Becoming the person I am today is a bit more entertaining than what can fit in a few paragraphs. Like any good story, there is typically more than one main character, and my story is no different. Usually, when I share my story, I leave out one critical piece of the puzzle, but today I want you to see the complete picture, and I'd be remised if I didn't acknowledge the true catalyst that changed the trajectory of my life. Her name is Terri Grey.
Before I share more about Terri, I want to warn you that how she entered my life wasn't the prettiest, but I can assure you this is a story of triumph with a happy ending. Since my life has been something like a movie or sometimes a horror story, there is no way I could tell it without referencing the soundtrack to my life. Music is like food to the soul, and during tough times, there are powerful messages in melodies that have stuck with me. Many of these songs transcend generations, but if you aren't familiar with them, your homework is to find and listen to them because they may also be great additionals for you.
I grew up in Jennings, Missouri, in a community where everyone knew everyone. I was always known as the smart kid, and I even proved it by winning a bike for having the highest math and science score on the MAP test in the entire district. I was in elementary school, and at that time, I didn't even know how to ride a bike, but after winning it, I proudly admired my shiny purple huffy propped on its kickstand every day. I was smart, but I just thought I was supposed to be, and I had no clue what I could do in the real world with Math and Science.
As I got older, I started to feel embarrassed about being the smart kid, and I felt isolated when I had to leave my friends to go to my gifted programs and classes. At some point, I began acting out to avoid all the special treatment and just wanted to fit in with everyone else. But my teachers never let me lose sight of the books.
When I reached junior high school, my advisory teacher Mr. Sanford started talking to us about college and told me she thought I had the potential to be an engineer. But I had no clue what an engineer was or what that truly meant. She would bring me brochures about the university of Missouri Rolla and gave me faith the size of a mustard seed. That was the only time anyone had talked to me about college, and no one else did again until roughly my junior year of high school. Then, all of a sudden, there was this pressure to have it all figured out. People would ask what I wanted to do after high school, and I'd proudly say, I think I might go to Rolla to be an engineer, not believing it myself. Most people would respond with something like, "You gotta be brilliant to go to Rolla" are you sure, or do you have a plan B? and I'd walk away deflated because I didn't! I didn't even have a plan A figured out; it was just something that sounded good when said aloud.
As I got closer to my senior year, I started to fall further away from the idea of college, and I focused on being an average person who would find a job after high school like most people in my community did. At that point, I just wanted to have fun and hang out with my friends. One night we all got together to go to a house party, and when we arrived, we noticed a massive crowd surrounding one of the houses on the block. We went over to check it out, not knowing that a group of boys had been fighting earlier, and the crowd was forming because they were meeting back up to settle the score. Before we could fully join the group to ask questions, shots rang out, and everyone scattered like roaches.
After that, I blacked out, and when I woke up, I was in the ICU with a medical bracelet on that said Terri Grey. I later learned that victims of gun violence are given alias' in the hospital for their protection while being cared for. I spent a few weeks in the hospital, gaining my strength but the mental scares were the hardest to heal. When I returned home, I thought to myself, if this is what normal is, I want no parts of it. And if this were a movie, the song Jesus Walks by Kanye West would have played in the background. I felt betrayed by the community I loved and was desperate to find a way out. I was praying for God to show me the way because the devil was working overtime to break me down. That's when the idea of college became a reality.
While I recovered physically, I leaned on the books smarts I once despised. I became a regular in the school counselor's office, talking through my daily challenges and getting college prep resources. I took the ACT just enough times to get a score good enough for the University of Missouri Rolla, and I got accepted into the Minority Engineering Program. I was excited to pack my bags and leave Terri, and all my problems, in Jennings, but she never left my side.
Terri was anxious and trusted no one; she didn't want to make friends; she wanted to be invisible and focus on graduating. When I arrived in Rolla, it was a different world. I felt like a fish out of water. I didn't feel like I belonged and, on some occasions, was treated as such. In classes, I would work on group projects with white students, and when I'd see them later outside of class, they'd act like we were strangers. I thought it was what I wanted, but the culture shock was jarring and uncomfortable, but I couldn't quiet. Tupac's Keep your head up would be blasting at this part of the movie. I kept my head up and faith that things would get easier. Eventually, they did, but only after I started being the change I needed to see.
