Networking Without Belonging

Naming the Quiet Part Out Loud

by Sherrod Williams, Ph.D. & Griselda Macias

The minute we begin our professional journeys, we are told to build connections, expand our circles, and show up—at events, on LinkedIn, in rooms where opportunity is said to live.

But for many people, networking begins with a more fundamental question, one rarely named out loud:

Do I belong here at all?

Beneath the surface, networking is more than a career skill. It is an emotional experience shaped by identity, access, and belonging.

For some, it is energizing; for others, it feels performative, exhausting, or fraught with anxiety.

And for those who move through rooms without questioning their place, the question changes:

Who else gets invited in?

Small acts such as recognition, sponsorship, and intentional welcome can alter someone’s trajectory.

We didn’t arrive at this insight through theory. We arrived at it through experience.

The Moment We Realized

Many people could write a version of this story—we know that now. But we didn’t always.

Before we spoke with others, before we looked at the data, we both walked into rooms where we weren’t sure we were meant to be there.

Sherrod: Present But Unseen

As a first-generation student stepping onto the University of Alabama at Birmingham’s campus, I assumed it would feel like high school—somewhere I’d naturally excel and thrive. I imagined walking into rooms and conversations starting easily, my name already familiar.

I was wrong.

At new student orientation, I walked into a networking social filled with hundreds of students laughing and reconnecting. I didn’t know a single person. Within seconds, that feeling returned: What if I’m not cool? What if I say something stupid?

I stood along the wall, scanning the room, pretending to have a good time. Groups formed and re-formed around me. Laughter rose and fell across the space. Thirty minutes passed without me saying a word.

Eventually, I left and returned to my hotel room, wondering if I had misjudged myself or the room.

I didn’t have language for it then. I just knew I felt out of place.

Looking back, I recognize that moment for what it was: my first experience of networking without belonging.

And I carry that memory into professional spaces even now.

Griselda: Old Questions, New Rooms

As I grew into my leadership and stepped into rooms that weren’t as diverse—especially when I was invited in because of my leadership or expertise—that feeling crept back in.

Do I truly belong here?

Have I really earned the title of director?

Am I really an expert?

In early 2026, I joined a meeting with other post-secondary leaders from across the city—a group tapped for their expertise. As I walked into the room, my mind began to race. I quickly noticed how few Latinas were present.

Was I invited because of my qualifications, or because I represent a perspective? Am I here to check a box? Have I done enough to deserve this space?

Networking has opened doors and built relationships. But it has also brought moments that spotlight my differences—

“I love your jewelry. Where is it from? Mexico? Were you born there?”

I’ve learned to make networking my own. For me, it hasn’t just been about career advancement. It has been about authentic connections.

And even now, I still have to tell myself: You do belong. You’ve earned this.

Belonging—feeling like I deserve the seat at the table—has followed me at every stage of my journey.

It Wasn’t Just Us

When we began speaking with others, we realized our experiences weren’t isolated. The pattern became impossible to ignore.

We spoke with three professionals navigating rooms where belonging wasn’t automatic, rooms where access was visible but integration was not.

What emerged wasn’t a collection of separate stories. It was a shared emotional pattern.

We also surveyed professionals across career stages, from emerging talent to seasoned executives. One thing became clear: belonging is not guaranteed in professional spaces.

Belonging is sometimes extended.

Sometimes claimed.

And sometimes designed.

Andrew: Earning His Way Into the Room

Andrew now sits at tables where decisions ripple across the country. But when he first arrived in DC, he walked into a crowded happy hour and felt like “a fish out of water.”

Around him, conversations flowed between people who seemed deeply connected, fluent in a language he hadn’t yet learned. He hadn’t grown up inside those networks.

“I didn’t inherit a network. I built it.”

His earliest break came from a cold email—one message that turned into an internship, then his first job. At the time, he didn’t think of it as networking. He was simply creating opportunity.

Still, imposter syndrome lingered. He felt like “a square peg in a round hole”—determined to prove himself, hesitant to ask questions for fear of exposing what he didn’t know.

What shifted everything wasn’t confidence. It was sponsorship. Two colleagues began pulling him into rooms, making introductions, treating him as if he belonged before he fully believed it himself.

Later, he became the one pulling others in. Now, when doubt surfaces, he returns to a simple truth:

“If you’re in the room, you’re meant to be there.”

For Andrew, belonging was first extended.

Isaiah: Refusing to Shrink

Isaiah was new in his role when he walked into a national conference and immediately felt different.

He entered the space without the same credentials many others shared. In a room where shared language flowed effortlessly, he felt visibly and professionally out of place.

When the session ended and the crowd moved into another ballroom, reconnecting like old colleagues, he paused:

Do I really belong here?

Anxiety surfaced — followed quickly by inadequacy.

“I had to slap myself back into consciousness.”

If he was going to stay in the room, he wouldn’t perform a version of himself to fit it.

“I don’t want to sell you the wrong fish.”

Instead of shrinking, he chose to show up fully—unfiltered, unmistakably himself.

After each session, he invited others who seemed similarly disconnected to stay and talk. If no one else was going to lead, he would.

Within a year, that informal gathering became a coalition. They weren’t just attending the conference anymore. They were presenting at it.

