As a person who has enjoyed her life ensconced in the privilege of being white, there is little I can add to the conversations on current and past events that have led to the demonstrations of the past week. So I will refrain from doing so. However, that doesn’t mean I don’t have something to share. A greater understanding.
Many, many years ago I had an encounter with a co-worker that troubled me deeply then and still does. Some of the articles I’ve read in the past couple of days have helped me come to have a greater understanding of that incident. There’s a link to one of those articles at the end of this post. First, though, I’d like to share about the encounter.
It happened over thirty years ago but it’s a memory that will pop into my thoughts from time to time. This co-worker was a black woman who was roughly my age (25 or 26 at the time) or maybe a few years older. We were part of a mostly male unit with 12 or so other persons. The overall atmosphere in our office was a friendly one although there wasn’t much in the way of after-hours socializing. My co-worker was married (no kids) and I was single. At the time of the encounter, there was some trouble in my co-worker’s paradise as I recall that she and her husband had separated.
We had different jobs; I was part of the technical team and she was part of the unit’s support staff as a computer operator. This was in the days before desktop PCs were commonplace and the use of a computer was considered a specialized skill, limited to certain positions. She was already with the office when I started.
Back then as well, no one had their own phone line nor even a phone at their workstation unless they were the person in charge (which I was not). There was the main number for the office and three secondary lines that would allow calls to rollover if the main phone line was in use. Phones themselves were mostly located between workstations so that calls could be handled by any of the staff as appropriate. The answering of incoming calls was handled by staff on a rotating basis. One day, I answered a call from a person who asked to speak with my co-worker.
Incoming calls to our office would typically fall under a limited category of topics. Rarely would a caller ask for a specific person, so one’s that did could be assumed to be personal. As part of support staff, my co-worker didn’t handle the technical calls and she would direct them to appropriate staff if she happened to answer an incoming call.
The caller asking for my co-worker was male. I didn’t ask the person to identify himself. When I went to her to tell her of the call, I ended my conveyance with “it’s a boy” in a sing-song kind of voice. Like I would have said and often did say to my sister if she had a male caller. In my youthful exuberance, it was meant as a lighthearted nudge to my co-worker that her the caller was a man and that maybe she had a new beau.
Perhaps you’ve already figured out what my misstep was. At the time, I was stunned and confused when my co-worker called me out on it later. To her credit, she did so privately but her message was quite clear. Further, she refused to accept any explanation or apology. I realize now how little I understood the magnitude of what I’d said.
At the time, I knew that black people had historically been treated badly, to say the least. As a very young girl, I’d argued with one of my grandmothers over some comments I’d heard her make in conversation about black people (the specifics of which I don’t recall). As Jews and members of another historically marginalized group, I didn’t understand how she would negatively about black people and, not instead, be more supportive. Growing up, I learned of the horrors of slavery, the hardships of segregation, and the marches for civil rights. I never heard my parents or their friends use racial slurs. Those were things that happened in The South, not where I lived. Or so I thought. I know better now.
My co-worker’s caller had been her husband (they were working on reconciling) and she was livid that I had used the word “boy” in reference to him. I was clueless of its use as a derogatory term. My attempts to assure her that I had no egregious intent were waived off. Her sensitivities to that word may have been heightened by the uncertainty of her relationship and opinions held by others. I apologized for upsetting her but that too was met with resistance. While we had never been close, our relationship afterward became cordial at best. Sometime later, she moved onto a different assignment and I lost track of her.
I’m not sure why the memory of this encounter popped into my thoughts today, but it’s not surprising I suppose. And it’s through the lens of what others have written on recent events that I’ve been reflecting on my former co-worker’s reaction and the depth of the pain I must have caused her. My ignorance was not a viable excuse. Feeling as I was being attacked in return, I likely did not convey much empathy in my apology. I can understand how that apology was probably received as dismissive. A greater understanding.
A better outcome might have resulted if I knew to ask her to help me understand. If I had recognized how my own defense mechanisms were holding me back. If I’d risked further embarrassment (because that’s what I felt at the time) and told her that the encounter had shown me how clueless I was conducting myself in a professional setting. Because beyond the misunderstanding of my use of the word “boy”, I should have never made any comment regarding the nature of a personal phone call. A greater understanding.
What It Really Means When You Say “All Lives Matter” – Harper’s Bazaar
There is much more to learn, to do, to bring ourselves to a greater understanding of the struggles and hardships experienced by all who are marginalized, especially black men, women, and children. Awareness to be raised, reforms to be made, policies to be changed. It is not reasonable for there to be one-size-fits-all solutions.
There is an absence of outfit images in this post because it’s not like my others. I typically don’t venture into politics. Like with other bloggers, it didn’t feel right to not put out a statement of support to the peaceful demonstrators working to bring a focus of attention to the on-going injustices experienced in disenfranchised communities. And the need for changes that address these conditions. Plainly and simply, without distraction. Be well.
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