Who's "Professional" Anyway?

A few months ago, I hosted a panel discussion through LinkedIn Live with a couple of my colleagues titled "Black Women: Professionalism, Respectability, and Engagement," where Bridget Love, EdD , Melody Hudson, MBA , and I shared personal and professional stories of navigating the workplace and respectability politics. In this discussion, we came to the point of recognizing the oppressive nature of the traditional workplace and the necessity for developing tools to not only survive but thrive in the work that we choose.

Click the link below to watch the discussion:

After this conversation, I continued to ruminate on the concept of "professionalism." The Oxford English Dictionary defines professional as "Of, belonging to, or proper to a profession. Relating to, connected with, or befitting a (particular) professional or calling; preliminary or necessary..." The word "professional" stems from the Latin profes meaning "to profess"--to declare or affirm.

With this definition in mind, I've been grappling with the following question: Who gets to decide what is (or isn't) professional? Who are those deemed to be professional?

Over the span of my career, I've faced the notion of "professionalism" as a prescription according to personal perspectives. What's "proper to a profession" has shifted based upon the feelings of the moment and who's making the rules. Professionalism has been utilized to dictate standards for dress, language and tone, and affect--more than behaviors and actions that would represent the particular skills or qualities of a profession. Rooted in such nuance and context, the reality of professionalism for me is that it is steeped in bias and supremacy.

As a Black woman, I've contended with professionalism ladened in misogynoir. My hair, makeup and skin tone, speech and vernacular, clothing and jewelry, outside of work activities, religious affiliations, employment history, colleges attended, and relationships have all been questioned under the guise of adding to or taking away from my status as a "professional." There is a particular inquiry about the ability for my Black womanness to be deserving of or to navigate these facets of identity in a palatable way.

"How do you get your hair like that? ... Can I touch it?"

"Wow, your hair was different yesterday."

"Why are you wearing that sweatshirts [which says "ALASKA"]? You've never been there before."

[When wearing a black sweater and bottom with a green scarf, covered from head to toe.] "Dressing like that is provocative. You're drawing the wrong kind of attention [motioning towards my breasts]."

"If you want to get promoted one day, you have to start looking the part. No one looks like that here." [Reference the predominately white organization with only three Black employees, at the time.]

[After asking about the origins and purpose of a process that has not been working.] "I would never question my boss. That would be so unprofessional."

Them: [After reviewing my CV and conducting an interview where I shared my qualifications.] "We're looking for someone with more experience, like a master's degree in counseling."

Me: "I have 12 years of relevant experience and a master's degree in counseling. And a doctorate in education."

Them: "Oh, I didn't know that. Well, we're looking for someone who's more of a fit."

Almost All-white Team: [When announcing the white man hired] "We're so glad we've got 'one of us' as the new leader for our program!"

And this list of microaggressions, -insults, and -assaults could go on.

I've heard, experienced, and witnessed some pretty egregious things in the workplace that position professionalism as the anchor and western, Eurocentric characteristics as the shank. This is why a policy such as the Crown Act is so important because it acknowledges and combats discrimination that specifically targets cultural expressions in workplace, and disproportionately impacts Black people. But, there is still more work to do.

Professionalism, alongside respectability, has been weaponized to demean and exclude marginalized communities, Black women professionals, specifically. This is evidenced in the portrayal of Black women in mainstream media, political commentary, and daily discourse. Consider the 2023 kerfuffle between Angel Reese and Caitlin Clark , in which Reese celebrated a play with a hand gesture much in the same way as had Clark. However, there was a media firestorm about Reese's (a Black woman) unprofessional behavior and conduct unbecoming. There are countless other Black women whose professionalism and qualifications have been scruitinized simply for existing as excellent such Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson, Pulitzer Prize winner Nikole Hannah-Jones, and former Harvard President Claudine Gray. And, woefully, some have succumbed under the weight and outcome of the white gaze.

Misogynoir is literally killing us!

With a Black and South Asian woman running for president, it is abundantly clear that contempt for Black women is fodder for political grandstanding.

Ruminating in my mind as I move in and out of spaces is how that can be done while honoring the humanity (and cultural expressions) of people. I don't believe this comes at a cost to professionalism, but supports the enrichment of professions by exposing people developmental opportunities, innovation, and empathy. Rethinking what constitutes professionalism can open the door for discussions and actions that unveil and disrupt bias, discrimination, and oppressions in the workplace.

Just a thought.