Sunday 29 October 2017

So why exactly do black women face a concrete ceiling while their white counterparts have the glass ceiling in leadership position?


Watching ’12 years a Slave' left me upset, not because I didn’t know about the horrors of slave trade, but  it brought to surface clearly what we seem to have forgotten , i.e. that we can’t talk about gender without considering race when it comes to women equality. The horror of the institution of slavery during the late eighteenth century was not that it displaced millions of African people from their homes to the US, but rather that it laid the foundation for the commodification and dehumanization of the black body that was culturally, socially, and politically maintained for hundreds of years to come. White slave owners executed their perceived right under the creation of commoditized black bodies to sexually abuse their slaves, producing mixed race children.

As a result of commodification, black bodies were rendered disciplined subjects; beholden to the will of white men. Simultaneously, white planters‘ wives were socially conditioned to remain publicly silent in the face of their husband‘s betrayal and abuse; hence they often executed their anger on the black slave, further rendering the black body an object to be claimed by others to enact their will upon. Commodification of the black body at the start of the era allowed for the objectification of the black female body to continue throughout slavery, as portrayed by the simultaneous abuse of the masters and the subsequent retribution of the master‘s wives, which were enacted on the black female body. Depriving humans of dignity, agency, respect, and basic human rights was also the tool that was later used by slave-owners in order to create and maintain the inferior slave subject. Essentially, the humanity of the black body was ruptured into an object to be bought and sold, in order to satisfy the economic desires of the white slave owners.

‘Enslavement robbed [slaves] of the markers of their social existence—the violence of commodification signalled to [the] captives….that they had been doomed to social annihilation’

Human beings define themselves by their social interactions and relationships; the denial of these social relationships renders slaves subhuman and abnormal. Some common practices included, the sale of family members to different masters in different locations (e.g. selling children away from their parents) and masters creating sexual relationships with married slave women, among other equally destructive tactics. While black slaves could have an unofficial marriage or partnership, ―enslaved people could not legally marry in any state .The black man had no defence, if at any moment the master decided to have sex with his wife. White plantation culture dictated the behaviour of planters ‘wives; social norms stipulated that women were to be docile, gentle, and turn a blind eye to the infidelities of their husbands, whose existence they were keenly aware of. Under this cultural imperative, families operated under a model where ordered obedience created hierarchy and respect for the patriarch of the family, and produced the appearance of a well ordered family and thus society.  I know white women were also victims in this (cheating husbands and all) but white women‘s purity could only be maintained by the simultaneous upholding of the black woman‘s impurity. Black women were often fetishized, called names like ‘mammy’ and some of these tags are still their today.(topic for another day)

 Colonialism and imperialism relied upon this notion of superiority, which allowed whites to set themselves in opposition to their inferior – ‘uncivil’ non-white counterparts, and justify their actions of structural oppression as acceptable.

Black women were both fetishized and regarded as impure, when seen in contrast to the modesty of white women; therefore at the height of slavery, relationships with slave women were decidedly culturally unacceptable. However, just because these relationships were frowned upon did not mean that men resisted crossing the line of this social taboo; they did.

Black females were seen as sexually promiscuous and lustful, thus cases of sexual violence were often viewed as being the fault of the black woman. These cultural assumptions were successful in indirectly reinforcing the notion of the pure white woman, set against the vileness of the black one.

So for me it is very difficult to talk about gender equality only forgetting that we are actually starting the battle at different levels. Any policies by any organisation on equality should be all inclusive (gender, race, class, ability, religion etc).  If we are running a 100 metres race and my competitors are 20 metres in front of me before the whistle to start the race is blown , then it’s  clearly a race I won’t win.  

Black women have always been at the bottom of the pile even in countries where black people are the majority with men being on top. As far as I am concerned , its pretence to talk about gender  equality only and empowering women when we are all separated by social factors. If white women have no equal rights as white men, where are black women in all this?  Who is being empowered? We need policies that are inclusive. (Athena Swan charter should have been mixed with the race charter). I have seen efforts being made to promote women following the introduction of this but I don’t see any women of colour in position of power or even in clerical/ administrative jobs.

 

 

 

Friday 27 October 2017

What is Intersectional feminism?


