutely aware that I had been caught up in an unjust sweep. Was it legal? I wasn’t sure. Did I care about those left behind? Absolutely. But the experience would have been less painful had my colleagues chosen to believe me.
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In summary, we must strive to foster a culture of belief and support for women’s narratives. Dismissing their experiences only perpetuates a cycle of disbelief that can be damaging and isolating.