Why I Left My Career in Media and Advertising
The Reckoning and the Rebuild
There are moments in life when the illusion breaks. When the lights dim and the show ends, you are left staring at the world as it is, not as you hoped it would be. For me, that moment came quietly, as it often does, in the form of exhaustion. Not the kind that sleep can fix, but the kind that weighs down your spirit. It came after years of chasing meaning through media, writing, campaigns, and causes. It came after being useful, but never essential. Seen, but not valued. It came after realizing I had spent a decade learning how to amplify other people’s voices while losing the sound of my own.
I began my career in journalism with righteous ambition. I was a senior staff writer at The Ticker, the student newspaper at Baruch College, where I earned my degree in Journalism and Creative Writing. I covered stories that mattered. My first front-page piece exposed how CUNY adjunct professors were being denied basic benefits. It was a labor story. About fairness. About power. Even then, I was trying to protect people.
However, the world of journalism, like many other industries, was already undergoing a shift. The business model no longer favored truth. It favored algorithms. Popularity became currency. And truth became a luxury you couldn’t afford unless you had the privilege to work for free. I didn’t.
I’m a first-generation college graduate. I didn’t have the option to wait years for a salaried byline. So I pivoted into media production. I wrote features for ComicsVerse about comic book shows like The Flash and Supergirl, interned with Half Yard Productions, and even contributed a day of transcription work to the Netflix documentary The Death and Life of Marsha P. Johnson. But passion doesn’t pay rent. And so I drifted. Retail. Freelance. Interning. Survival.
Eventually, I made a home in advertising. At least there, I could work on campaigns that felt culturally relevant. I managed media planning and digital investment for brands like Audible, Sanofi, and King’s Candy Crush. I help build compliance-sensitive ad campaigns that interface with regulated industries. I built dashboards, mapped audiences, and shepherded budgets that topped $10 million. But even at the height of performance, I never felt like I was the talent. I was an executor, not a decision-maker. A runner on the track, not a builder of the stadium.
I sought meaning again through nonprofit work. At ExpandED Schools, I developed compliant email campaigns to support afterschool education. At HCM Strategists, I directed communications for federally funded DEIA initiatives in the STEM field. I co-designed policy-aligned onboarding systems, managed editorial pipelines, and helped organize the NSF INCLUDES 2024 Topical Conference on accessibility in STEM. But even there, where equity was supposed to be the goal, I often felt peripheral. An errand boy with a résumé.
After I was laid off in January, I didn’t panic. I reflected. I asked what I needed to feel whole in my work. And what I needed was power, not over people, but over purpose. I wanted to be in a field where my ethics were not a liability. Where protecting people was the point, not the exception. I wanted to matter.
That’s when I began my pivot into AI, public policy, and the future of tech.
At first, it was instinct. Then, study. I completed the Google Cybersecurity Certificate, which provided hands-on practice in Python, Linux, SQL, SIEM tools, and intrusion detection systems. I studied frameworks like NIST, threat modeling, and the architecture of digital risk. But the deeper I went, the more I realized that what drew me wasn’t just the security tools. It was the question of who they serve, how they’re built, and why they’re needed in the first place.
That curiosity opened the door to something bigger. I began exploring Responsible AI, data privacy, and tech governance through a strategic lens. I’m now pursuing graduate-level education in AI management and policy. I’ve studied Human-Computer Interaction and Python through Georgia Tech, and I’m preparing for certifications that deepen my understanding of data ethics, privacy law, and algorithmic accountability. I aim to leverage my background in communications and compliance to shape the next wave of technology. Not just how it’s deployed, but how it’s governed.
I want to be part of the Black tech community. I aim to develop systems that benefit everyone, particularly those who have been historically excluded. I want to protect children, the elderly, people with cognitive disabilities, and those without media literacy from the hidden violence of bad design and unchecked algorithms. I want to slow down technology when it races past human dignity. I want to ensure that the next AI breakthrough doesn’t come at the cost of someone’s job, rights, or life.
This path allows me to combine my lived experience with a mission I can stand behind. Whether I end up shaping AI policy, contributing to regulatory frameworks, or supporting responsible design as a strategist, my North Star remains the same: equity, ethics, and empowerment.
And yes, I want to be paid well. I want to be a high earner. I want job security, not as a privilege, but as a baseline. I want to be part of a team where I’m not just producing deliverables, but influencing decisions. I don’t want to be a cog in the machine. I want to contribute to the design of the engine.
If I can leave behind a legacy, I want it to be one that my daughter can be proud of. A system, a policy, or a principle that outlives me. I want my work to matter, even if no one ever credits me for it.
And when I say I want to be “the talent,” what I mean is this. I want to be valued for my mind. I want to be consulted. I want to be supported. I want to be a builder of futures, not just a task handler. I want to walk into a room, virtual or real, and know that I’m not an afterthought. I am the strategy. I am ethical. I am the reason the system works.
That’s why I’m here. That’s why I’m learning. That’s why I’m making this transition.
Not just to secure data, but to secure dignity.
