Deconstructing The Bubble

“Human progress is neither automatic nor inevitable... Every step toward the goal of justice requires sacrifice, suffering, and struggle; the tireless exertions and passionate concern of dedicated individuals.” - Martin Luther King Jr.

My father grew up in Ethiopia but went to graduate school in the US. After completing his Ph.D in the seventies, he was offered opportunities to relocate permanently. But he returned back to his homeland to pursue a long career dedicated to educating Ethiopians, eventually becoming the first Science Faculty member to be recognized as a Professor in the country.

Entering The Bubble. When I was a child, my father spoke to me of his experiences in the US fondly and often professed his love for a country he called his second home. But he also shared with me some of his darker experiences so I did not grow up with the false impression that America was some enchanted land, absent any flaws. I remember him telling me about a time he attended a national convention and saw the stunned reaction from a highly educated and largely white crowd to a black student receiving a best dissertation award, even prompting someone next to my father to utter “Oh my God, he’s black!” I remember him telling me how he took to including his white Ph.D advisor’s name as a co-author in the papers he submitted for review long after he stopped working with him, only because he realized that the same paper was far more likely to get reviewed with a white sounding name on it. But he also appreciated all America had to offer and unequivocally believed that it was THE best place to send his children to college. And both my parents worked tirelessly for many years to make that happen.

Some 20 years later, I arrived in the US and immediately entered a bubble called MIT, making for a quiet and smooth landing for my black experience in a country with a checkered history with black people. Every so often, I escaped that bubble and got a terrifying glimpse of the world outside. One night in particular stands out in my mind. I remember dropping off a friend with two other Ethiopian friends and having a gun pulled on us by cops who thought we looked or acted suspicious. After self-identifying as an MIT student, I was told to put my hands on the car. As someone whose only other experience with law enforcement had been with the harmless cops on the streets of Addis, I almost committed suicide by cop that night trying to reach for my school ID. To this day, this probably remains one of my closest brushes with death. That incident also disabused me of the notion that being affiliated with a well established institution was going to make me any less threatening to the local cops. Looking back at that moment now, I can’t help but wonder if the police impulses that put me on the wrong end of that gun were in any way influenced by the color of my skin. But what is truly chilling is the thought that this is probably just an average day in the life of several other people who look just like me.

“A people that values its privileges above its principles soon loses both.” ― Dwight D. Eisenhower

Indulging In Privilege. Were it not for the handful of experiences I had when I stepped out of my bubble, I probably would have started believing that racism is no longer a real problem in America. Those moments have been important reminders of the advantages a good education has afforded me in overcoming the challenges I may have faced because of my skin color. That’s not to say the bubble itself has been without its own moments. I’ve experienced my fair share of racism, but I’ve developed coping mechanisms so it doesn’t detract from the pursuit of my goals. That has been partly because the magnitude of my problems generally seems to pale in comparison to what is happening in the outside world. But in part, it has also been because I was too concerned about rocking my bubble too hard.

Let us be clear about one thing. Discrimination is not a problem unique to America. I come from a place that has its own history with other forms of discrimination. You see, I come from an ethnic group that has dominated Ethiopian politics for centuries. And I still have people within my family who probably believe to this day that all ethnic groups were treated equally under those governments. But I know for a fact that is not the case because all you have to do is look at the disproportionately high number of elite from my ethnic group. But understanding this privilege is hard. You have to be willing to escape the bubble and openly embrace the other perspective to truly understand what privilege means.  

Let’s briefly go back to my father for another story on the subject of privilege. One day, I was sitting in a car with my father when he pointed to a little kid about my age, begging on the streets and asked me if I knew what separated the two of us. I already dreaded the imminent lecture but I still told him I didn’t. He then went on to tell me how the only difference between us was that I was the son of a Professor while he was likely the son of a beggar or possibly an orphan. Although sad, that seemed rather obvious and not particularly illuminating at the moment. But that story stuck with me for years, and it was only when I got older that I finally started to grasp the wisdom in my father’s story. You see, despite everything I did to put myself in a great position for a great education in the greatest education system in the world, my father was still wise enough to understand that the die was partially cast long before I was born. Now take that advantage and compound its effects over multiple generations. That is what privilege looks like. And that privilege is something many of us fail to realize, much less acknowledge and reflect on the advantages it has afforded us our entire lives.

