Suits and Skins: What I've Learned from Dealing with Bias in the Workplace

Lately I’ve been asked to speak to the concept of diversity and inclusion in the workplace quite a bit.

Truth is, I’ve been a brown woman for a lot longer than it’s been in fashion to ask one of us what we think, and because of this, I’ve experienced the full range of emotions that come with knowing what I have to offer and yet never being completely sure that my gifts will be enough. This is not because I don’t believe in myself but because I’m aware that others may hold biases that cloud their ability to really see me.

I’m a hard worker and I’ve been lucky. In fact, I’ve enjoyed a somewhat meteoric career. As the years have progressed, I’ve steadily and sometimes painfully acquired the skills and judgment that accompany professional experience.

I’ve acquired a lot of intangible insights too. The unsolicited lessons about what I can and should accept from people in work and in life. Clarity about what I have an obligation to confront with either a sincere interest in understanding or a courageous commitment to stand firm. The wisdom to decipher which reaction is required for a given situation.

And no, not every micro-aggression or dumb remark requires a full scale revolt complete with heads on spikes. It’s an undeniable truth that people of color often find themselves unwittingly occupying the role of “cultural educator." It’s unfair, but it’s also (more often than not) an opportunity.

Take, for example, the moment when the outstretched hand of a white colleague approaches a woman of color’s natural hair- hell bent on stroking its full and unprocessed glory because “it’s so WILD!”

While annoying and childishly rude, the intention behind this infraction isn’t typically malicious. Moments like these require us to deliver a kind but firm lesson about the “rules of cultural engagement." We educate, not to preserve our own feelings, but instead to help the unintentional perpetrator avoid making the same mistake in the future by opening their eyes to the implications of such a gesture.

On the other hand, if that same woman of color is called in to the boss’s office because her hair is not “meeting the standards of a groomed and professional appearance”…well, now we’ve got a fight on our hands. We fight because institutionalized bigotry is crafty and insidious, it’s often dressed up as “the rules." We fight because women shouldn’t be expected to invest time, effort and money to fit a European standard of “professional appearance” that may come naturally for others simply because they happen to be white.

We take the risk of pushing back because there’s no other way to move forward.

I’ve faced these hurdles more times than I can articulate in these few paragraphs. They haven’t always been life altering and momentous events, though I have more than a few scars from the breathtaking moments of overt discrimination I’ve barreled through over the years. In reality though, it’s the almost imperceptible emotional assaults that slowly erode our self-belief.

We don’t always feel the cut until it starts to bleed.

So, as with any other uncontrollable situation, I’ve learned to cope. Facing bias is and will always be a fact of life. As a result, I’ve developed and refined a set of behavioral principles that I live by. These aren’t practices I adopted from a book, they’re the lessons I’ve held on to long after the battle wounds I’ve sustained along my journey have healed.

They’ve made me a better leader, a better mentor and they’ve enabled me to hold others to account.

If you see it, name it. If you feel it, fight it.

No one forgets the first time they’re discriminated against or marginalized because of their inherent characteristics.

The first time I felt the sting of overt bigotry, I was a 16 year old high school student with excellent grades and a sassy mouth. I was always on notice for one reason or another, usually because I viewed the last word as a prize to be won in any verbal match and authority figures weren’t off limits. One fateful day I pushed a teacher too far, and though his anger was warranted, it exposed his ugly true colors. In front of my classmates, in a tone so full of hate that it shocked me into complete stillness, he said “you’re all the same, and you’ll amount to nothing just like the rest of you people, you’re probably pregnant already."

The acute rush of emotions one experiences when on the receiving end of a bigoted attack is unexpected. While you’d think the first flush of feeling would be rooted in anger, it’s not. It’s surprise. It’s always surprising, even when it shouldn’t be. I believe this is because we are all innately aware of our common ground, our shared humanity. When our race, gender, ethnicity or sexual orientation is used as weapon against us, it’s akin to being reassigned to a different, lesser species. Something other than human. After surprise comes the pain and after the pain, the rage sets in.