I attended a very interesting talk on intersectionality which I found very refreshing.  And I agree with Kimberle Crenshaw. The problem we have is we forget that when we talk of women oppression on individual basis, we create other channels of oppression. For example talking about ‘glass ceilings for women’ doesn’t take away the fact that for black women it’s more like ‘concrete ceiling’ because of the racism, and what about their class, ability of even gender?

So Intersectional feminism recognizes that certain groups of people have multi-layered facets in life that they have to deal with, such as racism and sexism

Intersectionality is a term that was coined by American professor Kimberlé Crenshaw in 1989. The concept already existed but she put a name to it. The textbook definition states:

‘’The view that women experience oppression in varying configurations and in varying degrees of intensity. Cultural patterns of oppression are not only interrelated, but are bound together and influenced by the intersectional systems of society. Examples of this include race, gender, class, religion, ability, and ethnicity.”

In other words, certain groups of women have multi-layered facets in life that they have to deal with. There is no one-size-fits-all type of feminism. For example, I am a black woman and as a result I face both racism and sexism as I navigate around everyday life.

Even though the concept of intersectionality in feminism has been around for decades, it only seems to have made it into mainstream debate in the past year or so. And yet still so many people are confused by what it means, or what it stands for.

It doesn't help that the message surrounding intersectional feminism has been somewhat confused.

The main thing 'intersectionality' is trying to do, I would say, is to point out that feminism which is overly white, middle class, cis-gendered and able-bodied represents just one type of view - and doesn't reflect on the experiences of all the multi-layered facets in life that women of all backgrounds face. For example how does a woman Professor sitting in the comfort of their office at one of the Oxbridge University represent a poor woman struggle in the middle of nowhere in Africa, India or Brazil?

Until the mainstream feminist movement starts listening to the various groups of women within it, then it will continue to stagnate and not be able to move forward. The only result of this is that the movement will become fragmented and will continue to be less effective.

There is the mistaken belief that the only 'privilege' that you can have relates to skin colour. This is not the case. You can be privileged because of your class, educational background, religious background, the fact that you’re able bodied or cis-gendered. A lot of black women can and do have privileges too.

Everyone I talk to about feminism from my poor country of Zimbabwe has a problem with this term. To them, feminism is overwhelmingly white, middle class, cis-gendered and able bodied. When voices within a movement are marginalised to the point where they don’t even think that it is for them, the only result of this is that the movement is weakened becoming less effective.

Intersectionality is still a relatively new term for the masses - and yet its message is one that surely any feminist can relate to: start listening to and including various groups of women, and their multi-layered facets and experiences of life, and respect them, in the overall debate.

 

Monday 23 October 2017

Some stereotypes that one might associate with in the work place



Being black in the western workplace comes with a whole bunch of unique experiences that only black people can relate to, and the struggle can be very real sometimes.

So if you’re not black, do take note, and if you feel personally attacked by some of these points, then you my friend are probably guilty of some of these things.

1. The ‘I’m not trying to be racist’ or ‘I don’t mean to sound racist but…’ We’ve all heard this one before. This statement is always followed by something borderline racist, racist, or just pretty damn stereotypical. And no, not all black people like dancing. Non-black people love it too. And no, I don’t know where the stereotype came from. So please stop asking me and please stop being silly, thank you.


2. ‘WOW. Did your hair grow over the weekend?’ This one can be quite sweet because you get to educate your colleagues on the wonders of black hair. However, the other side of this is dealing with those annoying looks and a million questions about how your hair ‘grew’ overnight.  Normally I say yes, but you still hear the question, ‘’Oh I had a black friend who told me its extensions.’’  Then why ask me? And yes, it’s a weave darling and white and Asian people wear them too. So what? On the hair issue I told a workmate I was going to dye the tips my locks blonde and she was like ‘ Oh no, you can’t do that?’  When I asked why not she said black people can’t do blonde. When I asked further who said so, there was no response. Another social construct! I will rock whatever I want without giving a damn what people think, thank you.


3. Straight hair, no fear. You hear about this one all the time. Dodgy workplaces that drop people for not having a hairstyle classified as ‘professional’ because their hair is not bone straight, so you opt for something more ‘toned down’ and ‘normal’ to fit in with the standards. What standards though?


4.‘I know someone from there’ This one happens a lot. You tell someone that you’re from Zimbabwe then they proceed to explain how their brother’s, ex-girlfriend’s was also Nigerian. Some even assume you are from Kenya or South Africa and go on to talk to you about their holiday in either of the countries without actually thinking that Africa is a mighty big place.