Being a recluse made me resent Terri, and I realized if I were going to survive, I needed to find my tribe. I stepped out of my comfort zone and found refuge in groups like the Association for Black Students, Black Man Think Tank, and the National Society of Black Engineers. It was the first step in restoring faith in my community. Letting my guard down allowed me to surround myself with bright, charismatic, diverse, resilient, and strong black leaders with struggles similar to mine, and we helped each other overcome them. They helped me through differential equations after bombing it the first time. We shopped for power suits in the Career Opportunity Center's donation closet to ensure we looked our best at career fairs. We packed our cars for long breaks and carpooled home together every other weekend. We had weekly dinners to avoid the terrible food in Thomas Jefferson Hall, sweat out our perms partying at the Alpha house on Saturdays (until we cut all the permed hair out of our heads to go natural), and on Sundays, we'd get up for church. And then we all graduated together. Now they are my family, and no matter where our careers take us, we have an unspoken bond that can never be broken. This is a lesson perfectly summed up by Beyonce and Jay-Z's song BOSS from the Carter Album, where Jay Z can be quoted saying, "Here we measure success by how many people are successful next to you. Because what's better than one black millionaire, a room full.
With every obstacle I overcame, I found the confidence to silence Terri, and my authentic voice grew louder and louder. Today I am unapologetic in my commitment to increasing the number of culturally responsible Black Engineers who excel academically, succeed professionally, and positively impact the community." And I firmly believe that the work has to start well before our future leaders enroll in a college or university. Never meeting or identifying with an engineer with skin, hair, or vernacular like mine almost stopped me from being an engineer for the next little girl to look up to. This is why I created The STEAM Queens.
When I started The STEAM Queens, I was in a fulfilling career doing everything I had ever dreamed of, but something was missing. My job had Diversity Tech programs, where we could volunteer to introduce STEM concepts to underrepresented communities. However, we'd end up in predominately white communities where diversity meant getting more girls in STEM, and Black girls were still an afterthought. Terri's voice started to surface again to convince me that it was okay and that I was playing by the corporate rules I had signed up for, so I didn't need to make waves. But Breenae knew what was at stake and couldn't sit back and let black girls continue being excluded.
I started writing and building out activity books that would introduce STEAM to girls in a fun way, taught by a black girl with curly ponytails and glasses almost bigger than her face. I wanted to make being an intelligent black girl who loved Science, Technology, Engineering, Arts, and Math cool, and I searched for months to hire a black female illustrator to bring her to life. I put my money where my mouth was and paid every dime to finance the project from my own pocket so that no one could tell me not to make her too black, to this or to that. I didn't care if I made any money back; I was more focused on creating the resources I wish I had back in elementary school with my shiny purple huffy.
I created the STEAM Queens So life-changing opportunities in STEM/STEAM are not a last resort out of desperation or something our children stumble into. Instead, it can be something they are competent in and comfortable with, so 2022 is the last year we see statistics where black people make up less than 5% of engineering professionals.
I launched the STEAM Queens in 2018 and by 2019, my company was inviting me to speak at their program events and welcoming me to help them to expand to a more inclusive territory. I knew I was walking in my purpose after speaking to an audience full of girls who had just finished their summer coding program, and I had a line of little black and brown girls waiting for me to take selfies and ask me more about my career. Their parents would always be standing right behind them, whispering thank you for being here, and it would give me the motivation to go home and find some way to do more!
These days I hardly ever hear from Terri because I am fearless. Don't get me wrong, I get scared, but I've learned to bet on myself and to quiet the imposter. I'm an engineer because I'm a problem solver who fixes real-world problems, not because I have a degree that says so.
As I continue to write my life story, I remind myself that securing the title of an engineer isn't the finish line; it's the start. As many of us are first generations in many respects, we are learning and growing as we go. A few gems I've collected that have been most valuable are:
1. Stop being grateful for being given an opportunity. Nothing you have received has been given, you've earned it, and you are as valuable, if not more, to a business as they are to you.
2. Don't wait until someone else believes in you to give yourself your flowers. You don't have to wait for a title, promotion, or acknowledgment to push yourself to greater heights.
3. I know it's cliche, but if there isn't room for you at someone else's table, build a bigger, better one, and I promise you they will be begging you for the blueprint.
