Capítulo 1
Unveiling the Unseen: A Journey Through Identity and Belonging
In a pivotal moment at the Fifth Avenue Apple Store opening in New York, Denise Young Smith experienced what it truly means to be seen. As the only Black woman executive contributing to Apple's revolutionary retail vision, her unique perspective helped shape what would become retail history. When comedian Dave Chappelle visited that night and acknowledged her with a simple "I see you, sis," it crystallized a powerful truth about recognition and belonging that would define her career. This moment of authentic connection stands in stark contrast to her 2014 feature in Fortune magazine, where despite eighteen years at Apple-thirteen in leadership roles-she was bizarrely characterized as "Apple's New Voice," erasing her extensive contributions to establishing over 425 Apple Stores worldwide. Young's journey from Colorado Springs to Apple's executive suite offers profound insights into what it means to truly see others and be seen yourself in environments where difference is often overlooked or misunderstood. Her story has become required reading for anyone seeking to understand how organizations can create cultures where everyone can thrive, with celebrities from tech and entertainment circles citing her work as transformative in understanding workplace belonging.
Capítulo 2
The Power of Being Truly Seen
Growing up in Colorado Springs, I developed strong observation skills by listening to adults. I absorbed their stories, watching body language and tone, particularly in social settings. Unlike many Black children raised to be "barely seen and not heard" (a protective cultural remnant from post-enslavement), my parents allowed me to develop my own viewpoints and included me in adult conversations. These early experiences shaped my ability to see others deeply.
At Miss June's Dance Academy, I first encountered a pattern that would follow me throughout life: I was the only Black child among my peers. This difference manifested physically-my curvier body contrasted with the angular ballet standard, my naturally proud head carriage was criticized for being "too high." By age eleven, I became serious about dance but held myself back, internalizing subtle messages that "different" meant "not as good."
Everything changed when my instructors cast me as the Autumn Fairy in Prokofiev's Cinderella-a solo role I never imagined could be mine. My family helped me prepare, dyeing tights in tea and coloring toe shoes to match my skin tone-a burden Black dancers like Misty Copeland still face today. That night at the Colorado Springs Fine Arts Center, I was truly seen. My teachers had gone against existing practices, enhancing their program while transforming a young Black girl's self-perception.
We all need moments of being truly seen throughout our lives. My parents, Leon and Margaret Young, were my first and most important "seers," encouraging me to listen, learn, connect, and develop my voice. Other early seers included Ms. Zarle Sims, my high school literature teacher, who introduced me to the Harlem Renaissance writers, and J. James Brown, who saw leadership potential in me at my first professional job. These moments of being seen programmed my personal GPS system; they solidified my being. Recognizing this power, I now intentionally strive to see others, knowing that seeing and valuing sows thriving.
Capítulo 3
Where Belonging Takes Root
At Grambling State University, I encountered the school's powerful motto: "Where Everybody Is Somebody." For the first time, I felt seen for my beauty as a Black woman, with young men calling us "queens" with genuine reverence. The student body assembled from diverse backgrounds-some arriving by plane with trunks of nice clothes, others dropped off with belongings in paper sacks.
HBCUs understood that each student needed individualized support to achieve greatness. Professor Miss Lee Grant required me to score 4% higher on tests while allowing others to retake exams when necessary-recognizing that equity means treating people differently to help everyone succeed. This philosophy could transform corporate America.
Harvard scholar J. Richard Hackman found successful teams need "enabling conditions" to thrive, and Google research showed psychological safety creates the best teamwork. HBCUs have mastered this approach, producing 40% of Black engineers, 50% of Black lawyers, and 80% of Black judges-yet corporate America still struggles with the concept of equity, often confusing it with reverse racism.
Growing up, belonging to a Black church meant unconditional acceptance and being truly seen. Trinity Missionary Baptist Church was an extension of my life and education, offering comfort, community, and belonging. Music especially captivated me-the connectivity of songs, voices rising and falling together, how a single chord could evoke shared feelings and history.
When Mr. John Bowen became our new choir director, he pulled me aside after rehearsal and asked why I was "shout-singing," telling me I was working too hard trying to be heard. "You have a beautiful voice," he told me quietly, "but you're going to ruin it with all that screeching. Sing in your voice, and don't stop singing until you believe your voice is as beautiful as I do." His acknowledgment changed my life, offering external validation I didn't yet have for myself. Finding one's voice means understanding what you're saying, why you're saying it, the impact it has, and finding courage to use it.
