Undervalued. Unappreciated. Mistreated. Misunderstood. Inadequate. Tolerated (Barely). Lonely. Exiled. The list of demeaning words goes on and on.
This myriad of emotions is like dead-weight, molding on the shoulders of countless black women. This mold has materialized. It is toxic and long-lasting.
I know I won't be the first or the last to reflect on this topic. And so my window is slightly open, just enough for us to feel a breeze of injustice.
After completing my first year as an 8th Grade English teacher in Mississippi, I came home to Brooklyn to spend quality time with my friends and family who I missed so dearly. One of the beauties of teaching is that you have the option of taking the summer off to unwind and regroup from the previous school year. My transition from a college graduate to a Teach For America 2017 Corps Member was so quick (4 days!), that I did not have the time to process with my family the amazing accomplishments my brother, sister, and I achieved. The Williams’ triplets graduated from college! (yass clap it up!).
This summer, I looked forward to walking around my Brooklyn neighborhood, to noticing the changes and the constant parts. The same concrete sidewalks, houses, and faces on the block, of what influenced my formative years, and to observing the daily morning routines of my family members as they went to work and I did not.
It’s 21st century New York City, and for the first time, the triplets are leaving our home to go to our respective workplaces. At the end of the work day, we would bond, confide in one another and discuss all the different things that happened to us in the office. This reflection time made me keenly aware of what we’ve come to represent— the novice and seasoned black professional in America today. And yet, for such a generational gap (more than 30 years difference), I am still perplexed, appalled, and angry that at certain times, I cannot differentiate my mother's experiences from my sister’s. However, I can with my brother. In corporate America, black men are treated differently than black women. A case in point, my brother works at the sister company, and he absolutely loves his job. Largely, because of the unparalleled treatment and support he has received. He can be himself. He can be the cool guy, the handsome guy, and the intellectual guy, because the way he is allowed to perform his blackness and gender are held to a different set of expectations than black women. Never once did I hear him describe the dead-weight mentioned above. Within my own family I recognize this clearly.
Were not places of employment for black women to get better? Or did we simply fulfill diversity quotas? Where is the emotional labor it takes to acknowledge people as fully human?
What struck me was that in our conversations about our work lives, I realized that I also endured similar mistreatment. A trauma that messed with the delicate balance of our emotional sanity and dignity. We all have been micromanaged from bosses who treated us as if we were disposable, rather than indispensable. We have been overlooked (did I say OVERLOOKED?), belittled, discredited for our merit, and repeatedly passed over like the Flip Cup song from “Pitch Perfect.” Perhaps the worst, made to feel invisible. And being invisible must be a double edged sword. On one hand, you are literally conscious of your invisibility in your work environment, and on the other hand, your invisibility and tenacity strengthen your ability to handle any storm.
So as my mother, sister, and I sat in our healing circle, grieving our collective dissatisfaction, asking God for discernment, and most of all, peace, I danced with this question in my head: Why are my sister and I, novices to the workplace, and my mother, a seasoned professional with 26 years of expertise, subjected to the same injustice?
Undervalued. Unappreciated. Mistreated. Misunderstood. Inadequate. Tolerated (Barely). Lonely. Exiled.
It's a lot to think about...and a lot to unpack.
However, some things are certain:
We navigate the trenches of our workplace environments, remaining resilient, skillfully code-switching, and using our excellence and creativity to make our place of employment conducive to our livelihood.
That's why when a black woman speaks, you must listen. Our empowerment cannot be shutdown.
So hold on sister, do not quit.
All men continue to support us.
Keep a healthy mindset.
Show that you cannot easily be moved.
You will not be tossed like the waves of the sea.
No weapons formed against you shall prosper.
Everything attached to you will win.
Find your daily joy.
God loves and is love.
He is always, always, always in control.
This myriad of emotions is like dead-weight, molding on the shoulders of countless black women. This mold has materialized. It is toxic and long-lasting.
I know I won't be the first or the last to reflect on this topic. And so my window is slightly open, just enough for us to feel a breeze of injustice.
After completing my first year as an 8th Grade English teacher in Mississippi, I came home to Brooklyn to spend quality time with my friends and family who I missed so dearly. One of the beauties of teaching is that you have the option of taking the summer off to unwind and regroup from the previous school year. My transition from a college graduate to a Teach For America 2017 Corps Member was so quick (4 days!), that I did not have the time to process with my family the amazing accomplishments my brother, sister, and I achieved. The Williams’ triplets graduated from college! (yass clap it up!).
This summer, I looked forward to walking around my Brooklyn neighborhood, to noticing the changes and the constant parts. The same concrete sidewalks, houses, and faces on the block, of what influenced my formative years, and to observing the daily morning routines of my family members as they went to work and I did not.
It’s 21st century New York City, and for the first time, the triplets are leaving our home to go to our respective workplaces. At the end of the work day, we would bond, confide in one another and discuss all the different things that happened to us in the office. This reflection time made me keenly aware of what we’ve come to represent— the novice and seasoned black professional in America today. And yet, for such a generational gap (more than 30 years difference), I am still perplexed, appalled, and angry that at certain times, I cannot differentiate my mother's experiences from my sister’s. However, I can with my brother. In corporate America, black men are treated differently than black women. A case in point, my brother works at the sister company, and he absolutely loves his job. Largely, because of the unparalleled treatment and support he has received. He can be himself. He can be the cool guy, the handsome guy, and the intellectual guy, because the way he is allowed to perform his blackness and gender are held to a different set of expectations than black women. Never once did I hear him describe the dead-weight mentioned above. Within my own family I recognize this clearly.
Were not places of employment for black women to get better? Or did we simply fulfill diversity quotas? Where is the emotional labor it takes to acknowledge people as fully human?
What struck me was that in our conversations about our work lives, I realized that I also endured similar mistreatment. A trauma that messed with the delicate balance of our emotional sanity and dignity. We all have been micromanaged from bosses who treated us as if we were disposable, rather than indispensable. We have been overlooked (did I say OVERLOOKED?), belittled, discredited for our merit, and repeatedly passed over like the Flip Cup song from “Pitch Perfect.” Perhaps the worst, made to feel invisible. And being invisible must be a double edged sword. On one hand, you are literally conscious of your invisibility in your work environment, and on the other hand, your invisibility and tenacity strengthen your ability to handle any storm.
So as my mother, sister, and I sat in our healing circle, grieving our collective dissatisfaction, asking God for discernment, and most of all, peace, I danced with this question in my head: Why are my sister and I, novices to the workplace, and my mother, a seasoned professional with 26 years of expertise, subjected to the same injustice?
Undervalued. Unappreciated. Mistreated. Misunderstood. Inadequate. Tolerated (Barely). Lonely. Exiled.
It's a lot to think about...and a lot to unpack.
However, some things are certain:
We navigate the trenches of our workplace environments, remaining resilient, skillfully code-switching, and using our excellence and creativity to make our place of employment conducive to our livelihood.
That's why when a black woman speaks, you must listen. Our empowerment cannot be shutdown.
So hold on sister, do not quit.
All men continue to support us.
Keep a healthy mindset.
Show that you cannot easily be moved.
You will not be tossed like the waves of the sea.
No weapons formed against you shall prosper.
Everything attached to you will win.
Find your daily joy.
God loves and is love.
He is always, always, always in control.