A year ago, I was writing product descriptions, ad scripts, and brand stories for a major company. I helped shape the voice of a multi-million dollar brand. Then one day, I got an email that felt like a gut punch: “Due to company restructuring and AI integration, your position is being phased out.”

Translation? The robot writes better, faster, and cheaper than you.

I stared at the screen, stunned. Not because I thought I was irreplaceable, but because I was the one who trained the damn thing. I fed prompts into ChatGPT, refined its output, and wrote the “humanized” copy it tried to mimic. And then I watched it learn me—then replace me.

From the bus boycotts of Montgomery to the algorithmic layoffs of today, Black labor has always had to fight for its place. But this latest wave—automated, data-driven, and dressed up as innovation—feels even more sinister. Because it’s not just coming for our jobs. It’s coming for our voices.

Black copywriters already live in an industry that favors certain aesthetics: clean, minimal, “non-threatening.” I had to fight for inclusive language. Push back against tone-deaf messaging. Suggest campaigns that actually spoke to our communities. But when ChatGPT entered the chat, all that nuance disappeared.

Language models don’t do culture well. They flatten. They mimic. They remix with no credit. My writing—Black, woman, nuanced, rhythmic—was seen as a style to copy, not a perspective to keep. Soon, the internal Slack messages stopped pinging. My assignments dropped off. My log-ins stopped working.

Then came the official email.

I’m not alone. McKinsey reports that up to 4.5 million Black workers are at risk of automation-driven displacement in the next decade. And while much of the focus is on blue-collar roles, white-collar creatives like me are quietly disappearing, too.

AI tools have been shown to favor white-coded language and penalize the kind of cultural expression Black creatives bring to the table. A Brookings study found that AI-powered hiring tools favor resumes with white-sounding names over Black ones. And Business Insider reported that ChatGPT-ranked resumes put Black men near the bottom, even when qualifications were equal.

So when tech bros say “AI will level the playing field,” I have to laugh to keep from crying. Because from where I’m sitting—jobless, overlooked, and ghostwritten by a machine—the playing field is doing exactly what it’s always done: keeping us out.

Let’s talk money. Black households already own just a fraction of white household wealth—about one-seventh, according to the latest data. Now McKinsey says AI could widen that gap by $43 billion annually by 2045.

That’s not just a statistic. That’s my missed rent. That’s me tapping into savings meant for my daughter’s education. That’s gigs I’m scrambling to pick up while brands pump out soulless, algorithmic content and call it “efficiency.”

We need more than platitudes about reskilling and “learning to prompt.” We need:

• Policy that addresses AI-driven workplace discrimination like the civil rights issue it is.
• Investment in creative careers at HBCUs and community colleges—because STEM isn’t the only field worth protecting.
• Equity audits for any brand using AI tools for hiring or content generation.
• Black leadership in tech rooms, in editorial rooms, and in the rooms where the future is being coded.

I’m a writer. I built a career working for brands and telling stories that felt honest and human. But AI didn’t just take my job. It tried to take my voice. And the scary part? It almost got away with it.

But here’s what AI will never have: lived experience. Cultural rhythm. Humor forged from struggle. The Black woman’s pen is still sharper than any prompt. So no, I’m not done. I’m just shifting platforms.