On Turning 24 and Accepting My Dream Job

Thoughts, reflections and wistful pride of success served on a silver platter.

My 24th birthday was on Friday, June 5th. This was the same day I accepted my dream job.

I’m humbled, grateful and excited. Per usual, I had a “How-To” Medium article teed up on the topic.

But somewhere in between international protests, eating up DiAngelo’s White Fragility and juxtaposed conversations with my parents on salary negotiation advice for this particular role— I’d be remiss to write another career-related post, without addressing my privilege (the white, wealthy, able-bodied kind) and how it’s allowed me to get here.

The very name of the neighborhood in which I was raised screams homogeneity: Scripps Ranch (yes, for real).

My childhood friends and I were never concerned with race, privilege or socio-economic status. We all looked the same and grew up in relatively similar households. We were never concerned with anything other than getting into the college of our choice.

We never knew what a luxury that was.

Privilege: a right or immunity granted as a peculiar benefit, advantage, or favor.