Capítulo 4
Navigating Professional Landscapes as "The Only"
I've had only one Black boss in my entire professional career. This reality stands in stark contrast to the experience of many in the dominant culture who have always worked for people who look like them. For Black and brown people, it's still not the norm to work for someone who shares our appearance or cultural touchpoints-especially in STEM fields, where representation at leadership levels remains startlingly low. Recent studies show that less than 4% of executive positions in tech companies are held by Black professionals, creating an environment where being "the only one" is a common experience.
After graduating from Grambling, I was hired at a nonprofit consortium but struggled in my fundraising role. My boss, a tall blonde white woman, publicly humiliated me in staff meetings, critiquing everything from my presentation style to my approach to donor relations. This experience highlighted how cultural disconnects can manifest in professional settings, often leading to misinterpretations and unfair assessments. Everything changed when J. James Brown, a reserved Black man who worked as an executive program director, offered me a position in his department. J became my mentor, teaching me invaluable lessons about corporate navigation: how to read boardroom dynamics, listen effectively without appearing passive, identify key decision-makers in complex organizational structures, and maintain confidentiality while building trust networks. Witnessing a Black man exert such influence while sharing knowledge freely with me was joyful and transformative, offering a rare glimpse of what representation in leadership could mean.
When I left to work for Apple in 1996, J tearfully told me, "I knew from the beginning you were going to be great. I saw it." His words carried the weight of shared understanding and genuine recognition. I feared I might never again have a boss as kind, brilliant, and who saw me through a shared cultural lens-a fear that proved true. Most subsequent bosses responded best to parts of me most like them, looking for conformity rather than seeing my unique assets. They often praised my technical skills while seeming uncomfortable with my direct communication style or cultural references, creating an unspoken pressure to code-switch and conform.
In corporate settings, feeling and emotion are often dismissed as weaknesses, particularly for professionals of color who face additional scrutiny. This suppression creates environments of disconnection, minimal trust, and diminished respect. Many organizations pride themselves on being "purely rational," but this approach ignores the fundamental human elements that drive innovation and collaboration. We resist feelings because they're hard, uncertain, and messy-uncontrollable in a world we believe must be controlled. Yet actively seeing others around us, acknowledging their full humanity and lived experiences, is not just about inclusion - it's a pathway to better performance, innovation, and organizational success. This requires moving beyond mere tolerance to genuine appreciation of different perspectives and working styles, creating spaces where all employees can bring their authentic selves to work.
Capítulo 5
Finding My Voice in Silicon Valley
My Apple journey began in Fountain, Colorado, when I heard about Apple's new presence nearby. Despite knowing little about the company beyond its "cool" reputation and iconic rainbow logo, I was hired as a college and community recruiting specialist. The position aligned perfectly with my background in education and human resources, though I had no tech industry experience. When Apple divested the Colorado site in 1997, I unexpectedly received a call from Cupertino offering me a role in employee relations - a pivotal moment that would reshape my career trajectory.
After settling in Northern California in 1996, I was immediately welcomed by Black colleagues connected to a vibrant network of African American professionals in the area. The newly forming employee resource groups provided reliable connection and support systems that proved invaluable. A "secret Black bat signal" - typically informal emails and phone calls - brought together Black professionals from various tech companies including Oracle, HP, and Sun Microsystems. These gatherings felt like HBCU reunions-places to belong where we valued what each person offered, sharing stories, strategies, and solidarity in an industry where we were often the only ones in our respective rooms.
Despite being inside major firms, many people of color remained unseen and systematically blocked from venture capital funding. While Silicon Valley claimed to be a meritocracy, the reality was starkly different. One of Black Valley's best practices was celebrating each other's achievements - from promotions to startup launches to speaking engagements. If only the financial rewards had followed, we'd have forged a formidable tech presence. Instead, less than 1% of VC funding went to Black founders, despite numerous qualified entrepreneurs.
When I moved to Cupertino, I could name all the top female Black leaders-it was a devastatingly short list. By 2021, Apple employed just 177 Black women out of 30,745 professional roles-less than 1 percent. These numbers hadn't significantly improved in decades. Companies addressed these small numbers as statistics rather than delving into our actual experiences - the isolation, the extra scrutiny, the burden of representation. We were turned into one-dimensional integers rather than seen as actual people, families, and communities striving to contribute our talents and perspectives.
Throughout my time in tech leadership, I witnessed chronic handwringing over lack of diversity without recognizing the fundamental issue: employees of color were not statistics to be managed but voices to be heard. In countless diversity meetings, we were treated as numbers to be charted and analyzed rather than people with valuable thoughts and experiences worth hearing. The tech industry's approach to diversity remained superficial - focused on recruitment numbers while ignoring retention, advancement, and genuine inclusion. This numbers-first mentality masked the real human stories of struggle, perseverance, and achievement that needed to be acknowledged and learned from.
