Professionalism, Opportunity, and Belonging

I’ve been thinking about the word professionalism—how it’s used, what it means, and, more importantly, who it serves.

Before I moved to Oregon to start my first job at Nike World Headquarters, I got the equal sign tattoo to remind myself to stay true. I was scared—scared that my tone of voice, my skin color, or just existing as a gay Latino with a slight femininity in my voice might work against me. Back then, the media’s version of professionalism rarely looked like me. It was always a taller, balder white man, dressed in clothes no one wanted to wear, saying the same things I said—but saying them differently.

And that’s where this reflection starts: When you say the same thing but say it differently, does it change the grit, the sacrifice, or the drive to create change?

The Link Between Professionalism and Opportunity

When I think about professionalism, I think about opportunity. They go hand in hand. If you don’t see that, take a moment and reflect. These two words are either best friends or enemies.

Professionalism isn’t just about qualifications. It’s about tone. It’s about whether you can “appear” to work the job in the same way someone else does—someone whose background and baggage are easier to hide.

My parents worked third shifts at gas stations. They were always on time—early, actually. Sick days? Rarely taken. Work wasn’t about passion or fulfillment. It was about survival, about making sure their kids had what they needed. And they did it right.

That’s professionalism—at least, that’s what it meant to them. To their bosses, it probably meant the same: they showed up, did their job, and left. But once they got the job.

But what about getting the job? Hard work alone didn’t get my parents better opportunities. It wasn’t their work ethic that held them back—it was the invisible gatekeeping of professionalism. They didn’t fit the mold of what employers thought a professional looked, sounded, or acted like. And so, they stayed in the same jobs, despite being assets to their companies.

Step into corporate spaces—this weird LinkedIn-driven ecosystem where we all know we’re screaming into an echo chamber. The feed is curated, the content designed for engagement, and every post feels a little too polished, a little too fake.

I respect the CEOs on here. But I also respect the CEOs who aren’t on here.

Because professionalism, in this world, isn’t just about showing up and doing the work. It’s about fitting the mold. It’s about whether your emails, decks, and tone make the right people comfortable. It’s about whether you move through these spaces without making them question the systems already in place.

Professionalism is a bit colonial. It reflects what a specific group of people in a specific country at a specific time have decided is correct. It lacks a global perspective. It doesn’t recognize the shift happening right now—the way new leaders are redefining what professionalism means in an era where even our government is reshaping its own standards.

Who Decides?

Professionalism has always been a moving target. A set of unspoken rules meant to maintain the status quo. A way to decide who gets a real shot and who doesn’t. And right now, we’re watching those outdated expectations play out as DEI efforts get rolled back.

We know this. We see it. And the younger generation? They’re rejecting it outright. They’ve seen traditional professionalism harm them. They’ve watched social media, hustle culture, and impossible standards drain people before they even get a foot in the door. They don’t want to play by rules designed to exclude them.

The workplace is changing. The workforce is shifting. And if leadership doesn’t adapt, they will be left behind.

The Reflection

I think about this a lot—not just as someone who’s navigated these spaces, but as someone who’s building. As someone who will hire, create opportunities, and shape what my version of professionalism looks like.

And here’s what I want to remember: I don’t want professionalism to be a weapon. I don’t want to recreate the cycles that have kept people out. Yes, I want talent. Pero, more than that? I want heart. I want community. I want people who will build something bigger than I can imagine—because I’m not them.

I think about Kinnect. About the future of work. About how younger generations are rejecting systems that have failed them. They’re disengaging from environments that once demanded they conform. And as I build, I don’t want to replicate what they’re leaving behind—I want to develop what they’re running toward.

So, if professionalism is standing in the way of opportunity, maybe it’s professionalism that needs to change. And maybe the people who’ve been told they don’t belong are the ones we need to listen to most.