“Silence becomes cowardice when occasion demands speaking out the whole truth and acting accordingly.” ― Mahatma Gandhi

Being Complicit. Although I have been blogging for years, it was not until last February that I finally published my first piece on my black experience. I always avoided that topic because I saw it as a conversation that would invariably end with some inconvenient truths about the ugly cracks in the fabric of society. That article was published only three months ago, but that now feels like a lifetime away. The last two weeks have had a massive impact on me and made me realize how I’m only being part of the problem by not speaking out more. Being black in America is uncomfortable. And any conversation about this uncomfortable topic is likely to make others uncomfortable too. But that’s what is needed because what kind of father would I be if I cannot even muster the courage to start uncomfortable conversations on matters that directly impact the future of my children?

Nearly four years ago, I was not quick enough in embracing the “Black Lives Matter” movement when Kaepernick was taking a knee. I was guilty of the same complicity that made others question if that was the right forum and the right message for making a stand. But much like how Kaepernick’s protests were never about the flag, this movement is less about devaluing non-black lives and more about standing up against the social injustices faced by black people in America everyday. This is not a question of whether or not all lives matter. All lives matter but they should also matter equally. And this moment belongs to some of the lives that don’t matter equally in America today. Dismissing it as just another element of a vague “all lives matter” movement (something that materialized only as a foil to BLM) is nothing but a deliberate whitewashing of an inconvenient truth that threatens to disrupt some people’s dated idea of an established world order. And this not only undermines the important conversations that need to happen but re-enforces exactly why these conversations need to happen in the first place.

“There can be no real peace without justice. And without resistance there will be no justice" - Arundhati Roy

Bursting The Bubble. I’m fortunate to be surrounded by so many allies, and the last two weeks have been a good reminder of why LinkedIn will always be a special place for me. It has been reassuring seeing my non-black colleagues coming out and taking a strong stand on this topic. I’ve always admired the lack of hesitation from our former CEO, Jeff Weiner, to speak up when necessary, and it has been invigorating to see his successor Ryan drawing a very clear line on the sand only days into his new role. But let me also be clear. I harbor no illusions about LinkedIn being perfect, and the recent town hall where some hurtful comments were shared by mostly anonymous employees is all the evidence you need for that. But in my humble opinion, what separates this company from the microcosm that is America is its unwavering commitment to standing on the right side of the issues and making a real effort to change. I have been surprised and inspired by the conversations I’ve had with colleagues, including my manager and his manager, both influential leaders who were unapologetic in their unconditional support for the cause and the need for change.  

And as a senior leader myself, I have personally witnessed and even participated in different efforts geared towards addressing diversity and closing the opportunity gap at LinkedIn. I was genuinely surprised when I heard that LinkedIn was sending 50 Director+ employees to AfroTech last November. It made me both proud and optimistic to hear that so many senior leaders across the company were invested. Similarly, I am encouraged every time I see an event or an initiative designed to help our black employees come together, sustain and excel in an industry where it is not uncommon for them to be the only one in the room. And yet, we are barely getting started and so much work still remains. But I’m still hopeful because I attend meetings and participate in conversations at a company that is, from the CEO down, committed to openly acknowledging the problem and using its considerable resources to find innovative ways to level the playing field. And it may not happen overnight, but where there is a will, there will always be a way.

“Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” ― Martin Luther King Jr.

The Aftermath. So what now? If you are black, you probably have heard from your non-black friends near and far over the last two weeks. And if you are not black, you hopefully have reached out to some of your black friends. As a black guy, this outpouring of support has been very comforting in these troubled times. And many have asked me how they can help so I will simply repeat what I have told them. I do not expect my friends and colleagues to run out and start looking for solutions because I don’t think that’s the most effective way to bring change. Lasting change happens organically so I think the most important thing you can do as an ally is to start by changing yourself and the people around you. Openly acknowledge your privilege. Make an effort to learn and understand the other side. If you have the resources to spare, whether it is time or money, find a way to support these disadvantaged communities. And perhaps most importantly, speak up especially when your black friends are not in the room. If you hear someone saying something derogatory towards black people, speak up. If you hear or see something that is unfair, speak up. Only cultural shifts on that scale are going to galvanize the masses and inspire the changes we seek. So let us make sure that the tragic deaths of Ahmad Aubrey, Breonna Taylor and George Floyd are not in vain. Let us instead use this moment as a referendum on how we want to shape the world, and let that transformation start with the easiest change of all: ourselves.

#blacklivesmatter #inittogether

I want to thank my father Ayenew Ejigou, Sara Daniel, Sabry Tozin, Yodit Daniel & Abiy Mesfin for being generous with their time and giving me helpful editorial feedback.