First job out of college and I’m the only black person in the office. It’s been interesting, to say the least. Here are some of the funny and offensive moments I’m sure a lot of us solo black folks have experienced:
1. When you forget to code-switch your language at work.
2. When your hair becomes a frequent topic of discussion.
3. When you want to turn down your music in the office parking lot but this Kendrick song is EVERYTHING!
4. When you’re at a loss for words because your white boss rolled his neck and snapped his fingers in an attempt to act out an “angry black woman.”
5. When you don’t want to be a stereotype but you’re like “fuck it” and heat up your chicken in the office microwave anyways.
6. If your parents were a little creative with your name, people feel the need to ask and comment on it.
7. When you frequently encounter microagressions at work and don’t quite know how to word your response.
Hey Y’all. I really need your advice. At work, I’ve had to deal with some semi-racist (aka just plain racist) jokes that aren’t funny.
The thing is–there used to be one black woman in the office before I got there. Given the openly racist things that happen, I don’t think she said much about it. But I cannot be that person. I cannot let this go on while I’m at work and it certainly cannot continue after I’m gone. Then the next black person that comes along is going to have to deal with the same shit and will be stuck in this same awkwardness.
Some folks need to be told up front that what they’re doing is NOT okay. However, given the very casual, always-joking climate of the office, I’ve found it difficult to switch gears to a more serious tone and voice my opinion.
It’s easy to be outspoken with my keyboard, but in person I am sometimes more shy and reserved. I’m new to this office and don’t want to create any tension or drama, but I have to do something about it because it feels wrong not to. I can’t be that person who talks tough on the internet and becomes spineless in person.
I’m not a “movie person,” but summer always brings a few films I’m excited to see. However, after writing my recent article about Hollywood’s addiction to typecasting, I couldn’t walk into a theater without feeling guilty. Every time I purchased a ticket, my black feminist conscience would yell, “Are you really going to support an industry that doesn’t give a shit about you?”
I ignored her at first, but after the disappointments from the latest movies I’ve seen, X-men: Days of Future Past, Think Like a Man 2, and Godzilla—I’m officially done with Hollywood.
I’ll save my movie money for an industry that isn’t going to regurgitate stereotypes wrapped in lame, white-washed plots.
I have 3 reasons:
1. Hollywood doesn’t know what to do with women.
As a fan of all things alien and futuristic, Transformers is usually right up my alley. But third Transformers, released prior to the latest movie turned me off for good.
The majority of the time, the lead actress screams and runs from Decepticons in high heels. I’m watching the movie yelling “Bitch, if you don’t take off those heels and run like you got some sense.”
And can she do anything else besides scream, run, and act as the distraction while Shia LaBeouf saves the day?
So I refused to see the latest Transformers because I knew it would have all the same hackneyed motifs— and according to a few reviews, I was spot on.
I mean, is anyone else tired of the Damsel in Distress in action films?
Some of these writers need to take note from The Hunger Games series.
Transformers isn’t the only movie that could’ve utilized the female characters better. In X-men: Days of Future Past, the good white men save the day while the women and characters of colors sit and wait. However, in a 90’s cartoon version of Days of Future Past, it is actually Kitty Pryde who goes back in time to save mutants and humans from their horrible future. Xmen with a woman saving the day sounds like a cools concept. Especially considering Pryde’s mutation makes her untouchable, literally.
I love Hugh Jackman as Wolverine—but it’s time for a diverse range of characters to take the spotlight.
2. White = Universal
Where are all my black leading characters? Not in action films. Not in sci-fi. Not even in animated films. Oh that’s right: black characters are ghettoized into the black film genre, which currently includes the Think Like a Man series, Tyler Perry films (ugh), and whatever Kevin Hart’s currently starring in.
As for all the other people of color: Y’all don’t even get “race-themed” genres.
Yet, whenever all of the characters in a film are white, directors love to claim that “it’s not about race.” Films like Noah and the Gods of Egypt got a lot of pushback for their majority-white cast.
When asked about the lack of diversity in Noah, Co-writer Handel gives one of worst responses: “What we realized is that this story is functioning at the level of myth, and as a mythical story, the race of the individuals doesn’t matter. They’re supposed to be stand-ins for all people.”
And there lies the problem: white is the “stand-in for all people.” Only white skin can represent the whole of our society. This thinking is the very reason why movies are so white, why you hardly ever see Asian male characters in films outside of martial arts films (and Godzilla), and why Halle Berry is the only woman of color ever to receive an Oscar for Best Actress for a leading role.
