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.
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