When Your White Bosses Are Just Not That Into You
You’re left behind.
I love challenges. When I was sending a short story to Creative nonfiction magazine’s Sunday short reads, I thought of writing a short story with a black narrator for This Precious Dark Skin readers. The total number of words in this story is 987. The challenge in short stories is with few words the story has to leave readers feeling satisfied and it has to be strong enough to stand alone.
I hope you love reading my short story as much as I loved writing it.
(Note: If you want to read this post on the web, click the headline When Your White Bosses…)
On the way to our boss’s office, my friend, Haddish, asked, Do you think we will get a promotion this year, Olou?
I hope so, I answered.
In the law firm we worked, we were the only two black women. We were lawyers who wanted to one day get a seat in a senior room. We had worked hard. 24/7. Year after year. For 10 years.
In Stuart’s (our white boss) office, we sat in front of him crossing our fingers on our laps.
Sorry, we’ve given this year’s promotion to James, he said. Last year another promotion was given to Julianna. The year before that another promotion was given to Mark.
Haddish said nothing. She just slumped in the chair. I had to say something, after 10 years of working hard, we deserve a seat at the table.
Sorry, but management does not think you can ‘fit in’ senior rooms.
His voice. Devoid of any emotion.
Tears blurred my eyes. Before I started crying in front of Stuart, I ran to the ladies’ room. Haddish followed in my footsteps.
On the way to the ladies’ room, Julianna saw us. She wanted to know if we were all right.
No, we are not all right, we wanted to say. But we didn’t say, we are not all right. We didn’t say, we’re left behind again. Julianna was a colleague we were close to. But she was a white woman. She wouldn’t understand what it’s like to watch your white peers progress ahead and you’re left behind.
Again.
And again.
Don’t give up. Both of you or at least one of you will get a promotion next year, she said.
You just have to show them how hardworking you are, Mark, who had been listening to our conversation, chimed in.
White colleagues. They do not know what it’s like when your white bosses are just not that into you. They do not know what it’s like when your black, female body leaves you in the dark as your white peers progress around and ahead of you.
When we were alone in the ladies’ room, I asked Haddish, You’re not giving up, are you?
No. You?
Never, but it’s getting more difficult to hope. It’s difficult to keep hoping my career would progress ahead when that hope seems out of reach every year, I answered.
I worked and worked and worked for years. What do I get? A white boss sitting on his comfy chair and telling me he doesn’t think I can “fit in” senior rooms. What does that even mean? Stuart didn’t even realize he was dimming the light in the room for his black employees.
Like Haddish, I had hoped I would progress ahead professionally this year. I had hoped, with my work ethic and my willingness to go the extra mile for my clients, that my white bosses would see what I could bring to the table, not the color of my skin.
Are you as exhausted as I am? Haddish asked me.
She was not talking about our demanding job. We both loved defending our clients. She was talking about the exhaustion we felt every time a white boss or a white colleague thinks you can’t do your job. Every time a white boss assumes your skills, your talents, and your competence are not (or cannot possibly be) as good as a white man’s or woman’s, exhaustion sweeps in, and tears flood your face like an onslaught of rain from the heavens.
You’ve proven your worth again and again, even though you don’t have to. Your years of experience should open doors for your career progression.
And yet.
You’re rejected because of the color of your skin.
You can tell your white bosses are just not that into you when they give networking, mentoring, and career progression opportunities to your white peers, but not to you.
You can tell your white bosses are just not that into you when they look right past you. As if you’re not even there. When they call the names of your white peers in team and annual meetings, but not yours.
You can tell your white bosses are just not that into you when you witness your white male colleagues saunter into the HR department and demand pay rises. When you demand the same thing, they give you this disturbing look that says, you should be grateful to have a job, to have walked in the building, and to work with white people.
You can tell your white bosses are just not that into you when your white female colleagues are encouraged to speak up. White women are celebrated for leaning in with confidence. But when you lean in, they tell you, you’re demanding.
How dare you ask for what you deserve?
You can tell your white bosses are just not that into you when you get this vibe that you’re supposed to be obedient.
And subservient.
After drying our tears, Haddish and I walked out of the ladies’ room. And out of the building. Our eyes on our boss’s office upstairs.
I don’t think we will ever get a promotion, Haddish said.
We were exhausted. We were frustrated. We were angry. We wanted to shout out to our white bosses, What about us!?
When are you going to realize black women are looking for the same career progression opportunities as our white peers?
We wanted to look them in the eye and make them confess their unconscious biases.
But we knew they will never, ever, admit their biases to us.
Unless they’re exceptional good white bosses.
But so far, Haddish and I have not met the good ones. The ones who see black women as assets in a company, not just as an afterthought. The ones who do not leave black women behind because of the color of our skin.
And now to my weekly round-up…
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The Unending Assault on Girlhood.
17 life-changing quotes from Dr. Maya Angelou.
A moving essay, If You Ever Find Yourself by Erika J. Simpson.
Black twitter is not a place. It’s a practice.
It’s Time to Rage by my favorite writer, Roxane Gay.
‘It strips your humanity’: former civil servant Olivea Ebanks awarded compensation after bringing legal proceedings over racism three times in 20 years.
VP Elect Kamala Harris Shares How Her Mother Made Her Into The Woman She Is Today.