The day I was named one of SF Business Times most Influential Women of 2025 I almost died. I had two in person events prior to the May 8th awards ceremony with active heart and lungs inflammation. I looked as cute as I could for feeling like shit. I made it to the downtown SF hotel early for the evening awards ceremony, elated that I found parking across the street.

My cane kept me upright as my heart and lungs worked harder as I settled at the hotel catching up to emails I traded for rest. Right before the honoree cocktail hour I wanted to put my jacket in my car easily accessible across the street but my car was towed. I didn't have the emotional or physical capacity to read the signs. The signs I've been reading for 25 years living in the Bay Area. I hopped in the cab out front. Paid $762 to get my car back with a first-time tow discount, ruining my tight budget for the month. I made it back for the last 15 minutes of what should have been an hour of me networking with other honored women.

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I seated myself at my table, in the back with other honorees with no plus one, alone, as no one was available to join me. I looked at the stage. Not ADA accessible. I calculated the math I would have to do to use a cane to go upstairs with one banister and somehow carry a glass award down the same stairs on the opposite side. I didn't feel influential.

When the time came for giving out the awards we were instructed to line up by last name. I didn't have the mental or physical capacity to see who was a “B” or “D” so I stood to the side. I didn't have the same excitement as the other women as I had to focus on making it up across and down this non-ADA accessible stage.

We were told to answer one of three questions and I chose one thing you're most proud of. My name was called. The room fell quiet as I had to take more time to get on the stage. I called the publication in saying “it's not hard to make a stage accessible; disabled people get awards too” (that's what influential women do right?). “I'm most proud of me, a Black disabled woman in a white world celebrating 10 years of a business in a country that doesn't want me to be successful.”

I forgot to record it because I didn’t feel well, so something like that.

The husband (whom I’ve known professionally for years) of one of the 84 women honored that night was at the other side of the stage. He offered assistance. Encouraged me to take my “class of 2025 photo” and walked me all the way back to my seat. I had to walk around the perimeter of the tables. You know that little wiggle you do between banquet tables; I can't do that with a cane as it's not safe. A Black woman in a caped fuchsia outfit said “good for you.” I didn't know if what I said made sense as it was all a flash. When I got back to my table seated between two other honorees neither of them said anything to me. So I assumed what I said probably wasn't great. I sat there and clapped for the women to follow to the end of the awards ceremony.

As I walked out to the dessert bar a white woman stopped me. She said "I was honored last year and I had almost a full cast on my leg and I had to slide my body onto the stage. It took me a while to get up there because I couldn't go up the steps. Now, I know I'm not disabled but I was temporarily disabled and you would think they would have learned from that last year. Thank you for saying what you said.”

Someone else heard me.

Now if you know anything about me I wholeheartedly believe in celebrating the little wins. So even though I didn't feel good mentally and physically I knew I deserved a little mini dessert from the bar. As I was plotting what would cause less damage to my body I ran into a college friend. We were undergrad besties and I hadn't seen her for years. She asked if I heard her scream my name. I didn't but I felt warmer knowing that someone was cheering for me. A muslim woman gave me dessert suggestions as she commented on how she heard me speak at a women in sports conference. She made me feel like I mattered that night where I felt so alone.

Funny thing is that I don't feel influential. Today as I write this, I feel like I am fighting everyday to survive in America as a business owner and a human being. I'm appreciative of the award but my influence should not be the reason why I feel othered. Why I felt alone that night. Why I feel alone doing this work. As a Black disabled woman my existence has lost me business. My advocacy for oppressed people has lost me business. My influence has lost me business. It's sickening when you think about it.

I felt sick. Later that night the start of toxicity from the very medication to stop my heart/lungs inflammation almost killed me. I diagnosed myself with toxicity, stopped taking the medication and my cardiologist confirmed it within 45 minutes on a Saturday. Two days later routine labs for my rare arthritis would show my liver was under attack. I'm still recovering. I don't feel great. I don't feel influential, I feel like a failure. It can't be that my success was only tied to the murder of George Floyd, May 25, 2020?

How am I influential when I've lost so much? I laid off my staff last year. I lost a seven-figure contract from a company that chose to go the path of Donald. Like so many folks who had any work or specialty in the DEI space, as an employee, consultant or expert, we no longer matter. DEI is not the only thing I do but it's the only thing people see me as. I do white people shit too. But none of that matters when you're a triple threat; a woman, a Black person, and disabled. Those three things are the reasons why I became influential.

And now they're the reason why I'm failing.

So, anyway I'm one of San Francisco Business Times Most Influential Women of 2025. My heart and lungs are improving. My liver is healing. I keep pivoting. I keep contorting myself into a non-threatening Black person to meet the demands of comfort white people want to have right now. It's exhausting. Just like the years following George Floyd's murder. I'm tired. I keep moving forward. I keep being amazing.

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