Capítulo 6
Building Apple's Revolutionary Retail Culture
After just a year in Employee Relations, I was tapped by HR SVP Dan Walker to help with "a little project"-which turned out to be building the operational and cultural infrastructure for the soon-to-be-revealed Apple Stores. When Walker later asked me to take on the permanent role leading the people aspects of the stores, I initially declined, feeling intimidated by my lack of retail experience.
When I hesitated, Dan Walker responded with wisdom: "But you know people and you know culture, and you know it better than anyone else that we've met or that we know inside of the company, period, bar none."
From the beginning, Ron Johnson, the first executive hired to lead Apple Stores, wanted to build something that led with people. Walker recognized that I viewed issues through the same human lens as Ron-we were a matched business pairing fueled by the same belief in prioritizing people.
In building Apple Store teams, we aimed to represent the communities they served, creating some diversity in markets like New York, Atlanta, and Southern California. This wasn't just a "low wage" story as media portrayed, but a potential pipeline for developing talent.
Store leaders innovated ways to offer staff "experiences" that made them attractive within various markets. Working at an Apple Store became a badge of honor, with departing employees well-trained for new opportunities and "clapped out" in celebration. The stores boasted some of retail's lowest attrition rates, with employees frequently stating, "I feel like I belong here" and recommending the workplace to friends and family.
At Apple Stores, we recognized that creating enriched customer engagement required employees who felt fully realized in their roles. We couldn't expect thousands of employees to authentically touch millions of customers if they themselves felt treated casually or cheaply.
We listened to employees' needs-implementing tuition assistance, full health benefits for part-timers, and growth opportunities. We learned that our most reliable staff for enriching customer experiences were those who loved learning, thinking and inspiring-traits requiring an environment where they could thrive.
Capítulo 7
Cultural Intelligence in Action
During a global meeting in China, our team encountered a critical challenge while attempting to translate the concept of "performance management" across different cultural contexts. The seemingly straightforward business term revealed itself to be a complex web of cultural interpretations and historical baggage. When I noticed David, the sole Black man in the room, becoming increasingly withdrawn from the discussion, I recognized the telltale signs of cultural disconnect and intentionally created space for his voice.
He responded with remarkable candor: "Performance management to a Black person is really code for 'We are trying to fire you, but we don't really have a good reason.'" His words carried the weight of generations of workplace discrimination and systemic barriers. While some participants initially dismissed his perspective as overly sensitive, the Japanese team members offered their own culturally specific interpretation - viewing performance management through the lens of deep personal shame and loss of face in their society. I validated David's experience, explaining how his reaction reflected a documented pattern in American corporate environments where performance management systems have historically been used as tools of racial discrimination.
The conversation, though uncomfortable, proved transformative. Despite initial resistance from some quarters, David's perspective catalyzed a deeper examination of our terminology. This led us to develop new, more culturally inclusive language for our global process, demonstrating how diversity in the room can lead to better, more nuanced solutions. My role as cultural interpreter became crucial in bridging these different worldviews, helping participants understand that each perspective offered valuable insight into how our processes might be perceived and experienced differently across cultures.
Another illustrative example emerged during a retail initiative when an operations team proposed bright orange t-shirts for a store campaign. The Black and brown team members immediately raised concerns, explaining that the color carried strong associations with prison uniforms and institutional discrimination in their communities. The swift switch to teal blue wasn't just about color preference - it reflected an organization's ability to recognize and respond to cultural sensitivities without requiring extensive justification or debate.
Cultural intelligence manifests differently across situations - sometimes enabling quick, decisive actions like the t-shirt color change, other times requiring years of patient dialogue and systematic change. The key lesson remains consistent: having multiple dimensions of humanity represented in decision-making spaces is non-negotiable, even when it makes processes more complex and conversations more challenging. This complexity is not a burden but an asset that leads to more inclusive and effective outcomes.
In my years at Apple, I frequently found myself translating the company's unique culture for newcomers, particularly those from different cultural backgrounds or those unfamiliar with Silicon Valley's distinct ethos. While Apple University offered formal courses like "What Makes Apple, Apple" to communicate cultural expectations, many employees, especially those in satellite offices or retail locations, lacked access to these resources. This created an invisible barrier that made it harder for them to fully participate in and contribute to the company's culture, highlighting the ongoing need for cultural translation and bridge-building at all levels of the organization.
Capítulo 8
The Misunderstood Power of Empathy
Empathy isn't optional but essential for any organization seeking to build a human-focused culture. It's a must-have skill across all industries that counterintuitively creates more space and time by collecting valuable perspective that can be deployed when needed. A manager who truly sees her team is better positioned to address human issues when they arise.