5. ‘Oooh, what’s that?’ As much as you’d like to bring in some of your country foods from home and eat peacefully at your desk, you just can’t deal with all the scrutiny and a million questions about what you’re putting into your mouth. In a place I once worked a lady from Ghana was made to cry because of the way people commented about her food. Really, what’s that all about?

6. No, I don’t know the name of that rapper You’re used to everyone assuming that you know the name of a RnB/rap/hip-hop song or artist because, you’re black. I was at my desk once listening to an audio book ‘At the Existentialist CafĂ©’ and was asked ‘Is that Drake?’ I didn’t know what to say, yes we love music so do many people and no, it’s a book! Having earphones does not mean I am listening to Drake!


7.‘What is your real name?’ Getting asked ‘what your real name is can be something’ and replying Abigail because that’s my name and then on que, they respond ‘no, I mean what’s really is your name?’ as if being black makes me have a weird sounding name. If I said I was Peter, why not accept I could be Peter, period! Since when has a person not known their name?


8. Twice as hard. Constantly feeling like you have to work twice as hard as your white colleagues to prove yourself, because no matter what you do you might still be seen as lazy.


9. ‘We’ll just call you Abbie M’. People having trouble saying your ‘exotic’ last name but can confidently say Zlatan Ibrahimovic in a heartbeat. Somewhere I worked I was told, ‘we can’t say your name; it’s too foreign and difficult’. Its only because they don’t see no Smith, they have concluded it’s difficult to say yet phonetically it’s easy to just follow the English sounds! The most annoying thing is they don’t even try!


10.The angry black girl/ The aggressive black man. You’re aware of stupid, negative stereotypes like being ‘the angry black girl’ or ‘the aggressive black man’ so you try and downplay everything. You turn a blind eye to the nonsense and be careful not to talk too loud or even get too excited about anything, in case your colleagues think you’re ‘raising’ your voice. Happens to me all the time!


The list is endless but it comes back to the fact that some of non-whites have everything we do judged by western or white standard.  And we wonder why prejudices and racism keep taking different forms!

 

Wednesday 18 October 2017

Why men deny sexually harassing women at work



The Harvey Weinstein revelations have highlighted a surprising ignorance about an issue that affects every workplace.

 

 “Would you do a three-way?” (Peter*), one of the managers, asked me.

It was my first job and I had just graduated from the University of Zimbabwe. I was young and had joined the company as a junior, and was one of several women in the team. Over the coming few months, I witnessed Peter saying some of the most repulsive things to female co-workers, some of which include:

“You’re a slut” (after witnessing a member of his team kissing her boyfriend in the car park)

“Why do you wear lipstick like a whore?”

“This is an ass I could kill for” while eying a female colleague

 “You’re a fake lesbian. All you need is a good f*** from the right guy -  I’m willing to do the deed” (to a female colleague who kept short hair and wore baggy trousers)

“The only reason I hired you was because of your boobs. (joking he said)

At one point, he took a picture of a female colleague, whose skirt had been blown up by the wind, which he proceeded to show to others in the office. She was the only one brave enough to take him to HR.

 

Why did he get away with it?

This was the norm. Though it was known in the office that Peter made most women feel uncomfortable, he had become part of the office culture. He was the guy that got rides from everyone, got drunk with everyone and joked with everyone.

People have a hard time accepting that the men they know and like can be guilty of sexual misconduct. When I asked about his behaviour in my second week, I was told by a team members that “that’s just who he is”.

So Peter continued to say what he wanted to say on the basis of being “who he is”.

That’s when I realised that the workplace is no different to any other environment for women - where sexual harassment and misconduct is not about incidents, but about culture. When discrimination and indignity is supported and tolerated in any culture, it’s astounding how quickly one can get used to it.  

It seemed that every woman in the office acclimatised to it too, because when HR finally asked about Peter only  one person came forward. Not one other woman, including me, said anything – which in itself is a powerful commentary on what we had come to accept as normal.

 

The language of sexual violation

In the UK,the Equality Act of 2010 has this definition: “unwanted conduct of a sexual nature which has the purpose or effect of violating someone’s dignity, or creating an intimidating, hostile, degrading, humiliating or offensive environment for them.” It covers indecent or suggestive remarks, unwanted touching, requests or demands for sex and the dissemination of pornography.