“If there isn’t a space for you, create one.”

For Isaiah, belonging was claimed.

Melina: When Proximity Isn’t Enough

Melina is often the only woman of color in the room.

She is ambitious. She is talented. And yet, in spaces where advancement moves through proximity and long-standing relationships, she can feel unseen.

She wasn’t openly excluded.

She was kept at the edges.

Leadership circulated within familiar circles. Mentorship moved through friendship and proximity.

She refuses to code-switch for access, even knowing that refusal carries consequences.

So she expanded the map.

If her region didn’t open doors, she searched nationally. There, she found affinity spaces with other women of color—rooms where her experience was validated and her voice amplified.

She also noticed something structural: even the physical setup of a room with rows instead of circles and surface-level introductions instead of intentional dialogue, shaped who connected and who didn’t.

Belonging, she realized, doesn’t just happen. It has to be designed — and what she described wasn’t isolated.

The Data Matched the Stories

We heard from 65 respondents across sectors, career stages, and demographic groups. What emerged mirrored what we had already heard.

Access opens the door. Belonging decides who gets to stay inside.

1. Title Doesn’t Fix Belonging

Belonging does not increase as professionals move up the ladder.

• 80% of emerging professionals reported not fully belonging.

• 84% of mid-career professionals reported the same — the highest of any group.

• 75% of senior leaders also reported not fully belonging (which many described as exclusion).

Even at senior levels, exclusion persists. The question simply changes from gaining access to sustaining legitimacy.

Andrew put it simply: “If you’re in the room, you’re meant to be there.”

2. Mid-Career: The Tightest Squeeze

Mid-career professionals reported both the highest rate of exclusion (84%) and the most emotionally layered responses, averaging 4.57 emotions among those who reported exclusion or weren’t sure.

Their descriptions carried a distinct intensity: pressure to prove, anxiety tied to visibility, doubt layered with ambition.

As Isaiah put it, standing in a national conference ballroom:

“Do I really belong here?”

Early career is about gaining entry. Mid-career becomes about proving legitimacy.

The exclusion becomes more visible, and in some cases, more personal.

3. The Higher You Climb, the Further You Feel

Exclusion intensified for those without inherited networks.

Nearly 90% of immigrant-background respondents reported exclusion and 83% of emerging first-generation professionals did as well. Among senior leaders who were first-generation, 87.5% reported not fully belonging.

Advancement did not eliminate exclusion. It revealed the unspoken rules more clearly.

Access may be earned. But the language, norms, and unspoken rules of a room are not evenly inherited.

4. Belonging Gets Harder at the Intersections

Identity is layered, and so is the experience of exclusion.

In this sample, respondents who identified across multiple racial or ethnic categories reported higher emotional intensity when describing exclusion, though this subgroup was smaller in our sample.

For them, belonging was not a single negotiation. It was constant navigation.

“I’m not forcing friendships, and I’m not code-switching to fit,” Melina said.

Her refusal was intentional, and it carried a cost.

In rooms not built to hold complexity, belonging is rarely passive. It must be negotiated.

5. It’s Not the Sector. It’s the Culture.

There is no “safe” industry.

Across the major sectors represented, belonging gaps ranged from 66% to 93%.

Nonprofit respondents reported the highest rate of exclusion (92.9%), which is striking for a sector that often centers equity in its mission.

Government respondents reported the highest emotional intensity, averaging 6.2 emotions per respondent when describing exclusion.

This isn’t about one demographic group or one industry. It’s about how professional culture is built.

Networking culture often rewards who you already know more than what you actually bring.

Melina said it plainly:

“Belonging doesn’t just happen. It has to be designed.”

Isaiah offered another path: “If there isn’t a space for you, create one.”

But while individuals can build community, the responsibility cannot rest solely on those navigating exclusion.

As Andrew reminded us: “You can’t pull the ladder up behind you.”

Belonging is shared work. And it demands something from everyone.

Reimagining the Room

We entered this article with a simple assumption: networking is essential to professional growth.

After the conversations and the survey, that belief hasn’t changed. People see networking as a driver of mobility — a pathway to sponsorship, promotion, and opportunity. It opens doors.

But what we also saw, clearly and consistently, is that those doors do not open evenly.

What was most striking in this journey is what we did not hear.

No one said people just need more confidence.

Instead, we heard calls to design better rooms — to share power more openly, sponsor more intentionally, and stop treating belonging as accidental.

And importantly, no one was asking for it to be done for them.

They were asking for it to be done with them.

If you are walking into a room where belonging feels uncertain:

• Build, even if you didn’t inherit.

• Choose authenticity over performance.

• Create space when none exists.

And if you control access, even in small ways:

• Make the introduction.

• Sponsor the wildcard.

• Formalize mentorship.

• Design the room with intention.

• Share the ladder.

None of this requires a revolution. It requires a willingness to reimagine the room.

Because networking isn’t just about who gets ahead.

It’s about who gets invited in, who feels seen, and who no longer has to wonder whether they belong at all.

As leaders who design spaces, we have more influence over belonging than we often admit. Culture is built by what we tolerate — and by what we decide to redesign.

And redesign starts with what we do in the next room.