Unbeknownst to me at the time, I lived through a moment of Black history that would quietly—but profoundly—shape my future.
Picture this. It’s my senior year at Texas A&M, and while making Black history myself as only the second Black female petroleum engineering graduate, I became fascinated with computers and the early internet. I wasn’t interested in changing my major, but I was deeply curious about possibility. I started asking questions—especially about how oil and data might mix.
I watched the Aggie Bonfire fall in slow motion using one of the first .com experiences (long before the tragic collapse of 1999). I learned how to transfer files across campus so my classmates and I could prepare for our senior presentations. These felt like small steps at the time—but they were happening during a seismic moment of technological change, one that would eventually crystallize my purpose.
Geeking Out (Before It Was Cool)
My journey as an “oily IT geek” began because of the work of Emmit J. McHenry, a network technology visionary whose company introduced the first interoperability software package. Before email, before file sharing, before websites as we know them today, McHenry’s work made it possible for computers to communicate over the internet.
In the early 1990s, if you wanted a .com, you had to get it through his company.
My role in the first oilfield technology transformation of the ’90s existed because of Emmit J. McHenry—whether I realized it then or not.
That experience transformed me too. I learned change leadership the hard way, in real time, wearing more hats than I can count: software developer, database administrator, business analyst, project engineer, trainer, and de facto change management lead. I was a young Black woman disrupting a deeply traditional industry—and I didn’t fully grasp the magnitude of what was happening, because when you’re in transformation, you rarely see it clearly.
Culture Over Cash—Then and Now
McHenry was a pioneer in every sense of the word: a Black tech founder in the early 1990s, building something entirely new without role models or a playbook. He described his vision for networked computers as a “tickle in his brain.” He wasn’t trying to be a disruptor; he was following curiosity, conviction, and community.
He also walked away from money when he realized the company that acquired his had a toxic culture—at a time when we weren’t even using that language. He later said:
“We were focused on proving some other things; we were focused on creating a culture where diverse people could really work together.”
That decision has stayed with me.
Why This Matters in the Age of AI
Thirty years later, the internet is inseparable from daily life—for better and for worse. And today, we find ourselves in another transformation moment, one driven by AI. The parallels are impossible to ignore.
Once again:
- The technology is moving faster than people are ready for
- Culture is lagging behind capability
- Black innovators are underrecognized
- Leaders are grappling with fear, resistance, and ethical uncertainty
What’s different for me now is this: I’m not new to disruption.
I didn’t train for AI. I trained for change.
The early internet taught me that technology doesn’t fail—leadership does. That progress without humanity is hollow. That culture will always outlast tools. And that the people who quietly build the future don’t always get credit—but they matter deeply.
I take inspiration from McHenry, who refuses bitterness, continues mentoring, and remains grounded in community and humanity in business. His legacy reminds me that the real work isn’t adopting the latest technology—it’s ensuring we don’t lose ourselves while doing it.
Know your history.
Recognize your contribution.
Never lose your humanity.