The terminology sounds simple enough, but my experience of office sexual harassment was anything but.

Sexual misconduct of any kind is always shrouded in semantics. A recent study from researchers at the University of North Dakota threw into light the role of language when it comes to men’s understanding of sexual assault. Among the respondents, a group of 73 straight male students, one in three reported that they would force a woman to have sex if they knew they could get away with it. According to the report, 31 percent of the men surveyed said they would force a woman to have sex “if nobody would ever know and there wouldn’t be any consequences.”

But when researchers asked the same question, this time dropping the language of forced sex and using the word rape instead, that number dropped to 13 percent: “Respondents, it seems, were comfortable with the act of rape, just not the name.”

Similarly, most men who engage or instigate sexual harassment at work are likely not self-identified creeps. They don’t regard what they do as ‘sexual harassment’. Sometimes their behaviour is unintentional, and other times it’s pouched in denial: “I don’t sexually harass women, I simply make dude-jokes that the ladies don’t get!”

Like the majority of rapists and racists, they refuse to admit the label that defines their behaviour.

Tolerance of misogyny

 

This kind of harassment thrives off ambiguity and is fuelled by rape culture. People don’t report it because it’s usually someone they know, they don’t want to be blamed and they don’t want to be stigmatised. Most importantly, they don’t know if it really was violation.

Once you pull the first brick out of the pile, the whole wall starts to crumble and everyone who was complicit gets hit. It’s not simply about the perpetrator, but about his friends in the office, the other seniors, apathetic managers, and worst of all, the people who have seen his behaviour but think it’s “not a big deal”.

For most women, it’s easier to simply suffer the harassment and look the other way – which, to be frank, is something we do every day, regardless. It’s basically the female modus operandi for living. Why should the workplace be any different?

Except it should.

It should be different and it should be called out and organisations should be held accountable. This kind of discrimination didn’t materialise when the person said or did something inappropriate. It started when they realised that they can say things like that.

It started when management and companies decided not to actively engage in conversations around sexual harassment. Companies alone may not be responsible for global gender inequality, but they do have a legal responsibility to protect employees and they can be held accountable for that.

Talk about it

 

If this is something that you’re facing, do not remain quiet. There are 2 basic steps you should consider:

 If someone says or does something inappropriate, confront them as soon as possible. Often it’s unintentional and drawing a line will show them boundaries.

 Failing that. Bring it to the attention of Human Resources. They’re there for a reason. Use them.

These two steps can help make your life easier but they unfortunately come with no guarantees. Regardless of how women go about it, the sad statistical truth is that tackling sexual harassment is not simple and most companies deal with in the way that conservatives deal with sex-education – by not dealing with it.

Right now, harassment against women in any situation is the accepted norm. We’re told that every human being has the right to dignity, yet in practice we’re taught something very different. The normalisation of these kinds of gender dynamics can only be changed when they’re challenged – not just by individuals, but by organisations and businesses.

 

 

 

Friday 13 October 2017

Being the only person of colour in the office.

Today I’m wearing a colourful headscarf over my dreadlocks and big hoop earrings in my ears. That may not sound to you like a professional set-up, but it’s how I dress sometimes.

I’ve never had a boss who (as far as I know) deliberately set out to make me uncomfortable as a black person in the workplace, but I’ve had plenty who didn’t approve of how I talk and dress.

And I get it: Employers want the workplace to be a setting in which people can—well—work.

I know I can’t expect all of the comforts of home when I’m supposed to be focusing on representing my workplace in a professional way.

The problem is that many employers end up perpetuating racism just by following the norms that most people consider harmless, or even helpful, for creating a professional work environment.

One can unintentionally make one feel unwelcome just by upholding what’s widely considered to be “normal” workplace culture.

For instance, common standards of professional dress create dress codes that aren’t easy for many people of colour – and pretty much anyone who isn’t a wealthy, able-bodied white man – to follow.

The requirement to adhere to such a dress code would make one not just uncomfortable, but also set one up for failure. There’s an expectation to look like someone other than myself in order to do a job I’m perfectly capable of succeeding at while I look like myself.

Maybe that doesn’t seem like a big deal. There are larger issues when it comes to race and work – like blatant discrimination in hiring, racist harassment, or institutional racism.