My first conscious thought was “Ohhhhhh, wait ‘til I tell my dad what you just said!” My next thought was “I’ll show him."

And I did.

So, when it happened again early in my career, a career that I’d worked so hard to be qualified for, it was especially crushing. I was consumed by the question…when is what I’m capable of going to be enough to overshadow what I am?

I was in my early twenties, young for an executive, and I was thrilled to be included on a trip to Nashville to attend a conference with the senior executives of the organization I worked for. I had had that talk most young women find themselves having with their mother about safety. The one where we’re implored to “be smart” and to remember that “these environments invite the unwanted attention of men." I had met up with a friend and colleague when I arrived and we made the conscious decision to avoid alcohol in mixed company.

On the opening night of the event, I was standing at the bar after having grabbed a ginger ale for my friend and myself. I had a glass in each hand when an executive I worked with but barely knew approached me with a look of disgust on his face. He appeared to have had a little too much to drink himself but that didn’t stop him from saying “Hmm, it figures. Just like a Puerto Rican to be double fisted. I know about you people, I’ve seen you people in action before. Never know when to put down the rum.” And as he turned to walk away he mumbled “Make sure you wake up in your own bed in the morning.”

I stewed and agonized about it for the entire trip. I knew what had happened to me was wrong, but I didn’t want to rock the boat or be viewed as a “squeaky wheel." After all, I’d only just been promoted to a new and exciting role and if our CEO didn’t think I could “hang with the big boys” my future opportunities would be impaired. Still, I couldn’t let it go. In my inexperience, I chose to confront him. Alone. After work, when it was just he and I in the office. Bad decision.

He had the predictable reaction. There were no apologies, no admissions of fault. There were reminders that he had all the leverage in the situation because of his long standing relationship with the boss. He even threw out the old stand-by justification, sharing that he “can’t be a racist, my granddaughter is black!” while showing me her faded image on a chipped mug he drank his coffee from. Worse than this though, he ultimately outplayed me. By the time I found the courage to address the situation with our CEO, he had already been primed by the version of events shared much earlier by the perpetrator.

In the end, I was told that I would need to get a thicker skin and learn how to take a joke if I wanted to succeed.

More than a decade later, in another place and phase in my career, I walked into my office one morning to find one of my employees waiting for me. She was a young and very talented black woman with whom I’d cultivated a trusting professional relationship.

I knew something had happened the moment I laid eyes on her. She looked like she hadn’t slept and she seemed skittish and uncomfortable about being seen speaking with me, even though I was her direct supervisor.

Over the next few minutes, she shared the details of the incident she’d experienced the day before.

The COO of the organization, a large and imposing man with a gruff attitude that intimidated even the most seasoned professionals, confronted her about making a request for a short turn around on marketing materials that she needed sooner than later. He’d told her that he was tired of her trying to use her sexuality to get what she wanted from the men on staff.

He’d accused her of batting her eyes, sticking out her chest and using a “cute” tone when speaking to men the she was trying to “manipulate." To drive his point home, he stood towering over her and said “I’ve seen your type before and it’s not going to work on me.”

Now, it must be said that this accusation is inappropriate under any circumstance, but let me just say clearly…this made absolutely no sense for this particular young woman. She was the consummate professional, always courteous but formal in her interactions. Some might even go so far as to call her “conservative” and “reserved."

No, this wasn’t about her behavior, this was about being a woman of color in a workplace directed by a bigot.

This time, I knew what was necessary. His behavior must be named, and it must be done with an audience. Most importantly, she needed me to believe her and back her up-as a woman and as a professional.

It was harder than it should have been, but we didn’t let him tell the story first and we didn’t let him justify his behavior. We gave him the opportunity to own his conduct in full view of the powers that be. We were met with unexpected resistance. She and I were both expecting our CEO, a woman, to immediately see the wrong and act accordingly. Instead, I was asked why I didn’t first try to speak with him to resolve the issue quietly without drawing undue attention to the situation. I was even told I had “neglected to honor the trust of a colleague” by blowing the war horn before giving him a chance to explain and repair the damage he unwittingly caused with his careless words and actions. 