Let’s get one thing straight: whenever a cast of characters is mostly white, it’s not an accident. If race really didn’t matter, then we would see more diversity. We live in an extremely diverse country with people of origins all over the globe. You just won’t find them on the screen.
3. We’re not humans, we’re stereotypes
I talk about stereotypes a lot on A Womyn’s Worth. And I’m already over my word count, so I’ll be brief with this point.
The trailer of Dear White People, a comedy about stereotypes and white people’s discomfort with diversity, pretty much sums up my feels about seeing stereotypes on the screen.
Finally, I know my one-woman boycott doesn’t really make a difference in anyone’s life but my own. But imagine if every person of color stopped paying money for the exclusionary crap Hollywood puts out. Box offices numbers would drop tremendously, folks will lose money, and things would undoubtedly change (You know what they say: Hit them where it hurts the most—their wallets).
Representation matters, folks. Hollywood tells us that white people are the stars and the rest of us are just extras, brought in to uphold stereotypes and act as sidekicks. So I can no longer contribute to an industry that makes billions of dollars excluding people like me or making us look bad.
Since I’m trying out this whole “responsible adult” thing, I’ve been reading all these career advice articles for young adults with titles like “20 Things You Need to Accept in Your 20’s,” and “Things They Don’t Tell You About Your 20’s.”
The recurring theme in most of them: Life is shitty, student loans will suck you dry, and there are hardly any jobs out there so you should settle for whatever job you can scrounge.
Oh, Thanks y’all. I feel pretty encouraged. -__-
So, follow my dreams… Or nah?
My life goals are, by most people’s standards, very impractical— I’m like Lynn from my favorite throwback show Girlfriends: I have several passions I want to pursue, I do all I can to avoid becoming a corporate slave, and if I could, I would stay in school for a while and get a few master’s degrees.
While some people can (or have to) put aside their life goals, that is simply not an option for me. I cannot function without writing. I literally write for my health—for now. Somewhere down the road, there are a few Oprah’s Book Club novels published with my name on the cover, I’ll have several by-lines in my favorite publications, and I’ll eventually step into the title of Editor and Chief of something fantastic.
But for now, I’m living on a blog and a dream.
For us dreamers, it’s easy to get discouraged—especially in a society where we expect everyone to make “practical” decisions and get “sensible” jobs. It’s difficult to hold on to your goals when people say that you’re too much of an idealist, that you won’t be able to support yourself, and that your dreams are hobbies, not careers. Sometimes, I even say those things to myself.
But “practical” doesn’t always work when idealists feel called to do creative work. And in answering that calling, we have to be resilient against the Naysayers and negativity.
So I created a 7-point list of things I’ve committed to doing in order stay on the right path of my vocation.
Stop calling my dreams “impractical.” For me, impractical can sometimes be a synonym for impossible. I gotta let the word go before I can fully accept that I’ll be successful. Instead, I’ll assume that under the right conditions, all of my goals are possible.
Look at all of the success stories of other people. If other people have done it, I can do it too. I have an editor friend over at Ms. Magazine in her early 20’s and loving her dream job. One of my favorite bloggers financially supports his family of 6 using his blog. Maya Angelou’s life journey, where she went from sex worker to waitress, to dancer, to actress, to award-winning author, is nothing short of amazing. These awesome examples give me hope.
Dream bigger. My friends often come up with the coolest ideas for my blog and my career. I usually think their ideas are too hard to accomplish, but I quickly realize that it isn’t that they are too hard—it’s just that I don’t believe I can do them. Thinking about all of their ideas I mentally shot down, I realize that I need to break out of my “I cant” prison and believe in myself a little more.
Keep making moves toward reaching the goals. I’m committing to writing more often (so look out for my posts y’all) and pitching to publications as often as I can.
Celebrate small victories. I treat myself to something every time I publish an article. I celebrate when my blog stats are higher than usual. These accomplishments bring me closer to my ultimate goal—so I’ll drink to that 😉
Support other people’s dreams. What goes around definitely comes back around. So I’ve began supporting other writers and artists in whatever ways I can. Sometimes just showing up for people goes a long way.
Talk to God. My spiritual foundation is what constantly rejuvenates my desire to write. Sometimes prayer and my church music really get me through difficult days when I’m questioning my calling. Thank God!
A Woman's Worth 