Working While Black: An Indictment on Being the Only Black at Work
I am a licensed clinical social worker. I work at a local mental health agency that serves those living with severe and persistent mental illness. I do good work here. My work is impactful, purposeful and very meaningful to me. I am the only black professional on a team of all white professionals. We serve a predominately black and brown demographic. Often times the clients we serve seem relieved to see another black face. For them it is comforting seeing someone who shares their same skin tone acting in a professional capacity as this gives them hope, something to aspire to in world that only praises and celebrates all things white. However being the only black professional on a team of all white professionals has its challenges and unlike my clients, I have not had the benefit of professional representation.
Being the only black social worker on a multidisciplinary team of all white psychiatrists, nurses, administrative staff and fellow social workers can be extremely challenging as I’ve noticed that often times my opinions have been the beneficiary of much scrutiny. Many times I have felt that my assessments on client functioning have been second-guessed, dismissed, undermined, disregarded and infantilized. The passive aggressive behavior of my co-workers has often times been so intolerable that I have had to excuse myself from the meeting table to regain my composure. Many times I have had to resist the urge to curse my co-workers out due to their insensitivity and outright disrespect. I realize that this table in which I fought so hard to get a seat at is inherently toxic and does not encourage and uplift the voices of black professionals. If anything this table continues to perpetuate the disease known as white supremacy while in the same breath purporting inclusivity and diversity as hallmarks of its practice.
During the pandemic, our team was informed by administration that we could work from home. In an effort to reduce the spread of the novel coronavirus, we were provided with laptops and smartphones that would allow us to do our jobs from the safety and comfort of our homes. Initially there was a part of me that was unsure as to how this would go because I never worked from home before so I was a little nervous about the transition. As I began to do it, I found that it was breeze. As time went on it was a relief being able to work from home in fact, it became the preferred method of service delivery for me. Aside from the mild anxiety caused by the uncertainty associated with COVID-19, being able to work from home afforded me a safe distance away from the burden of being the only black professional at work. I no longer had to smile and bear up under the cold austere gaze of white America. I no longer had to mask my burning contempt for my white co-workers.
I didn’t always feel like this. At first everything was ok. I was new, learning and getting my footing as a new professional. As I grew in my understanding of my agency and its lop-sided dynamics, I began to see some unhealthy patterns emerging. I noticed the paternalism of my white colleagues when interacting with black clients. I began to notice the enabling of clients due to implicit bias and race-based beliefs about client capacity. Then George Floyd was murdered. I was a mess. None of my co-workers said a thing. It was business as usual. At work I found myself cycling through a range of conflicting emotion. I went from feeling sad and depressed to angry and enraged in milliseconds. I did not understand why I was having such a visceral reaction hearing of his murder while my white colleagues walked around smiling and acting as though everything was ok. I unpacked these emotions with them during team meetings however it seemed that they just did not understand.
For some of them, prior to this job, they had no experience with how to engage with black life so black death never phased them. For many of them I was their first introduction to black people. After a brief melt down during one particular staff meeting, they held space and did everything they thought a “good ally” should do but it all seemed so contrived, so disingenuous, so well….clinical. At that moment I realized that they just did not understand. I mean how could they? White supremacy provided them with an invisible bubble that shielded them from the grief associated with black death. Being able to bury your head in the sand and pretend that race does not exist must be nice but that is not my reality or the reality of the clients in which we serve. It is in this exact moment I stopped trusting my white coworkers and began to develop my own shield, one that insulated me from their oblivious ignorance and cultural indifference. Their inability to lean into their own discomfort when discussing racially-charged issues made me question their authenticity as not only service providers but as people professing to care about black pain.
I realize that being the only black professional at work makes you a target. On one hand your ideas are seen as subpar and disregarded as such. On the other you are seen as a threat that must be contained. Your tone, your mannerisms, the way that you act, dress and wear your hair are all placed under a microscope and filtered under a white lens that measures your level of respectability by how well you assimilate your identity into the biased culture of the agency. You are watched closely and your skills are tested constantly. When you are too articulate, too knowledgeable, too affable, white coworkers see you as a threat and try to undermine your personal agency and authority at every turn and it is never blatant. It is always subtle and below the radar. For example, they will ask you your opinion on what to do about a client experiencing some concern. When you tell them what you would do, they do the exact opposite, kind of a way to insinuate that your judgement is off and that you are untrustworthy. Another example is they will ask you for information, then ask another white co-worker the same exact question almost to suggest that you are incompetent and that your knowledge base must be verified in order to be trusted. Such efforts to rail against your authority illustrate not only a gross distrust in your abilities but an implicit bias imprinted deep within the white perception.
If I am honest, there were many days I wanted to leave and never look back. The highways called my name and I just wanted to drive and forget about this place. I asked myself why there are so few black professionals in the field of social work compared to their white counterparts and I realized that most agencies although toting a mission statement that reflects inclusion and diversity, often times do not adhere to the values they purport. They literally beat the black out of the agency. Most black professionals opt to leave such agencies because they feel as though their identity is at risk of social extinction. Not having access to other black professionals who understand your culture, food, traditions, customs, music, vernacular without having to explain it ad nauseum ultimately takes its toll. The motivation to stay begins to dwindle and ultimately the black social worker begins to explore other opportunities whose space nurtures and supports a strong black identity.
As the world gradually opens up and becomes both overly caffeinated and successfully vaccinated, I am back in the office among my co-workers again. I can’t lie, the racial tension in the air is subtle yet thick. I walk a tight rope between being ok and wanting to scream every day. I write this essay as an indictment on being the only black at work as there should be efforts made to recruit and retain black and brown talent as an equitable measure. I am hoping that this is the first step in motivating a change however I am cautiously optimistic at this point.