But even so-called “trivial” things like dress code requirements and everyday micro aggression add up to create big problems for access, safety, and equity for people of colour in the workplace.

And it’s not just clothes that create obstacles for people of colour.

When you think about it, all of our common ideas about professionalism in the UK are based on an ideal of upper middle class whiteness.

So let’s think about it and then do something about it – because following the status quo on professionalism is a sure way to cause unintentional harm.

Here are some of the ways common workplace culture has created struggles for me in the workplace, and how we can work to change them.

1. People Look Down on Me Because I Don’t Straighten My Hair

Like other aspects of the dress code, you may not think that hair is the most pressing issue when it comes to race and the workplace. But for me, it’s huge. I once went to have biometrics done with a funky afro hair. On seeing me the lady at the counter shocked me by talking to me as if I was deaf and unable to comprehend what she was saying. I was given the classic, ‘Can- you- stand –over –there- and wait?’’ This was spoken slowly as if to a two year old. Why, because I looked very African possible since I was doing my biometric having arrived and therefore unable to speak English. I bet you if my hair was straightened, a bit of make-up she might have spoken to me in a normal voice.

Like many other Black woman, my hair plays a significant role in expressing my pride and my identity.

In order to fit many people’s standards of professionalism, I have to take time, put in money, and endure pain to permanently alter the texture of my hair through chemical straightening. Black folks with natural hair can be judged as everything from gang-affiliated to “distracting.”

But, shockingly, there is no correlation between straightening my hair and doing better work. When I put it that way, it’s obvious, right?

I’m a hard worker, and saying that I have to change my hair to do my job is misguided at best – and actually, it feels pretty downright insulting.

So by choosing to wear my natural hair, I’m taking a risk.

No matter how much self-love I build up, I still have to face external barriers that say that my natural beauty is not appealing

2. People Think My Natural Voice Sounds Unprofessional

There’s no one way of talking like a white person or a Black person, but usually in the UK, the idea of “speaking professionally” brings to mind a specific form of English.
That form does not include the way I naturally speak, and it sure doesn’t include African, African Caribbean.
The fact that I feel the need to change the way I speak is strange, because throughout my life, I’ve heard “compliments” about my so-called “proper” way of speaking – comments like “You’re so articulate!”

I’ve learned that this is not a compliment. It’s basically another way of saying “Wow, you don’t fit the stereotypes that come to my mind when I picture a Black person!”

There is a problem, and not only because people expect me to be something I’m not. It’s also a problem because of the negative misconceptions people associate with African/ African Caribbean accents. In a professional setting, Black users of thick African accent are judged as unintelligent, uneducated, gang-affiliated, and more. Fun enough, not Europeans. Theirs are seen as sweet and cool accents.

These racist and classist ideas about how we should speak in a professional setting actually affect all Black folks, regardless of how we naturally speak, because we’re all judged based on the same stereotypes.

I went to a Christmas party once and a workmate having been drinking all evening had the guts to ask me to ‘speak like an English person’. That was so upsetting and to make it worse people laughed. That ruined the party for me.
 All of us should be evaluated on how well we do our jobs, not on how well our voices can hide the fact that we’re Black.

3. People Doubt My Capabilities Because of My Name

Studies show that potential employers associate “black-sounding with violence and incompetence, making them much less likely to call back Muchecheti  after an interview than Connor or Smith.

Job-hunting can be discouraging enough as it is – and it’s even more demoralizing when you realize potential employers might be throwing away your CV upon reading your name, without even considering your qualifications.

My name reveals my Blackness, and I really shouldn’t have to think of it that way – like it exposes something negative about me. Turning down my application because you know I’m Black is racist discrimination, period.

But oftentimes it’s more subtle than potential employers thinking, “She’s Black, so I won’t hire her.”

Even people who don’t think they’re racist can hold subconscious biases like believing Black people aren’t hard-working. And even beyond hiring, these biases can come through in ways like laughing at our names or insisting on calling us by nicknames you find more appealing or easier to pronounce. I once worked in an office where I constantly heard other team mates either laugh at people’s names or complain that more visa people were applying (even when some of these people were British people).  And even they were visa people, aren’t we living in the world of global competition where the best gets the job?
Some Black people end up changing their names or going by initials to improve their chances of success in the job market. It’s just one of the many ways Black folks feel pressure to change or hide who we are to avoid being misjudged.

