Making the Cracks Visible
On leaving Meta, the limits of corporate loyalty, and why documenting harm—from tech boardrooms to ICE encounters—is a critical step toward repair
After my last official day of work, nearly 15 years after Facebook first hired me in early 2009, I wrote a note to my suddenly “ex” Metamates; my newly former colleagues.
I included a picture of my work badge inside of a bowl. I’d been laid off while on a medical leave which started after experiencing what I’d later identify as autistic burnout and the bowl had been a gift from one of my direct reports. It was Kintsugi, a form of Japanese craftsmanship where broken pieces of pottery are mended together with sap from the Urushi tree and gold dust.
The sap, painstakingly collected by artisans from horizontal lines cut across 10 year old trees, is incredibly strong and durable. Together with the gold and broken pottery, the end product is one-of-a-kind and many would say, more beautiful than the original. It continues to be a deeply meaningful reminder that breaking isn’t the end of a story but the beginning of a new one.
My farewell e-mail to former colleagues in January 2024:
Goodbye and carry on strong ❤️
Eleven months ago, I shared my decision to take a leave of absence. Today marks the end of that chapter, as it is my final day at Meta. I envisioned returning as a success story, inspiring others to feel safe taking a leave if needed. While I won’t have that chance, I still want to convey that it was worth taking the leave. If your thoughts get scary and dark, don’t talk yourself out of getting help for fear of the impact on your career. Even after everything, the leave was still the right decision.
Unequivocally, I love this company. Being a Facebooker, and then a Metamate, has been the experience of a lifetime - nearly 15 years of the best opportunities, friendships, growth, stability and adventure. The company was there for me when I had each of my 3 babies, and throughout the pandemic roller coaster. I’ve received the most generous healthcare coverage and benefits that most people on earth will never experience. I’ve traveled the world, met the most inspiring people, and worked tirelessly side by side with many of you from the trenches of tech for a decade and a half. I’ve played a significant role in making social marketing a better experience for people by changing how companies think about marketing to them. I’ve personally supported thousands of partners and developers, building treasured relationships from the CMO to the garage coder. I’ve helped keep user data shared with third parties safe, and have helped teach regulatory bodies how the internet works. The opportunity to have an inside view of so many different business models, including ours, has been a privilege. The opportunity to learn from, know, and be known by so many of you has been the gift of a lifetime.
When I started my leave, Reality Labs had six female Directors or VPs in PMM. I am now the third to exit the company from a medical leave in the last year. Out of concern that my farewell could be woven into a more comfortable narrative, let me be unambiguous; in my experience, we make it very difficult for women to sustain long term careers, especially in roles where our job requires us to tell powerful men news they might not want to hear.
My intention is not to condemn, but to empower and encourage. I believe that nearly all of us are allies who are deeply good and deeply care. But I also believe that the problem is deeply misunderstood by even the best intending people. And that is an issue that everyone needs to care about.
There are so many people inside and outside of this company who deserve individual acknowledgement for their role in making this the career of my dreams. I’ve worked with some of the best teammates, teams, partners, and managers at this company that I want to thank. There are also a handful of people coming to mind throughout the years to whom I owe apologies. I plan to tend to the thanks and the repair when I am in a better place with my health, but I hope you feel the love I’m sending in the meantime.
I’m rooting for you! As humans, and as a company. Saying goodbye to Meta comes with mixed emotions, but the strongest one is gratitude. Facebook, Meta, everyone – thank you.
Kelly
While it would have been more comfortable for Meta if the narrative around my departure was purely about rest, healing, and new beginnings, that would not have been the truth. So I said, “Out of concern that my farewell could be woven into a more comfortable narrative, let me be unambiguous; in my experience, we make it very difficult for women to sustain long term careers, especially in roles where our job requires us to tell powerful men news they might not want to hear.”
Many would have loved it if I could’ve continued being a Meta loyalist and apologist, but that was not possible after witnessing Meta’s toxic system of silencing female voices and the vulnerabilities that created for our most vulnerable users, especially kids.
How often does our silence tacitly endorse narratives that benefit those in power? Where can telling the truth of our experience create footholds for change?
When our leaders or activists tell people to film ICE or record police encounters, it’s the same principle: don’t let those in power control the narrative. Refuse to be silenced and keep the evidence visible. Hold the story in public view so it can’t be rewritten into something easier to accept.
Oppressive systems are good at rewriting endings. Every time we accept a bubble-wrapped version, we lose a chance to see what’s actually broken in order to protect those in power.
I still look at this Kintsugi bowl every day. I love it for so many reasons, but mostly for how it models truth telling as a form of harm reduction. I love that it doesn’t ask us to obscure what’s wrong, or polish it away, or hide it in the name of moving on, but to really see what broke and repair it patiently. To hold the fuller story. To refuse the easy rewrite.
To make the cracks visible, and to choose to mend them in gold.