When You’re the Only One With Range: The Hidden Cost of Being Overqualified and Still Overlooked
Sometimes they don’t see you because they can’t imagine your kind of excellence.
There’s a particular kind of grief that comes with being overqualified and under-chosen. Not underqualified. Not underprepared. Not underperforming. But overqualified—and still overlooked.
And I’m not talking about just being book smart or having more degrees than a thermometer. I’m talking about range. The kind of range that lets you thrive in policy, pivot into strategy, speak fluent culture, design curriculum, manage teams, lead a crisis response, pray in the spirit, and still style an outfit better than most publicists. The kind of range that threatens boxes and frameworks and pay bands and insecure managers who don’t know how to steward layered talent. That kind.
Some of us aren’t being passed over because we’re not ready. We’re being passed over because we are too much for small systems. And if you’re reading this and resonating—you’re not imagining it. You are carrying more than they know how to hold.
When Range Becomes a Risk
There is a myth in the professional world that range equals opportunity. That the more you can do, the more doors will open. But what I’ve experienced—and what I know to be true for many Black, Brown, and high-capacity leaders—is that range often gets reframed as threat rather than value.
And that reframe is usually silent. No one says, “We’re scared of your brilliance.” Instead, they say:
“We’re going in a different direction.”
“You’re overqualified.”
“We need someone who’s a better fit for the culture.”
“We were looking for someone with more traditional experience.”
“It was a tough decision between great candidates.”
But you know the energy. You know the pattern. You feel the resistance in the room when you enter and your presence shifts something. You see the way they try to flatten your résumé. You hear it in the backhanded compliments: You’ve done so much! Wow, you’re involved in a lot of things! Your background is so… unique.
They don’t know what to do with someone who is divinely cross-trained. And that discomfort is not about you—it’s about the systems they’ve built to reward predictability, not purpose.
The Emotional Labor of Proving You’re Not Too Much
Let’s sit with this: Being excellent isn’t always rewarded. Especially if you’re excellent and Black. Or and queer. Or and nontraditional. Or and unbought.
In my darkest cave seasons, I have wondered if being “all of who I am” is the very thing costing me opportunities. I’ve watered myself down in interviews. Shrunk my résumé. Taken out the faith work. Taken out the fashion. Softened my language so I wouldn’t be “too corporate” or “too radical.” But here’s the truth: Every time I’ve edited myself, I’ve regretted it.
Because I wasn’t born to be digestible. I was born to be disruptive.
And if they only know how to recognize excellence when it looks like them, sounds like them, and moves in the same rooms they’re already in—then you were never going to be chosen no matter how qualified you were.
Spiritual Strategy for the Overqualified and Unchosen
This isn’t just professional—it’s deeply spiritual.
Sometimes God will hide you.
Sometimes God will block the door.
Sometimes God will strip you of opportunities you could’ve mastered in your sleep—because He doesn’t want you settling for a platform you weren’t called to.
Let me be real: I’ve been in a season where I’ve cried after every closed door. Not because I didn’t believe in my worth—but because I knew what I carried, and it still didn’t seem to be enough to open the door.
But then the Holy Spirit checked me. I heard it clear in my spirit:
“They didn’t say no to you—they said no to Me.”
Every overlooked leader, every gifted applicant, every prophet in a business suit, every executive strategist who was told to “stay in your lane”—hear me: You were not rejected. You were protected.
Because no one can block what is assigned to you.
And no one can steward what is designed for you but you.
The Call to Stay Whole
So this is my reminder. To you. To myself. To all of us carrying holy range:
Stop trying to shrink so small systems can hold you.
Stop cutting off parts of yourself to fit their frameworks.
Stop auditioning for tables God told you to outgrow.
Because when God develops you in the cave, He is preparing a stage that requires your fullness. Not a watered-down, corporate-polished, spiritually-muted version. But you.
Reflection Questions:
Where have you been shrinking to be more palatable?
What parts of your range have you been taught to hide in professional spaces?
Are you confusing rejection with redirection?
What would it look like to build a space where your fullness is the standard?
I will no longer hide the parts of me that make me excellent. I was never too much—I was always made for more. I am not waiting for their invitation. I’m walking in God’s assignment.