Black folks survived slavery, Jim Crow and 100 years of lynching by wearing a mask that hid their true identity and true
feelings.
Every now and then, their suppressed rage would build... and build...
and build... to the point that it eventually boiled over.
The Nat Turner uprising in 1831.
The Detroit riots in 67.
The Watts riots in 68.
The Liberty Heights riots in 80.
The LA riots in 92.
Ferguson in 2014.
All over the world in 2020.
Today, I'm sharing an essay that was written by a black woman who works in Corporate America.
She's worn the mask her entire
career.
But the problem with wearing the mask is this. Over time, you undergo a metamorphosis.
Your face changes to fit the
mask.
It changes who you are.
It's how cops can become mean, cynical and embittered. It's how politicians can become so corrupt. It's how black people can end up downplaying, or hiding, their true selves.
Is that what you wanted when you set out to scale the corporate mountain?
Is that the bargain you intended to make?
Think about it.
Anywho, the name of the essay is... I Can't
Speak.
Read, ponder... and go make a ruckus.
Brian
I Can’t Speak – A Look at the Real African American Experience in Corporate America
By Dawn Moore
Certified Process Professional, Certified RPA Business Analyst, Certified BOT Developer
Having worked in corporate America for over 35 years and for a variety of organizations, I have seen and experienced a lot. I have had some really good experiences and yes, I have also had some terrible ones. I have had to work harder for less, prove more than the next, come in earlier, leave later
and all the while still fighting against things that can’t be proven or tangibly measured.
Don’t get me wrong, those exercises created resiliency within me because being resilient is a requirement for many like me within the halls of corporate America. And this resilience has helped me and many others to acquire a skill set that allows us to crank out strategies and proposals in half the time
that it would require others to do the same.
But this is no badge of honor. It is almost like saying that the man or woman forced to pick cotton pricked their hands and because they pricked their hands, they developed calluses on their hands and therefore could pick more cotton, faster because it no longer hurt. Going to work, having and
maintaining a career after years of education, hard work and sacrifice shouldn’t hurt.
“It just is what it is” is a phrase that many of my African American colleagues have uttered over the span on my career. It just is – a way of life for a majority of African American men and women across this county. It just is – a way of life, of existing, of surviving. It just is – the price
we often pay to feed our families. It just is what it is.
While the battle cry of the hour is “I can’t breathe” the sentiments of many African Americans within corporate American is “I can’t speak”. We can’t speak because speaking means we are being aggressive or problematic. We can’t speak because speaking, as an African American male means we are intimidating or threatening; we can’t speak as African American women because speaking means we are the typical
“angry black female.”
We can’t speak because speaking means retaliation for what we have said at the end of the year when we are being “rated for our performance” and those ratings are a tool that are often used to punish people like us for speaking.
Speak at your own risk! The risk of being denied promotions and blacklisted.
Speak at your own risk! The risk of being denied a raise with little justification.
Speak at your own risk! The risk of being accused of being insubordinate.
Speak at your own risk! The risk of having your compensation altered.
Speak at your own risk! The risk of being made an example of so that others will remain silent.
And after a while, one of two things happen: You stop speaking completely or you fade into the background until someone feels that you’ve been whipped enough and now you may be worthy of a 1% raise because you’ve learned your proverbial lesson.
But there is another option: Keep speaking.
Keep speaking until you are heard even if you only hear it yourself.
Keep speaking until you speak those things that be not as though they were.
Keep speaking until the sound of your own voice awakens the knowledge inside of you that you are better than this.
Keep speaking until you hear the melodic sound of personal confidence and conviction.
Keep speaking until you convince yourself that you are not who they say you are.
Keep speaking until you believe that you are more than a conqueror.
Keep speaking until you believe that no weapon formed against you shall prosper.
Keep speaking until you speak life into yourself and you inhale the seeds of success and exhale your own business.
Keep speaking until your voice joins with another voice that joins with other voices until there are so many voices that those voices form a choir that the whole world hears.
Keep speaking because your career matters, your words matter, black voices matter.
You matter.
Note: Though many Corporations across this country have implemented Diversity and Inclusion programs, often these programs are viewed by many African Americans as nothing more than a facade; a facade that allows corporations to pretend they care about the African American experience because they put some activities together that are designed to appease the masses
but not to create real, effectual systemic change. Systemic change in corporate American, as well as in this country and this world can only be realized when we feel enabled, encouraged and emboldened to do one simple thing: speak.
I am encouraged that the company that I work for, at the executive leadership level, is encouraging us to talk about things that matter to us as a community and as a country. Let’s pray that these conversations impact change in every leader, department, team and person to do better, to be better and to be the change we seek. Let’s
speak!
