When I was in seminary, I worked in admissions. I was on a tour with a group of visitors when a woman in the group said loudly, “You’re so articulate.”
It was kind of embarrassing — I couldn’t help noticing she didn’t comment on the white colleague standing next to me. I think I said a brief “Thank you” and moved on.
But it has stuck with me. It was not just the implied racism of the fake compliment. It was also that it highlighted — once again — the continuous toll on the spirit that burdens Black workers in predominantly white work environments.
I grew up in rural Georgia, where my family’s church was burned down by the KKK; I understand that narrative of white power. I have two master’s degrees and am working on a Ph.D. as well as serving as a pastor and holding a full-time job. But still I am perceived as — or fear I am perceived as — someone who does not have a right to be in the workplace.
The current diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) backlash has deepened the pressure to prove themselves that Black people in predominantly white work environments have always felt. People in minority groups should not feel as though they constantly have something to prove, yet many do. The pressure to perform in front of those who think you do not deserve employment is incredibly demoralizing.
Think about the rhetoric in the last presidential election. Even when you’re the vice president of the United States of America, people say, “She’s a diversity hire!” Senators, Congress members, pundits and other commentators talked as if Kamala Harris hadn’t earned votes at local, state and federal levels.
The pressure to prove that you’re not “just a DEI hire” is unrelenting. People of color chuckle at jokes, share lunch conversations and gather in the break room, mindful of lowering the defenses of those around them. The comfort of others consistently plays a role in navigating the day, especially since people of color recognize that this may be their colleagues’ only interaction with people like them.
You hear the comment, “You’re not like the rest of them.” What a striking phrase! “Them?” The rappers? The trappers? My family members? The frightening Black stereotypes portrayed in the media?
With a smile and a slight laugh to ease the tension, you walk away realizing you have been placed in a box labeled “thing” instead of “human.” Meanwhile, the words of the poet Paul Laurence Dunbar resonate in your mind: “We wear the mask that grins and lies.”
Sadly, Christian institutions don’t always reflect Christlike values. I have spent nearly a decade working in predominantly white Christian spaces. Whether evangelical or liberal, sacred or secular, these environments aren’t always welcoming to people with mahogany skin.
The pressure to present oneself in a certain way to please others can be burdensome. What should I wear? Can I wear long, natural, curly, kinky hair? Should I choose a fade? Should I wear glasses or not? (I was once told glasses make you look more intelligent.)
They say to bring my whole self to the job but don’t truly mean it. Indeed, those in minority groups may wonder which “self” they are referring to. As comedian Corporate Erin (Lisa Beasley) puts it, “The company tells you who your whole self is.”
It’s even more uncomfortable when you realize that though white Christian institutions often value featuring people of color in their literature or promotional materials, it is uncommon to see people of color in decision-making positions within these institutions.
We hear the implicit message: “We are a community of faith serving a God of all races and nationalities. Come and be part of this picture that we will send to our donors to raise more funds for our endowment.” Or, “Your singing is impressive. Please lead us in worship, and we will showcase you on our websites and social media.”
As scholar Oneya Fennell Okuwobi says, often institutional diversity is used as a commodity, wherein people of color are included for the benefit of white people.
For these organizations to truly uphold their creeds, mission statements and values, they need to engage in a comprehensive exploration of the necessity for transformation. The imago Dei is often not acknowledged, even in liberal white Christian institutions, unless the individual conforms to the system’s rules.
The Massachusetts Council of Churches, where I work, is making strides to embrace cultural diversity after receiving funds from Lilly Endowment Inc. to support preaching by Black preachers.
Staff and members of the council have participated in several challenging conversations centered on whiteness and Black authenticity. This work is not easy, but it is transformative.
In pre-COVID days, I decided to go to work one day despite the fact that I had a cold and felt terrible. All I could think was, “I’ve gotta show up.” I drove down to Boston, then got on the train for a 30-minute ride to a meeting in the office.
My boss, the executive director, noticed and asked whether I was feeling all right. No, I acknowledged.
“Why don’t you go home?” she said.
“I’m not at my best, but I’m working through it,” I said.
“Why don’t you take a day?” she said again.
My response was, “I don’t want you to think I’m lazy, because as a Black person, I have to combat that narrative.”
She seemed surprised. “Oh, Kenneth, I know you’re a hard worker. I wouldn’t think that of you,” she said.
I packed up my stuff and took the train and the car back home, where I could rest.
And I realized that was the first time I had felt comfortable saying in the workplace the reality of what it means to be Black in America. It was liberating to voice my feelings and share without fear of repercussions.
This is important for people of color, but also for the businesses, schools, churches and other institutions in which they work. The dominant perspective should not be solely from white culture. A multi-lens approach will be advantageous, fostering organizational effectiveness and problem solving, as well as psychological safety.
It’s painful to realize that institutions claiming to set the captives free may in fact be holding people hostage. Yet white Christian institutions can become places of safety when they engage in the challenging work of dismantling the system of oppression.
