corporate america, watermelon, and me

It’s one thing to be black in America, where blacks are 13% of the population, and you actually see other black people on a regular basis. It’s an entirely different thing to be black in corporate America, where blacks make up less than 2% of all white-collar workers. In my case, that means being the ONLY black in my department for over six years. Although it sounds pretty awkward, you get focused, you do your job, and you adapt. But you never quite adapt to feeling like you’re the ambassador for the ENTIRE black race. More often than not, the pressure to put forth the best face for the race can lead you to frustration, confusion, and even and isolation,

“One ever feels his two-ness, an American, a Negro; two souls, two thoughts, two un-reconciled strivings; two warring ideals in one dark body, whose dogged strength alone keeps it from being torn asunder.- W. E. B. Du Bois

What do you do? You’re at a department meeting in a boardroom with 30 of your white co-workers. Lunch is wheeled in. The two choices? Roast beef, or fried chicken? If I was white, I’d simply eat what I had a taste for. But as the only black, suddenly, this isn’t a matter of taste, it’s a social statement. Do you shun the chicken, for the roast beef, or do you risk confirming some kind of stereotype by getting your finger licking grub on with the fried chicken? Eight years ago, every time when I found myself in these types of situations, this little voice in my head would start whispering. It’d say stuff like, “certain shit you just don’t do around white people”. And every single time, I’d get as far away from the chicken, or watermelon, or collard greens as I possibly could. But it wasn’t just about food. When asked questions about hip hop, that voice would whisper, “ohhh, so you have to like hip hop cause you’re black”? So I’d play dumb, like I had no idea what they were talking about. And when people walked up to me assuming I voted democrat, that voice would whisper, “so a black man can’t be up on all the candidates, just the democratic ones huh”? And I’d have to drop some knowledge about all the independents in the race. See, eight years ago, I had it all wrong. I was so worried about what other people thought about me. I was allowing the possibility of their pre-conceived notions about blacks, make me insecure. Eight years later, I’m totally different.

Today, luckily I’m not the only black in my department, (finally we have two more) but I’d be comfortable if I were. Why? Because I’ve come to grips with the fact that in corporate America, I AM an ambassador for black America. However, that doesn’t mean I have to carry all of black America’s burden. All I can do is be real, and put forth the best me I can. And if I do that, I think I’ll be repping my race to the fullest. I love to engage in discussions about race, and to educate ignorant people when I can. Besides, I love hip hop, so pictures of folks from Kool Herc to the Gza plaster my walls. And if I feel like eating a piece of chicken or watermelon, or whatever around my co-workers, I just do. What really put it all into perspective for me is this brotha who works here. He’s a janitor. He comes through the office late at night, and empties the trashcans. Brotha man has a jheri curl, wears lots of gold, and talks with a twang. But at the end of the day, that’s my brotha. And not for my white co-workers or anyone else would I ever shun that man, or that part of my black experience. Every time I see him, he greets me brotherly, and I always make time to talk to him as well, no matter who’s around. See, a lot of times, in an effort to put forth a good face for white people, blacks become extremely insecure about who we are. And that ain’t cool. Because in the end, we have to be comfortable with what black is, before we can try to show others, what black is not.