But no, we didn’t back down. We were right and we knew it. We named what we felt and we fought until the arguments against what was true simply faltered and failed. The moral and legal advantage was on her side, and to defend him further was to put the organization in jeopardy.

You see, what he wanted was to put her in her place. When she wouldn’t go quietly, he hit her with something so painful and scary it was supposed to knock her off balance.

But she didn’t go down because she made sure she had someone around her to hold her up. It was my responsibility to be that someone, anything less would have made me complicit.

The incidents in our lives don’t have to be anywhere near as serious as these to cause us pain, and when they do, the principle still applies. When you’re cut off in a meeting in the middle of a thought by a colleague who can’t seem to hear female voices, when your colleague refers to your ethnicity, religion or culture as “you people," when you’re constantly expected to work late to cover for others because you’re the “childless” one and therefore you’re expected to carry the heavy load.

Name it. Put the responsibility of owning the bias squarely back on the shoulders of the ones who are personally responsible and professionally obligated to do better.

Your experience informs your perspective, and your perspective is a valuable business asset.

Sometimes, being a “minority” (full disclosure: I hate that term) in the workplace positions you to be the super hero who saves the day. Take, for example, the time when our marketing department had produced a series of 70’s themed promotional posters for an upcoming event. They had chosen to edit a handful of photos of local donors, most of whom were black, to look a whole lot like pimps and prostitutes.

Let that sink in.

In the 11th hour, I happened to see boxes of these glossy posters rolling by on a cart. I grabbed two and swiftly made my way to our CEO’s office. It didn’t take long for leadership to see the wisdom in the insight I shared. In all honesty, the potential implications of this culturally insensitive foolishness hadn’t even occurred to a single person on the marketing team.

Why do you suppose that happened?

See, we all bring something important to our roles that extends way beyond the technical knowledge we gain in school or the skill we acquire on the job. We bring a world view shaped by where we come from, what we’ve seen and even the very bodies we occupy.

Smart businesses and even smarter business leaders understand this intangible element of our human resource to be an asset to the brand, advantageous for shaping the customer experience and essential for the preservation of the corporate reputation.

I mean, one look at the recent Starbucks story reminds us that one empowered person of color behind that counter may have helped avoid the unwanted notoriety they’re now fumbling through.

It’s important to begin viewing your whole self as a contribution to your team. For example, a woman who endures a pregnancy in an inflexible, unsupportive professional atmosphere is better prepared to speak to what it would take to make the place a more attractive environment for future employees. After all, what do you have to lose? If the leadership doesn’t care, are you where you belong?

Additionally, make room for people at every level of the organization to express a view that could shape a direction based on their valuable and relevant perspective.

If you happen to be a leader now, think about the business decisions you’re empowered to make. Who’s shaping those decisions? Have a varied and diverse set of insights been considered? How much richer could the outcome of the decision be if refined by the views of others?

In my work, it can be pretty easy to get a group of well-meaning social workers in a room to dream up programs that we think people who are struggling likely need. But we don’t do that. Instead, we ask the opinions of those seeking a better grasp on stability as well as those who spend each day working to solve problems, one person at a time. Inevitably, we build something much more robust and effective than it otherwise would have been.

We are more than a resume.

I shared previously in this article that early in my career I began to wonder when what I’m capable of was going to be enough to overshadow what I am. Over time, I’ve come to realize that what I am offers a depth to my capacity that I could have never earned or learned in school. What I am is indistinguishable from what I’m capable of, and that’s true for you too.

Stand in your skin knowing it’s as much of a qualification as anything you’ve ever framed and hung on a wall. Be your own version of bold. Offer your best ideas rooted in your most formative experiences.

And when you can, protect those who haven’t yet harnessed their voices.