Advocating for Myself, My Future, and the Future of Others
Name: Christa
Title: Principal Internal Communications and Events
Location: Riverwoods, IL
Pronouns: she/her
My personal brand
Efficiency and consistency; which seems stuffy and buzzwordy, but I am not joking about this being my brand (just ask my partner)! The combination promotes authenticity and self-care. I strive for efficiency and consistency in work and my personal life. I value my time, respect the time of others, and hope to be afforded the same consideration. My brand prioritizes the sharing of true and correct information, the first time, and encourages speaking up to be heard and getting a seat at the table. Being aware I have this tendency of high expectations means there is great power in the moments where I pause to consider the bigger picture, reflect on my emotions, or seize an opportunity to connect with someone on a deeper level than the matters at hand.
Owning who I am and my journey
As a lifelong member of the Deaf and Hard of Hearing Community, I have experienced extreme ups and downs when navigating the workplace, though mostly downs. Prior to starting my career at Discover, I attempted to keep my disability hidden and preferred to only tell a select few coworkers over the years – and only when I deemed it absolutely necessary to do so (i.e., usually when I found myself “getting in trouble”). The last thing I wanted was attention because most attention about my disability has not been positive. By keeping my disability hidden, I created a situation where not only did I have a job to do, but I always had a façade to maintain and that was like having a second job itself. For far too long, I found myself overworked and stressed out. I developed anxiety, and I just couldn’t understand why that was happening. I would also work very hard and often outperform my peers but still found myself getting in trouble and never advancing like those around me did. Managers would tell me I was disliked by my peers, considered rude, hard to communicate with, uninterested, not a team player, etc. One time when I was the recipient of rare public praise the manager also felt it necessary to overshadow my accomplishments by pointing out that I can be “a quirky individual.” I was always so deeply hurt when I received this type of feedback because I was overextending myself every day just to prove I belonged. By not disclosing my disability, my colleagues had no context for why I would walk past them when they call my name out in a crowd, be unable to participate in a conversation at a large conference table or ignore anyone who stood behind me at my desk and tried to start a conversation without physically engaging me. A lot of these struggles are the result of my own missteps but are also the product of the culture and environment—I was just trying to survive and that required reading the room.
I did eventually realize I’d need to start disclosing my disability, and while I didn’t have any immediate ramifications from doing so, several issues were still there. The ADA, while good and necessary, was/is treated by most employers as a legal/compliance issue and not as the barest minimum standard by which to empower your workforce and spread equity. When I had finally climbed the mountain of willingly self-disclosing my disability, I was not expecting the continued climb that followed or how I’d be required to prove to my employers that I wasn’t fabricating my need for accommodations as an attempt to obtain special treatment over my non-disabled colleagues, and I most certainly wasn’t expecting that I’d be giving others additional chances to make assessments on what I could and couldn’t do to further marginalize me still. By self-disclosing my disability status and utilizing ADA, I too often found myself treated as a problem that needs solving, an unexpected budget expenditure, an afterthought, and an overlooked under supported “legally untouchable” burden of my employer.
In 2019 I made a list of five checkbox requirements my dream job would have and in the fall of that year I was offered a job that checked four of the five boxes. I accepted, thinking it was good enough. While I was waiting to begin that position, I came across a posting for that role that would eventually bring me to Discover. Through my information gathering and interview process, I learned that this new opportunity checked ALL FIVE BOXES on my list. I was beyond delighted to be offered the position and accepted without hesitation. I am proud to say that Discover was the first workplace where I openly self-disclosed my disability from the very start, and that is largely due to the visible culture and values around inclusion that Discover has openly advanced.
The pandemic and social justice movements of 2020 shed light on disparities in our workplaces and communities. A recent emergence of DE&I programs as part of corporate culture have only begun to shift things in a direction that supports equal opportunity and access as a default. But before we get too far ahead of ourselves, I will boldly note that some of my career struggles are from very recent memory. We are doing great work here at Discover but there is more work to do. I feel like we are in the right space where progress can easily be made, and I look forward to advancing accessibility and equity to the best of my ability.
I am proud to be grounded in the present, able to consistently advocate for myself, and remain a highly motivated individual with great lust for life.
The rhythm of family
A favorite family memory of mine is tied to my family’s love of music. I was in a marching band all through college, and my other three siblings are also musically inclined. One year, a couple days before Christmas, my dad asked us all to go into his office with our various instruments. We obliged, and soon were given copies of piano sheet music of Christmas songs printed off the internet so we could play for Mom at our holiday dinner. There were no percussion arrangements, and definitely nothing transposed to the key of our respective instruments, but being the paramount music professionals we were, we figured out how to read the music and our dad, fancying himself the conductor, counted us off to begin practicing. With absolutely no rhythm (outside of his ability to flawlessly carpool karaoke various songs by Meatloaf, Jimmy Buffet, and Billy Joel), he counted out loud: “One… Two. THREE-GO!” and we all erupted in laughter. Dad tried again: “One… Twooooo… Threeee – GO!” with similar effect and now, growing frustration. Before dad could make a third attempt, I chose to begin loudly and soulfully playing Battle Hymn of the Republic, because it was my favorite song to play, and also because it seemed an appropriate way to memorialize the situation at hand. Great laughter ensued from the group, my dad included. This is just one musical memory I have with my family, part of our own tradition of living life through song.
Confidence in myself and my future
It’s hard to specifically define the best decision I ever made; perhaps I haven’t made it yet—which is comforting and terrifying all at the same time. By now I’ve learned that each decision is a point in time, and I did what I felt I needed to do at the time. Hindsight is a luxury we don’t have “in the moment” and remembering that when I look back on things makes it easier to accept what didn’t necessarily turn out for the best. I believe it is the sum of all my decisions, good and bad, that has gotten me to a place where I am confident in my ability to make decisions for myself, my family and friends, my employer, and my clients, and in absence of expected or intended results, remain confident in my ability to overcome the situation, and survive it. I guess you could say the best decision I have ever made is to trust that things do eventually work out.