4. People Judge Me as Excessively Angry If I Get Mad or Set Boundaries

Emotion is a natural part of life – everyone gets mad sometimes, including at work.
There’s an understandable expectation to keep emotions in check, to a certain degree, in a professional setting. I wouldn’t be a very good employee if I lost my cool with every condescending customer or irritating co-worker.
But you wouldn’t be a very supportive employer if you held my emotions to a stricter standard because I’m Black.
Unfortunately, this tends to happen.

As the study on “black-sounding” names revealed, many people associate Blackness with being violent and dangerous. Further research on implicit biases shows that people who don’t even realize they hold racist views can feel this way.
I used to think my ability to be patient in all kinds of situations would help me avoid being misjudged as excessively angry.
But now I know that it doesn’t have anything to do with whether or not I’m actually angry – I can be stereotyped as an Angry Black Woman just for sharing my opinion, asserting my boundaries, or speaking in anything other than a sugar-sweet tone of voice.
That makes things really inconvenient, to say the least, in a work setting.
For white men, confidence and assertiveness are treated as positive qualities and leadership skills. But when I was a supervising manager at a retail store, I had to balance taking leadership – like telling a habitually late employee to be on time – with gentleness, so as not to be judged as aggressive when I was just trying to do my job.

I need to be able to be assertive at work not only to get my job done, but also to take care of myself while I do it.

Since emotion is part of a natural human experience, it’s unhealthy for me to suppress all emotion at work. And since setting boundaries is absolutely necessary for self-care, it’s oppressive to expect me to put up with being mistreated because people judge my assertiveness as excessive anger.

5. I Have to Stay Quiet about the Pain of Racism
As woman of colour, racism is part of my everyday life.
We’re often expected to carry the burden of racism silently, because when we talk about it, we’re seen as rocking the boat. And that even includes when racism shows up at work.
Many Black folks are familiar with this cycle: We witness or experience racism, point it out or stand up for ourselves, and then a white person cries, or feels guilty, or says they’re being attacked. Often you hear ‘Oh she has chip on shoulder or she likes playing the race card’. Suddenly, we’re seen as the aggressors creating a hostile environment, rather than being supported through the hurtful process of experiencing racism and gathering the courage to call for it to stop.
Racism is a part of my life, and especially if it’s part of my workplace, I need to be able to express my frustration with it without being seen as “attacking” white people.

6. I’m tokenized as the ‘Only One in the Room’

Many of the examples I’ve discussed so far have come up for me in white-dominated work spaces. Having more Black leaders and co-workers of colour isn’t a guarantee of better working conditions, because we can be guilty of these behaviours, too.
But there’s something special – and by “special,” I mean “oppressive” – about being the only Black person at work.
Even employers making an effort to diversify make mistakes when it comes to tokenizing, hiring one person of a certain race and expecting them to represent everyone from their community.
It’s a lot of pressure.
It comes with knowing that your every move, every misstep, every blunder will be used to judge everyone like you. When I’m in this situation, I feel like any small failure will confirm someone’s racist ideas about Black people being incompetent or lazy.
I know this fear doesn’t just come from my imagination, because of how often employers come right out and ask Black employees to speak for all Black people.
For an idea of how well that works out for me, refer back to what happens when I’m judged as excessively angry. As the only Black person, I feel the pressure to make sure others see me as a “good” Black person – as in, one who won’t call out racism or get angry or “make” white people feel bad about themselves by naming oppression.
In the end, even if I’m being tokenized as the only Black person, I’m still expected to conform to whiteness in a way that’s simply impossible for me. But it can feel like the financial support I need to survive is at risk if I don’t suppress my pain and try.
***
These are some of the struggles of not just being Black in professional settings, but especially of being unapologetically Black. I’m essentially more likely to be accepted at work if I’m ashamed of who I am.
I can laugh at racist jokes instead of admitting that they hurt me, to try to avoid being labelled as an Angry Black woman. I can straighten my hair to avoid the negative stereotypes about what it means to be a Black person with natural hair. I can change my name so my ethnicity isn’t clear on business cards or on a CV.

But I don’t have to do any of these things in order to get my work done, and I shouldn’t have to do them to convince anyone else that I’m an effective worker.

I should be able to be myself – and to be proud of who I am – while I’m at work.

