The Underserved Serving the Underserved: On Black Male Social Workers and the Lack of Adequate Supervision and Support Within Predominately White Female Work Spaces
I am a black male social worker. I have been a social worker for over 10 years. During my career majority of my supervisors have been white women. During my undergraduate and graduate internships, my field supervisors where all white women. It is not lost on me the historical tensions that exist between black men and white women. When I think of all the stereotypes and tropes that have existed about black men being these Mandingo, oversexualized threats to white female safety, I wonder just how much these beliefs impact the supervision and support that many of us Black men are getting at our designated agencies.
Historically, the black male body has always been subject to danger at the hands of white women. When we look at the case of Emmett Till, a young black boy falsely accused of whistling at a white women, we are reminded of what happens when white women get afraid- Black men die. White women have wielded this power to both subjugate and strike fear in the hearts of black men. This was seen recently in New York City where in 2020 a white woman by the name of Amy Cooper called the police on Christian Cooper a black man because he decided to film her reaction to his request that she put a leash on her dog per Central Park regulations. She was obviously in the wrong but rather than apologize and comply with his kind request, she instead called the police stating, “I’m going to tell them there’s an African American man threatening my life.” By this statement it was obvious that she knew her whiteness would absolve her of taking accountability. She knew that her whiteness was a generational shield that granted her belief simply because of the color of her skin. She also knew that she could wield America’s anti-black sentiment to her advantage and exploit this injustice as a means to get her way. She didn’t think that calling the police could have potentially placed this mans life in jeopardy. She did not care if her call resulted in the untimely execution of another black man. In some ways I think she counted on it.
In work spaces, white women have been known to orchestrate the professional demise of black men as well. I remember while interning at a local agency during graduate school, my field supervisor and I struggled to connect. I found her to be very hands off and bias and it appeared that she saw my presence as a threat to her. I remember during rare supervision sessions, I would gesticulate emphatically with my hands while discussing a client case and she would appear uncomfortable and almost, unnerved by my gestures. After a while, she called my field instructor in for a meeting and stated that she did not think I was a good fit for the agency which resulted in me being asked to leave the agency. After that experience, I was determined to complete my degree as I realized the effects that bias could have not only on young black professionals but also the black and brown people we as social workers serve. Needless to say I survived my college experience, completed my graduate degree and obtained my credential as a Licensed Clinical Social Worker (LCSW). This was no easy task considering supervision was something I had to beg for and literally seek out in group settings as opposed to regular one-to-one sessions.
Truth be told, I never received adequate supervision from white female supervisors. My questions were often misconstrued as attempts to challenge their agency and would often go unanswered or partially addressed if that. I would be seen as being “difficult” and “insubordinate” simply because I did not agree with their thinking or offered another solution to a complex problem. I would often times not be given adequate information to fulfill my role and I would get more pushback than I would genuine support. Many times I had to learn about what was going on in the agency through osmosis and heavy ear hustling as I would not be c’c’d in emails and would not be invited to various trainings or meetings where updated information was being disseminated. It was obvious that my presence was perceived as a threat and thereby something to be ostracized and destroyed.
This article would be remiss in its duty to inform if I did not speak about the support. As a black male social worker, I was never given adequate support or supervision. In reflecting on my internships and paid positions, my white female supervisors always appeared to handle me with spiked gloves. I was never provided with a learning environment that offered tenderness, compassion or reassurance. I was always handled hard and I realize that many of our black men in general are always handled with a rough touch and never given the tenderness one needs in order to thrive. My work spaces were no different as often times the way I was talked to was in a harsher tone. Handshakes by my white female supervisors were either touch and go or uncharacteristically rough as hell. I often did not feel safe enough to ask the questions I needed to ask to get the answers that would have better equipped me for this work. And even when I did work up the nerve to ask, I knew I was not getting comprehensive answers, just mere brush offs used to placate my inquisitive mind.
I will never forget the summer of 2020 and how the mass killings and state sanctioned murders of black men at the hands of police affected me. Professionally I felt lonely because as these events were taking place, my white female supervisors continued to go on business as usual. I remember bringing this up at team meetings and getting performative allyship while at the same time getting the sense that my feelings were an intrusion to their pristine ignorance. Bubbling below the surface, I got the sense that their bias became offended by my interrogation of whiteness and its effect on the safety of black men. They were unwilling to fully engage in difficult conversations on race and the ways in which white supremacy has adversely affected both white and black people. I can charge this to the collective trauma and fear of the pandemic as well as the discomfort associated with white guilt however as a black man, I did not feel supported which in turn impacted my ability to trust them with my feelings.
I realize that a lot of the reluctance to offer both professional support and adequate supervision stems from bias whether conscious or unconscious. It is based on skewed perceptions of blackness often perpetuated by the media and also family systems alike. It also is the result of lack of exposure to both black people and black culture as most of my white female supervisors have no experience dealing with black people. Many of them were raised in predominately white areas where black people were the exception not the rule. Their education was also biased as most white people were required to learn about themselves and their place in American history however they were never required to learn about and celebrate black history except through the lens of struggle. This lens has fed their cultural delusions of superiority and have made black people both the veterans of intergenerational suffering and also docile overly gracious beneficiaries of white generosity.
Because of these faulty and discriminate beliefs about black intelligence, skill and acumen many of my white female supervisors continue to wield their bias as a weapon. I cannot tell you how many times my expertise has been unduly challenged, intentionally overlooked and casually dismissed as a result of the bias of my white female supervisors. In their minds, my thinking is subpar and theirs superior. Of course they would never say this to me openly but it speaks through the voice of their behaviors. It shows up in cultural deafness and the ways in which they not only don’t listen but do not internalize the experience and expertise of black men and black people in general.
A lot of it also has to do with perceived threat and their own history as women in a patriarchal society. Many are afraid of having their own agency usurped by a male authority and in turn oppose any person, situation or institution that can infringe on their leadership or power. Thing about this is most of my white female supervisors, in trying to combat patriarchal systems of oppression they in turn begin to overidentify with such systems and perpetuate the same oppressions towards black men that they find problematic. They however are offered grace and seen as powerful despite being the unintended victims of Patriarchal/intersectional Stockholm syndrome.
As black male social workers, it’s clear- we are wildly underrepresented in the field. Negative perceptions about our race, gender, competence and abilities are ubiquitous to this field. In a profession that prides itself on equity, cultural humility and responsiveness, often times what we receive is inequity, cultural bias and cultural deafness within predominately white female work spaces. It is my hope that this article shed light on a rarely discussed topic and in turn inspire more black male leadership while also providing a framework through which white female social work supervisors can examine and reflect on in their work with black men.
