Growing up in an environment where technological advancements often arrived late, if at all, the sight of personal computers in store aisles was a source of endless fascination for me. These machines, often near the cash registers, held a mysterious allure. Despite knowing my family’s limited means, I found joy simply in observing them, dreaming of a future they represented. My parents, astute observers, must have noticed this profound interest. One day, against all odds and beyond our financial comfort, an Atari 1040 ST entered our home. It was more than just a computer; it was a gateway to an unknown world. My initial interactions were pure wonder – pressing a key and seeing something appear on screen felt like stepping into the future. This humble Atari ignited a passion that would ultimately define my professional path, transforming a childhood curiosity into a lifelong career in IT. Looking back, I realize this singular act of generosity from my parents, driven by their desire for my happiness, was a pivotal moment that redirected the course of my life.
Our working-class background in a popular Parisian suburb meant that access to new technologies was statistically improbable. The path ahead was often predicted to lead to exclusion, especially from the burgeoning digital world. Yet, my parents’ decision included us in the personal computer revolution, allowing me to embrace the internet’s rise, build my first PCs, and even dabble in early web development. It was a powerful affirmation that I had a right to be part of this transforming landscape.
However, this journey wasn’t without its challenges. As I progressed in my career, I noticed a growing distance from those I grew up with. I was among the small percentage who managed to change social classes, often leading to questions of “why me?” and a pervasive sense of survivor’s guilt. Along with this came the struggle to adapt to the social codes of a new professional class, constantly fearing exposure as an “imposter.” The smallest critique at work often amplified this fear, making me question my belonging. This internal battle, marked by a feeling of being understood by neither world, was a significant hurdle.
Over time, through introspection and learning, I realized these feelings were not unique. Many others, from diverse backgrounds including popular neighborhoods and rural areas, experience similar struggles. This shared experience brought immense comfort and a sense of connection. Understanding that I wasn’t alone in this journey was a powerful step towards reconciling my past with my present.
My recent work in building a tech team for a public service focused on digital literacy felt like coming full circle. It allowed me to engage in civic commitment through technology, working alongside dedicated individuals striving to bring digital skills to everyone, regardless of their background. Despite political fluctuations and resource constraints, witnessing their sincere dedication reinforced the belief that digital education is a fundamental right for all. This experience, rooted in combating the digital divide, connected my professional purpose directly to that pivotal moment when an Atari ST first entered my life, ensuring that the child from a marginalized background could contribute to the digital fabric of the Republic.
I’ve strived to make my presence felt, to ensure that names like mine are associated with innovation, and to champion a more inclusive and diverse tech world. While I wish I could have done more, I gave my best.
To the next generation: Feel legitimate. In a system designed to undermine your self-worth, cultivating confidence requires double the effort. Don’t let perceptions of arrogance deter you; stand firm. Collectively, we can build an inclusive environment where you are indispensable.
To those already established: Be concerned. Recognize that some are still searching for their place. Do not expect them to solve systemic inequalities alone. Acknowledge and validate the experiences of those who suffer from biases. Continue to champion diversity and inclusivity in tech. Make space for those not yet in the room, provide them with tools and knowledge. The next tech unicorn could very well emerge from popular neighborhoods.
As for me, I’m taking a break from France, seeking new perspectives and enrichment elsewhere. The global landscape is complex, and I feel the need to observe my country from a distance, even while knowing other places have their own challenges. This is not an abandonment, but a necessary pause for rejuvenation. I trust in the many others who are doing their part, probably far better than I. I leave in search of my place on this planet, convinced it exists.