Dear white colleagues … your black coworkers are not okay
But on the inside, we are broken pieces being held together by tape.
Over the last few months, Black people have not only watched their friends and family members die at higher rates from the coronavirus, they have also watched people who look like them be gunned down while going for a jog, be murdered in their homes, threatened while bird watching in Central Park, and mercilessly choked on camera.
And every day, we have woken up and answered the emails and gotten on the Zoom calls.
We’ve showed up with a smile, and put the pain and fear behind us. We’ve swallowed the rage while responding to our bosses, and offered the assistance and worked twice as hard for half as much — because that’s all we know how to do.
But we show up for work anyway. And we contain our rage, tears, fear and sadness. We write to each other in group chats. We send each other articles that articulate our feelings. We post and repost and retweet on social media. But we don’t take our pain to work.
But here’s a newsflash for all the white people unaware of this fact: your Black colleagues may seem okay right now, but chances are they’re not.
— Snippet from Your Black Colleagues May Look Like They’re Okay — Chances Are They’re Not
Danielle Cadet wrote this article back in May of 2020, but it seems that every word, emotion, and truth still rings true and present at this very moment.
This article is an open conversation to let our white colleagues; especially the ones who identify as being allies or advocates, know that your black coworkers are not okay.
This might come as a surprise to many of you because most of us show up with smiles, engage in small talk, laugh, grin, or walk around happy, seeming to be okay on the outside. But on the inside, we are broken pieces being held together by tape.
We carry with us being concerned about our cousin who is attending school virtually and likes to walk around their neighborhood to get fresh air after school, being accosted by someone who feels like they don’t belong there. Or coming to terms that the George Floyd case conviction and sentencing will yield the same results of other trials in the past. Or trying to build up the courage to ask your boss can you leave early so you can get home safely, IF, there is a guilty conviction. Even, though we worry, cringe, fight back tears, sadness, or even anger; we show up and pretend to be okay.
We come into work trying to temporarily forget the numerous reported cases of racial injustice towards black people that we have seen in the news these past couple of weeks. We come into work trying to temporally forget the numerous unreported cases of racial injustice towards black people that we have not seen in the news but have seen on social media platforms. We push aside the fact that we are going to work during a pandemic with the understanding we need a job so we can take care of ourselves and our families. We also push aside the fact there is a risk we could contract the virus and pass it to our family members, whom the news has cited as being a high-risk community.
On top of that, many of us face microaggressions and subtle incidents of bias every day at work that impact our mental and emotional health. Yet we push aside the bias and discrimination that we experience at work from our colleagues, the promotions that go to undereducated and under-qualified coworkers, or constantly having to work 100% harder than our peers so that people won’t question the work that we are doing. Or we do it for the sake of avoiding emotional confrontations that will evoke feelings of white fragility from our colleagues, which can label us as being a distraction in the workplace.
We push all this aside because we know that if we bring these issues, concerns, or decide not to minstrel our happiness for the sake of other’s comfortability, we get labeled as aggressive, emotional, wanting special sympathy, angry, hostile, and a disruption to the workplace. Many of us know that after receiving these labels we are isolated, targeted, reprimanded, and sometimes fired or forced to quit.
It’s almost like there is an unspoken rule that if you are not okay, you better get okay before you walk into the building because there is no time to upset the order of fragility by extending sympathy.
I was talking to a friend the other day, and they said that outside of your field, “no one cares.” Even though the injustice is impacting the larger community, the onus to address and solve the problem is put on the black community.
A lot of employers and colleagues see this as a personal problem we bring to work with us because we don’t know how to balance our personal and professional lives. But what about when we are expected to tell how our weekend was or if we did anything interesting? Isn’t that bringing your personal life into your professional life?
It’s almost like there is an unspoken rule that if you are not okay, you better get okay before you walk into the building because there is no time to upset the order of fragility by extending sympathy.
It’s important to note that most black people don’t want sympathy. We just want our colleagues to be aware of how our oppression is entangled with their oppression. Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. said, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.”
We don’t need sympathy; we need support.
We need support from all our white colleagues who claim to be allies and advocates. It’s important to note that the word ally is an adjective and not a noun. It’s something that you must do.
You must do more than say, “I just want you to know that I am an ally of the black community and I am here if you need me.”
You must do more than a retweet or reshare something on social media.
We need you to support us by doing the work and talking to the people in your communities for us.
I have 5 suggestions on how you can help your black colleagues move into a space where they feel supported at work and not silenced, or like they have to put on a mask to hide their true feelings.
1. Think about your intentions on why you want to be or are an ally or advocate for black colleagues. Do not become an ally because you are concerned about what side of history you will be remembered on. Ask yourself are you really “woke” or are you pretending to be because you want Sheryl to make her apple pie the next time you all have a potluck at work.
2. Examine the biases that will prevent you from being a good ally or advocate. It’s important to be aware of your bias and work through them before you go trying to help folks. As an ally or advocate, you don’t want to add to the pain and trauma the group is experiencing from other agents of oppression.
3. Educate yourself on how racism is present in the workplace and in the community. This includes reflecting on who is not commonly promoted, avoided, rated stricter on their yearly evaluations, who has access to leadership, and how do you recruit and hire people.
4. Listen, validate, and don’t dismiss experiences.
5. Make your support tangible beyond sending out an email or checking in with colleagues when no one else is around. Remember, your words are only strong as your actions.
There are so many educational materials out there for you to figure out what your plan of action can be. Start there to help shift the environments of your workspaces to be supportive, inclusive, and create a sense of belonging for everyone.