The expectation of conformity with upper middle class whiteness means fewer job opportunities. It can also mean having to work at a job that requires me to put time, money, and effort into changing myself to fit in.

So pressure to conform put me at a disadvantage and adds the stress of knowing that if I slip back into my natural self, my financial stability could be at risk.

But being unapologetically Black doesn’t mean I’m incapable of doing my job. It means I feel free to be me, and that’s a feeling everyone deserves to experience at work.

 

Tuesday 10 October 2017

Realities and Racial Macroaggressions People of Colour Experience in the Workplace


 Just from speaking to other people of colour and reading around there seem to be an expectation of model and non –model minorities. Model minorities know their place and don’t stand out or shine.  Model minorities grin and bear micro and macroaggressions and call them coincidences.  Model minorities on the job are mediocre minorities who live out minority stereotypes.

I was not taught to be a model minority.  Instead I was taught to have a strong work ethic, to be prepared to work hard and to maintain my dignity and self-respect in the face of all forms of discrimination.  These were my instructions for survival as a black girl in a classist, capitalistic and patriarchal culture.  These were my safeguards as a black girl growing up.  I was taught that as a black woman oppression would be an inevitable part of my life but that I did not have to be defined by mistreatment.  My mother and other mothers taught me that I could defy misconceptions and handle my business.  They helped me understand that an acknowledgment of oppression is not acquiescence. From an early age I knew I had to fight oppression in its many forms.

I remember Paul Matavire- a Zimbabwean musician and songwriter singing in the 90s about how women were expected to sleep with the boss in order to get a job or a promotion at work.  Mind you this was happening in the world of work and still is. I also remember in high school male teachers making vulgar jokes about female students and the boys laughing. These male teachers enjoyed sexual jokes not at the expense of all pupils but only us girls. I remember, I remember….. The list is endless. And from an early age I knew I had to fight all forms of discrimination then and as an adult woman, at home and in the workplace.
Here is a list of some macro aggressions in the workplace but the list is endless,

1.     You are expected to speak for and on behalf of people of color everywhere.  You are sometimes expected to be the barometer of racism.  If there is a conscience in the workplace, you are it.  You carry the burden of calling out discrimination when you see/experience it with the risk of retaliation which can be anything from being overlooked for a promotion, to losing your job altogether for creating a “hostile” environment.  If/when you don’t call out racism, you emotional turmoil and guilt, feeling like a sell out for not standing up for yourself or others.

2.     You are routinely accused of being hostile, aggressive, difficult and/or angry.  In one organisation, I was told ''oh don't mind so and so she has a Central European temper and the lady in question chuckled and people clapped their hands in support but if I dare show my anger even when it's within reason , OMG , I am accused of all sorts.  You are told that your colleagues/students/co-workers/customers are intimidated by you and are afraid to approach you.    You are encouraged in evaluations to “smile more,” and “be friendlier.”  You practice a fake ass smile in the mirror on your way out the door and practice all the way to work.  You fear that your resting face pose makes people think you are mean. In one of my jobs I was told I had a glazed look that they didn't understand. Up to now I have no idea what this was all about. All it was about was they wanted to portray me as different from my white colleagues.

3.     You are required to be the diversity on committees and in meetings because black is the only diversity that matters.  Your blackness makes it easy to “see” that a diversity quota has been met.

4.     You feel unappreciated, undercompensated and overworked.  You are afraid to ask for compensation, a promotion, praise or affirmation.  You have been socialized to be satisfied that you have a job.  You feel guilty for not feeling grateful.

5.     You are regularly nominated for or assigned extra tasks and responsibilities for things no one else wants to do (especially things involving other people of colour).  You are encouraged to work with other people of colour, join people of colour groups, attend people of color activities, etc.

6.     Your absence (at work, at meetings, at parties) stands out with no regard to how exhausting it is to be the only black person in the room.  You are encouraged to not think of yourself as black when you are the only black person in the room.

7.     You are often vilified and/or criticized for doing your work (too early or on time, well or not good enough).  You are labeled as either an overachiever or a slacker, as too ambitious or lazy.  You struggle to find the balance between these things.

8.     You feel that no matter what you do or how hard you work, you need to do more (or sometimes less).  Nothing is ever (good) enough.

