Under Siege: Black Women Leaders and the Performative Reckoning

This week, I had conversations with 3 Black women, each leading in different industries: the academy, nonprofit, and corporate. Every story echoed the same painful pattern: our leadership was treated as a performance, our hiring a mirage, and the outcome a betrayal. From the academy to nonprofit organizations, Black women leaders are under siege. We weren’t hired for our brilliance or vision; we were hired to check a box. What followed has been nothing short of terroristic and traumatic.

Many of us were brought into leadership roles right before or shortly after the so-called racial reckoning that followed George Floyd’s public murder. It was a time when organizations rushed to publish flimsy statements condemning anti-Black racism while avoiding any substantive self-reflection. Hiring Black women became a tool for organizations to deflect criticism and shield themselves from accountability. We were brought in to signal change without being given the tools, resources, or authority to implement it. What we are now enduring isn’t accidental—it’s intentional.

A Reckoning for Whom?

Let’s start with the reckoning itself. For many organizations, it wasn’t about grappling with their own complicity in systemic oppression—it was about survival. Statements of solidarity were a quick fix, designed to quiet public outrage. Hiring Black women leaders became part of this PR strategy. We were positioned as proof of progress, like shiny trophies to be displayed when the time was right.

But these organizations never intended to change. They didn’t reallocate resources, interrogate their own cultures, or examine their systemic inequities. Instead, they invited us to the table, laid out the silverware, and yanked the chair away just as we sat down—watching as we hit the ground. They asked us to lead without support, to fix what they broke, and then blamed us when their systems resisted repair.

The Glass Cliff Is Sharper Now

The glass cliff is a familiar concept for Black women leaders, but today, it feels steeper and sharper, its jagged edges designed to cut us on the way down. We’re often brought in to clean up messes—financial crises, toxic cultures, broken systems—only to be pushed off the edge when things don’t improve overnight.

We are hired to lead during impossible moments, only to find the very systems that hired us actively working against us. Boards gut our authority. Staff stonewall our efforts. Donors slam their wallets shut. When we advocate for equity, we’re dismissed as “unrealistic.” When we push for accountability, we’re labeled “aggressive” or “divisive.” The same organizations that celebrated our appointments now weaponize our presence to protect the status quo.

When Leadership Becomes a Target

I know this all too well. During my tenure at OSF, my very presence in Ashland, Oregon—a town that prides itself on its so-called progressiveness—became a point of contention. My neighbors glared at me from behind curtains, muttering their hostility just loudly enough for it to carry. It wasn’t subtle. It was the kind of calculated hatred that seeps into your bones, making you hyper-aware of every step you take.

It escalated. My life was threatened—explicitly, unapologetically. I wasn’t just a leader; I was a disruption, a threat to the carefully curated facade of this town. But when I spoke up, when I named the harm and told the truth about what I was facing, the narrative shifted. Those same neighbors accused me of “scaring people away” from Ashland. My survival was framed as a PR issue. My honesty was seen as an attack.

So, what do you do when your body is seen as an invasion, and your experience is seen as an attack? How do you lead when your presence alone is treated as a threat? These are the questions Black women leaders are forced to navigate daily. The answer isn’t simple, but what is clear is that the systems that hire us were never designed to support us—they were designed to swallow us whole.

The Terror of the Role

Let’s be real: What Black women leaders are enduring right now is terror. It’s the microaggressions that pile up until you can’t breathe. It’s the coded language that undermines your credibility. It’s the gaslighting that leaves you questioning your own reality. It’s the deliberate sabotage, the isolation, the exhaustion of trying to lead while simultaneously defending your right to exist in the role.

One woman told me her board accused her of “dividing the organization” when she pushed for pay equity. Another was ousted after her vision for inclusion disrupted long-standing donor relationships. A third described being publicly undermined by her executive team, who framed her calls for accountability as personal attacks. These aren’t just painful anecdotes—they’re deliberate tactics meant to erode our confidence, fracture our leadership, and force us out.

Why This Keeps Happening

The truth is, organizations hire Black women for the optics, not the transformation. Our presence forces institutions to confront their exclusionary practices, and for many, that confrontation feels like an attack. Their response? Retaliation. The backlash is personal and systemic, compounded by a political climate that vilifies “woke” culture and frames equity as a threat.

The rhetoric of “go woke, go broke” isn’t just something you hear on the news—it’s alive in boardrooms, staff meetings, and donor conversations. Black women leaders have become the scapegoats for institutions unwilling to evolve. The result is an all-out assault on our leadership, our credibility, and our humanity.

The Ladder Leadership Approach: Rising Above the Siege

The Ladder Leadership Approach was built for moments like these. It’s not about surviving—it’s about building systems that outlast the siege. For Black women leaders, it’s a lifeline and a roadmap for collective transformation.

1. Call It What It Is

Let’s stop sugarcoating it: This is a systemic attempt to silence Black women leaders. Naming the harm isn’t just cathartic—it’s revolutionary.

2. Build Networks of Care

We can’t do this alone. Care is at the core of the Ladder Leadership Approach. We need spaces to heal, reflect, and strategize. Our survival depends on the strength of our community.

3. Hold Institutions Accountable

If organizations want us to lead, they need to fund us, support us, and protect us. That means equitable budgets, real authority, and accountability at every level.

4. Create Legacy Systems

Our leadership isn’t just for us—it’s for the future. The Ladder Leadership Approach prioritizes legacy-building, mentoring the next generation, and embedding equity into the DNA of our institutions.

Conclusion: A Call to Resistance

Black women leaders aren’t just under siege—we’re underutilized. Our capacity for systemic transformation is unmatched, but instead of supporting us, institutions weaponize our power against us. What we’re experiencing is not failure—it’s resistance to our success.

Leadership was never meant to be comfortable. It was meant to transform. The Ladder Leadership Approach reminds us that transformation isn’t an individual act—it’s a collective revolution. Together, we can rise higher. Together, we can reshape systems. Together, we can lead in ways that make the world take notice.

Let’s rise higher. Let’s transform together. Because Black women don’t just lead—we revolutionize.

Women of color, especially leaders, I’d love to hear your thoughts!