Empathy is often mistakenly seen as "being nice" rather than a strategic advantage. This misperception of empathy as weakness rather than strength persists in business. As Michael Ventura writes in Applied Empathy, it's a "squishy word...confused with sympathy and mistaken for being nice." Yet even medical professionals are shifting from detached concern to empathy, as psychiatrist Jodi Halpern notes that patients don't trust aloof doctors, and studies prove empathy's healing benefits.
Business leaders resist empathy for three main reasons: fear of appearing merely "nice," confusion with sympathy, and concern it signals agreement with positions they don't support. This resistance prevents them from gaining the strategic advantages empathy provides.
Leaders often fail to recognize the experience gap for those without access to networks and mentorship. When a young Hispanic employee asked Tim Cook about mentoring programs, Tim's honest response that he "learned from everybody" missed the deeper need behind the question-this employee had the courage to ask because he genuinely needed guidance that wasn't available to him.
Creating human-centered systems isn't magical-it's professional, intentional work. When colleagues complimented my team's ability to make things "come together like magic," I clarified that our design brief "starts with how to care and ends with how to thrive."
The chain reaction of seeing people with empathy, insight and intelligence happened because we deliberately sought out emotional intelligence traits, prioritized empathy, and required compassion in leaders. This wasn't "nice" work-it was serious, demanding, and ultimately the most important work of our lives.
Capítulo 9
The Burden of Translation
The uncomfortable truth remains that people of color are still quietly "auditioning" for roles they've already been hired for, constantly needing to prove they deserve their positions. They face more frequent, longer, and more challenging scrutiny than white colleagues. This subconscious hazing creates a longer journey to belonging, if it's ever reached at all. I can't name a single BIPOC person who hasn't experienced this.
Code-switching extends beyond speech to appearance, particularly hair for Black women. Our hair is existential, deeply cultural, and expressive of our entire life narratives. It is sacred art-studied from infancy, cultivated throughout life, and planned even for final burial wishes. The emotional attachment Black women have to hair will never be fully understood by others.
The necessity of the CROWN Act (Create a Respectful and Open World for Natural Hair)-now adopted in twenty states and thirty cities-demonstrates how fraught this issue became. Needing legal protection for our right to simply be is beyond comprehension, yet we continue to express ourselves proudly and regally despite this battle.
Occasionally, I risked vulnerability by explaining my code-switching experience to coworkers-balancing the desire to be seen, speaking multiple work languages, deflecting microaggressions Matrix-like, advocating for others, while still being a contributing professional.
The othered are accustomed to this centering. We have expertise succeeding from subterranean starting points, required to know everything about the dominant culture while they remain uninformed about us. Each microaggression feels like a toxic dart-depleting strength while the shooter stands oblivious to the harm done.
When people must expend energy on translation, allaying fear, and fighting isolation, how is this human loss accounted for? I imagine a world where pointing out offensive comments brings understanding rather than defensiveness.
Capítulo 10
The Future of Seeing and Being Seen
As a storyteller, I advocate gathering our life stories-the memories, people, and moments that shaped us-and reflecting on them. This reflection reveals how we impact others and illuminates the mysteries about ourselves. Most of us are smart enough to learn from this and decide what to carry forward.
What if, as Steve Jobs suggested about "getting in a little over their heads," we dig deeper into seeing others? Could today's version mean unlearning what's untenable or unjust? Could relearning mean no longer responding with unfounded fear about others? These imbalanced times might require more connection versus isolation, more alignment than polarization. When we are seen, light is cast onto something formerly dimmed or forgotten. At scale, an individual pause to see can translate into an entire movement to include.
Fortune 500 companies, with their $37 trillion in market value and 29 million employees, could shift the world's course-but only if they shift their consciousness alongside their business direction. Modern commerce contains the attributes for both social engineering and economic transformation, though business leaders often claim these cannot coexist.
The need to belong is part of the human genome. Being seen is the kinetic force behind human connection, endorsing our existence to others and ourselves. It's both physiological and emotional, releasing oxytocin when we feel accepted, with the power to change life's direction.
For those in marginalized groups-whether by race, gender, identity, ability, appearance, or more-the opposite of being seen is something we've experienced abundantly: from brutal oppression to being overlooked, brushed aside, unheard, or dismissed. This chips away at our ability to connect with others in work and life.
We live in an era of casual erasure through banned books and biased AI, where history is being rewritten rather than revisited. My journey, seen by millions, should not be erased. My story demonstrates why seeing others matters deeply and why representation is profound. We all can impact the culture around us without waiting for authority figures to act.
We have the power to shift consciousness, culture, and behavior, especially in moments when we feel powerless. We can create our own ecosystems of inclusivity and connection without waiting for systems to right themselves. We don't need diversity training to learn about others' lives-small children do it naturally. We only need to care. Sight will follow.