9.     You feel the need to constantly prove yourself worthy of your job or opportunity.  You know that some people assume you got your job, promotion, award, or special recognition, not because you worked your ass off or deserve it, but because you are black (there goes that damn black privilege again, because you know affirmative action causes folk to get jobs they are unqualified for.

10.  You feel isolated, misunderstood, misrecognized, misrepresented, and missing in action.  You wonder how you can feel invisible and hyper visible at the same time.

Food for thought!

 

Sunday 8 October 2017

Exploring the angry black woman 'stigma'


Loud, rude, inarticulate, aggressive and defensive.

What would you do if you woke up every day knowing you're about to face a world that labels you these words at first glance?

Would you: A, overcompensate in order to defy those stereotypes? B, get angry and risk proving them right? Or C, accept defeat just to save your energy?
If you are a black woman, these are all difficult questions.
There is no correct answer. Each option sends you on a whirlwind resulting in the same solution: none.

I've repeatedly tried all three and felt like a broken record. But really, the solution shouldn't be our burden, but the burden of those who reinforce these ideas.

If you habitually choose option B, I don't blame you.

Until the stigma associated with being a black woman changes, we have every right to be as angry as we feel. The very least we should be afforded is the right to be noticeably frustrated with how we are treated in society.

The last person who should be blamed for any black woman stereotype is a black woman.

Most stereotypes of the black woman were created by white men in the 1830s.

They would dress in black face and perform on stage mocking black women and portraying them as loud, masculine and unattractive. White audiences not only found these acts amusing, but they accepted these representations as truth.

The "jezebel" stereotype of the black woman stems from the over-sexualization of black women in the media.

It's successful at degrading and exploiting black women, while also encouraging young girls to play into this character and ignore safety precautions while engaging in sexual behaviors. This has played a role in the growing rate of African American girls contracting HIV.

Black women have also been deemed emasculating and overbearing, which affects our romantic relationships with men, as well as how we're viewed in the workplace.

During slavery, black women were stripped of their femininity to be considered able to do slave work. Femininity was assigned to white women, so they could remain valued and believed to be in need of protection. Black women were, in many ways, lumped in with black men as far as labor.

In other ways they were able to one up black men by winning approval to manipulate the system in order to provide for her family. The pinning of black women and men against each other pushed forth further the idea that black women are domineering.

The list of stereotypes and effects each has on black women could go on for hours. The only thing more exhausting than explaining our adversities is living with them. Many may argue that by allowing ourselves to express our anger, we share responsibility in emphasizing the angry black woman stereotype.

I disagree.

This specific stereotype is a clever trap. It highlights a warranted response that would otherwise be accepted from privileged cultures in the face of injustice, and applies it to one specific group of people (black women), thus making it nearly impossible to defy.

Every black woman has experienced the "I don't want to be the angry black woman" scenario.

We have internalized this stigma, and find ourselves at a crossroads every day. What if we're provoked? Which road do we take? If I turn the other cheek or flash a fake smile, the best case scenario is that I'm viewed as one of the "good" ones.

Racist stereotypes are so resilient, even when you prove them wrong, you're only viewed as the exception to the rule. Everyone else who looks like you doesn't get a pass. And even if you do, what good is it if you'll still be judged by someone new tomorrow?

Many of us find ourselves in predicaments that challenge our dignity, though perpetrators and witnesses downplay it as if we're only fighting for our pride.

Pride and dignity are often confused as one in the same.

Pride and dignity are often confused as one in the same, but pride revolves around ego and dignity is the core of our character and self-worth. When we defend ourselves, it has no relation to our ego. We are fighting for the right to be treated as equal human beings deserving of the same opportunities as everyone else.

Pride revolves around ego and dignity is the core of our character and self-worth.

Our character is tested daily. Many of us are faced with a choice: accept humiliation or fight back. Be silenced or take the bait.

Well, here's one thing we need to remember: We are not responsible for the stereotypes forced upon us. Allowing myself to be fed up with discrimination and mistreatment should not trigger another count against me. And if it does, I will not let anyone convince me that I am at fault.

Living our truth and expressing our feelings are two things we have that cannot be taken away.

My challenge for everyone who is not a black woman is to stop guilt trapping black women into pretending as if everything is OK. The last person who should be blamed for any black woman stereotype is a black woman.

And as for the "angry black woman" stigma? When I am angry, please understand that I have every right to be. Just like anybody else!

And never feel ashamed of that.