I was returning a tub of supplies to a lady who is the director of a physics camp where the Scholars from my college readiness program were attending.
I drove up, handed them off to her and we started chatting. While chatting, another girl came up to return her supplies. In the era of COVID, I backed away and stood by my car. The teenager walked up and handed her tub to my friend. Her mom drove up and stopped beside my car. “Thank you for doing this camp!” she hollered out the window to me. I looked around, thinking she was talking to my friend, who was further up and was actually taking the tubs and talking with the girls. Nope. She was talking to me.
*sigh*
Of course she was. I’m White. My friend is Black. She assumed I was leading the camp. It happens all of the time. I get mistaken for the person in charge. All. Of. The. Time. By White people, by Black people; it doesn’t matter.
I have been at all Black events (like my husband’s cousin’s wedding) and someone asked me where they needed to go for the reception after the wedding. I have been at a national conference where someone wanted direction on where to place the food. I’ve tried to write it off as my personality or some vibe I give off. Maybe I just appear to know what I’m doing. But what I’ve come to notice is that it really doesn’t matter what venue I’m in or what I’m doing. It doesn’t even matter what I’m wearing (I rarely wear even a blazer to make me look professional). People automatically assume that I am in charge...because I’m White.
In my own passive-aggressive way, I have started looking at them like, “Why would I be in charge?” and shrug like, “Why would I know what you are supposed to be doing?” even though I know exactly what’s happening.
On the flip side of that, though, I do it, too. Last year I went to the grocery store early one morning when they were stocking the shelves. A man, probably in his late 40s, early 50s, was squatted down and had a black, windbreaker type jacket that seemed like something an early-morning worker on a cold day might wear (Don’t ask me why that’s what I assume early morning stockers wear...because I truly don’t know). I assumed he was stocking the shelves. “Excuse me...could you tell me where I could find…” I asked. He looked at me much like I look at people who ask me if I’m in charge and said, “I’m sorry, I don’t.” It took me a second to figure out why he wouldn’t know where something was in the store and then I realized...he didn’t work there! He was simply a Black man in the store getting groceries early in the morning, just like me. I was embarrassed, but there was nothing I could do. The damage had already been done.
I want to write it off as harmless...as a simple mistake anyone could have made. But it’s not a simple mistake. It reinforces a power structure where White people are expected to be in charge and people of color are expected to be subservient. And it happens all of the time. I’ve heard Black and Hispanic friends talk about it. No matter where they are, they are assumed to be a worker (even if they have a doctorate and are running a program...like my friend with the physics camp). No one has ever mistaken me for a worker. Ever. Always a boss.
Reinforcing the power structure impacts our psyche. When people assume I’m a boss, I start acting like a boss; when people assume I’m there to serve them, I either succumb to their expectations or become frustrated trying to convince them otherwise.
I know I have to actively work against my biases because my biases impact my actions. Before I say, “Excuse me,” and try to ask for help, I have had to intentionally start looking for a name tag or some kind of identification that shows me they work there...and even if I am convinced they work there, if I don’t see it, I don’t ask.
I know I never intend to do harm...and I think people of color often give me a pass (more often than I deserve). However, being dismissive by saying, “I didn’t mean anything by it,” feels like I’m using my own measuring stick to decide whether or not I’m hurting or harming someone else...and that doesn’t seem fair. If I’m determining whether someone is hurt by my actions, it seems like I should be using a measuring stick they create, not one I do.
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