My Story: What I Faced at Facebook/Meta
When I was first hired at Facebook (now Meta), I was thrilled. It felt like a dream come true — a chance to work at one of the most recognized companies in the world, to collaborate with top talent, and to grow professionally in ways I had always hoped for.
I was placed on a small team — eight of us in total: six women, one other man, and our supervisor, who was also male. At first, the environment seemed innovative and energizing. But it didn’t take long for the tone to shift.
Over the 26 months I worked there, my direct supervisor repeatedly made inappropriate comments and advances toward me. Some were subtle — compliments that veered too far into personal territory, lingering glances, private invitations under the guise of “mentorship.” Others were blatant — suggestive messages, uncomfortable comments about my appearance, and moments when he made it clear that he expected more from me than just professional contributions.
I never accepted or encouraged any of it. I held my boundaries, stayed focused on my work, and did everything I could to excel. Still, I constantly felt the weight of knowing that my career progression might hinge on playing along with behavior I knew was wrong.
I kept it to myself at first — trying to rationalize, trying to survive, hoping it would stop. But it didn’t.
Then, 26 months into my employment, I received notice that I was being let go. I was shocked. I had consistently met expectations, contributed meaningfully to my projects, and received positive feedback.
The real blow came when I discovered that nearly everyone on our team was also being terminated — everyone except the one male employee who wasn’t our supervisor. All six women were out. He remained.
It was in that moment that the pattern snapped into focus. I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I was being pushed out — not because of my performance, but because I didn’t comply. Because I said “no.” Because I was a woman who refused to be quiet.
The discrimination was unmistakable. The message was loud and clear: my presence was tolerated as long as I played along. The moment I didn’t, I was disposable.
This isn’t just my story. It’s one that too many women in tech — and in workplaces across industries — know all too well. But staying silent helps no one. Sharing this isn’t easy, but it’s necessary.
I want others to know they’re not alone. I want people to understand that these environments exist, even in companies that pride themselves on “progress.” And I want to be part of the change that ensures no one else has to endure what I did.
If you’ve experienced something similar — I see you. And I believe you.
My Story: What Happened When I Spoke Up
I’ve spent over a decade in engineering — writing code, managing systems, and building tools that power the digital platforms billions of people rely on. When I joined Meta, I believed I was becoming part of something meaningful. Something that connected the world and elevated voices across every background and border.
As a senior-level program engineer, part of my job involved conducting general audits of core structural systems — checking that functions worked as designed, ensuring compliance, and identifying anything unusual.
That’s when I found it.
Buried in a backend function was a specific piece of logic tied to user profiles. It checked for key metadata filters — data points often tied to a user’s region, language patterns, and inferred ethnicity or political interest. Then, if that same user created a post containing certain keywords — like Gaza, Palestine, Ukraine, and a few others — the post would appear to publish normally. No warnings. No content violations. No flags.
But it never actually left the user’s screen.
To that user, it looked like their post was live. But in the system logs, I could see what really happened: it was flagged, suppressed, and shadowed — made invisible to everyone else. As far as the rest of the platform was concerned, the post didn’t exist.
At first, I thought it had to be a bug. A deeply problematic, but perhaps accidental behavior. I wasn’t thinking about politics or policy — I was thinking like an engineer. So I did what I thought was right: I brought it to the attention of my supervisors.
I wasn’t prepared for what happened next.
The meeting was tense. I explained what I found. I showed the function. I was calm, factual, and clear. I even gave them the benefit of the doubt — suggested it could be a legacy oversight or a misconfiguration. Their reaction wasn’t one of concern or curiosity.
It was panic. Defensiveness. Silence.
The next day, I was terminated.
No explanation. No process. No documentation. Just a vague statement that my position was being “eliminated.” I was escorted out of the building I had worked so hard to earn a place in.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t just a coincidence.
I believe I stumbled across something I was never supposed to see. I believe what I found wasn’t a bug — but a system, a tool, or a feature designed to limit the visibility of certain voices, especially those tied to geopolitical issues or ethnic identities. And I believe I was fired not for doing anything wrong — but for daring to ask questions.
I’m a minority woman in tech. I’ve worked twice as hard for half the recognition. And I know what retaliation feels like.
What I’ve shared here is my story. I’m not making claims. I’m not speculating beyond what I saw with my own eyes and experienced in my own life. But I am speaking out. Because silence protects systems that rely on silence.
If you’ve seen things that didn’t feel right, and you’ve been made to feel like it’s safer to stay quiet — I see you. I was you.
You’re not alone.