Introduction: Barriers to Justice

Laws alone aren’t enough to stop employers from discriminating against pregnant women, even at companies like Google.

“While trauma keeps us dumbfounded, the path out of it is paved with words, carefully assembled, piece by piece, until the whole story can be revealed.”

- The Body Keeps the Score by Bessel van der Kolk

“Trust me, Chelsey. You don’t want to file a lawsuit against a company like Google. You have a house, a husband, a job…”

So said an attorney I consulted after I decided to hold my employer, Google, accountable for blatant pregnancy and maternity discrimination. By the time I left the company in August of 2019, my mental health had drastically declined, and once again, I faced further objections when I met with a psychiatrist who advised me not to file a lawsuit.

His words were, “Move on with your life.”

Attorneys and psychiatrists are supposed to be neutral. Still, it’s common for hardships associated with pregnancy to be dismissed, and even these professionals are not immune to this bias. At first, I did as the attorney suggested. Eventually, though, I realized I would only attain justice and feel whole again through proper accountability. So, I embarked on the arduous path of filing a lawsuit against one of the biggest tech companies on earth.

Throughout the events that unfolded, I never stopped doubting myself. Did I make the right decision? Am I being strong enough? Am I exaggerating what happened? At the same time, I was getting a tremendous amount of pushback from Google, the company I had loved and trusted for years. Making it to Google was a pinnacle of achievement for me and had been my dream since graduate school. Once I was hired, I held my employment at the company up as proof to myself and all the world that I had finally made it.

My former role at Google, and in the workforce in general thus far, has been as a researcher. My résumé includes jobs at several Big Tech companies, such as Google, Facebook, and Salesforce. My supervisors often commended my high level of performance, and at Google I repeatedly earned ratings of “Superb” and “Exceeds Expectations” — until I started to question discriminatory practices.

I didn’t recognize — much less begin to question — the signs of workplace misconduct for many years into my career as a tech worker. When enlightenment came and I embarked on the path of holding Google accountable, I had no idea how long the journey would take or how much of a saga it would turn out to be.

Looking back, a defining characteristic of my journey was a lack of transparency — among my immediate teams at Google, within the higher echelons of Google leadership, at the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, and throughout the subsequent legal wrangling of my lawsuit. In each phase of obstruction and obfuscation, I found myself peering into a “black box,” a common metaphor for something with inner workings that are unknown.

When I started going public with my situation, first through a company-wide memo and later through the publication of multiple articles sharing my story, a surprising amount of women began reaching out to me. In total I’ve engaged in conversations with over seventy women — some tech workers like me, but others too. Although many of them were asking me for help with navigating pregnancy discrimination, it helped me to know I was part of a larger group of people whose stories all shared many commonalities. I’ve captured some of their thoughts, feelings, and experiences in an excerpt at the end of the book.

I know now that for every woman who files a lawsuit at the state or federal level, there are thousands more suffering in silence. Even for women who have the security and the resources to do so, fighting pregnancy discrimination — or any type of workplace misconduct — is a monumental, all-consuming effort. These barriers need to change so that all women, not just those with opportunities and advantages, can fight back.

I recognize my privilege in being able to speak out — and that’s one of the reasons that it’s vital I do. As a high-earning, American-born white woman in a dual-income marriage, I enjoy protections that many others facing discrimination do not have. Choosing to go public did not mean risking my career, a roof over my head, or a work visa.

There are many victims of pregnancy discrimination who are unable to take a public stance because of these real risks, and I hope this book speaks to them and for them as well.

Since I am a researcher by profession, I was naturally inclined to include information from outside sources to broaden the book’s perspective. However, this book is primarily about my own story and reflections. I am not a lawyer, nor am I a psychiatrist or politician. I can’t offer any complete solutions, but if my story can somehow spark additional opportunities to combat pregnancy discrimination, that will be enough.

Although the process I describe in these pages is specific to the United States — our laws, institutions, and processes — I suspect that many of the learnings from my experiences can apply to people across the globe. Wherever you are, I hope my story results in your path becoming less of a black box.

This is an excerpt from the book Black Box: A Pregnancy Discrimination Memoir. Copyright © 2023 by Chelsey Glasson. All rights reserved.