Proving Never Ends for the Powerless

We talk about “proving yourself” like it’s a phase.

You put in your time. You do the unglamorous work. You show you’re capable. And then—eventually—you’re supposed to arrive. Earn trust. Gain footing. Stop having to explain why you belong.

But for some people, proving never ends. There’s always another hoop. Another test. Another reminder that whatever credibility they’ve earned is provisional.

You see this everywhere.

A woman has to outperform to be seen as competent, then outperform again to avoid being seen as threatening. A formerly incarcerated person lands a job but knows one mistake will confirm every fear about them. A first-generation professional keeps saying yes because saying no feels like tempting fate.

Power decides who gets to stop proving.

For people with protection—education, money, family name, institutional backing—proving is often developmental. You’re challenged so you can grow. You’re evaluated so you can advance. The pressure points forward.

For people without protection, proving is generally conditional. You’re tested to see how much you’ll tolerate. How flexible you are. How grateful. How quiet. The pressure holds you in place.

After abuse, after poverty, after public failure, the bar doesn’t reset. It lowers for others while staying sky-high for you. You’re told you have to work harder, be better, take less, accept more. And when you do, it’s framed as character. When you don’t, it’s framed as proof.

This is how proving becomes a trap.

People accept unreasonable demands not because they don’t recognize them, but because they understand what’s at stake. Proving becomes less about growth and more about staying employed, staying housed, staying credible, staying safe.

And then, later, we ask why they didn’t push back when things went awry. Proving was never meant to be endless. When it is, it stops being a pathway and becomes a mechanism of control.

The question isn’t whether proving is necessary. It’s who gets to stop.