On Being Called the "Whisperer"

Hey, people of pallor with power and privilege and those who seek to curry the favor of white supremacists and "societal norms!" Here's your Wednesday reminder that a person being melanated and sharing their experiences navigating white supremacy in your workplace does not mean that person wants to be your "racism whisperer." The same goes for queer-identifying folx not wanting to be your "LGBTQIAA+ whisperer" and people with disabilities not wanting to be your "disability whisperer."

We didn't sign up for that.

We want to do our jobs well enough to be proud of our work and keep our jobs while dodging your ever-increasing scrutiny of our work due to your unwillingness to unpack your sh-- and then go home. If we share an experience we've had with you in the workplace, it was likely shared to educate you to the point that you will hopefully quit doing us and people like us ongoing harm.

You will never pay us enough to be a "whisperer" about anything in your white supremacist workplace environments. No money can ever supplant that sick feeling we often get in our guts when we have to be around you, listen to you say hateful and ignorant things, and mull over when is the right time to educate you instead of telling you where to go and how to get there. No money will ever aid our nervous systems in not feeling like the moment we put ourselves out there to gently call you in or teach you that our livelihoods are in danger. No money will ever make us feel OK with being tokenized by you, pushed to share our stories repeatedly with you, or make the number of boundaries we must have while in your workplace to exist and not be harmed by you feel any less burdensome.

Leave us be and digest what we shared with you. Own your actions instead of commodifying human beings.

On Whiteness, Identity, and Sliced Bread

One of the most dangerous things that people of pallor created when they decided that being accepted as a person of pallor was somehow better than sliced bread was creating the homogenized identity that we all know as whiteness.

People of pallor are so generationally removed from their identities, their cultural identities, and so deep in the trenches of white conformity and norms that a person of pallor being "unapologetically white" is a hate crime waiting to happen. Like so many people of culture, Black, Brown, and Indigenous folx, folx from AAPI communities are so proud of their identities and wear them proudly. I'm unapologetically Black. I have rarely felt fear when a person of culture shares how proud they are of their culture and heritage. But the moment I see and hear a person of pallor screaming about being "unapologetically white" or "white pride," I feel a chill up my spine because it always comes with a bucket of hate speech, fragility, and violence.

Think about how messed up it is to create a construct to trumpet to the heavens that you're somehow superior to any person with deeper tones in their skin than your own, only to make the most paper-thin and traumatized faux culture in the history of the world, one that has done irreparable generational damage to people of pallor while placing everyone else in a constant state of danger.

I prefer sliced bread.

On Toby, Death, Legacy, and Rewrites

TW: mentions of racism, homophobia, and xenophobia.

So, I posted about Toby Keith on one of my other social media platforms, and whew! Some folx (read: people of pallor) weren't too keen on it. One person (read: cishet man of pallor) went as far as posting, "Way to kick a man when he's down."

I get it. He died. He likely died a painful death. And that sucks. I'm sure his family is grieving. One part of my humanity feels for them (I'm not a heartless monster). Maybe talking about his "accomplishments" (read: being a hateful person with a public platform) when he's barely been gone a week is cold. Some might say that's ice cold. Frigid. Mortal Kombat Sub Zero-level frosty. But you know what?

There's a lot I will never be sure of in this life- life is fickle like that. But one thing I can be sure of is that when I die, there won't be a ticker-tape parade of happiness that I'm no longer here or a notion that the world will be a little safer without me in it.

Think about it: if your death is a cause for celebration for any marginalized, invisible, and unserved community targeted by hate, you're likely on the wrong side of, well, everything. History, decency, everything.

Collectively, we must quit looking at a person's life's work to cherry-pick the things that work for whatever narrative works with our worldviews - views often obscured through generations of hate and toxic norms. I know people of pallor and societal culture are usually keen on re-writing and re-crafting history and "looking at the positives." But when a person's life's work is aimed at harming others, and their work becomes anthems for hate, racism, homophobia, and xenophobia? Help me see how the positives outweigh the negatives enough to disregard harm.

No one is perfect. We all have flaws. But when the things people defend as your "flaws" are evidence that you're a deplorable human being who used their public platform to traffic in pain, racism, homophobia, and xenophobia, maybe the people you've targeted with said public platform ain't gonna feel so bad when your red Solo cup tips over and spills everywhere for the final time.

Just sayin'.

[Image description: An image of a gathering of Black men. Most are staring into the distance, witnessing something messed up. The Black man in the foreground is holding a Solo cup, looking toward the viewer with a "damn" expression on their face. The man walks away from the scene shaking his head and muttering, “Damn.”]

[Image description: An image of a gathering of Black men. Most are staring into the distance, witnessing something messed up. The Black man in the foreground is holding a Solo cup, looking toward the viewer with a "damn" expression on their face. The man walks away from the scene shaking his head and muttering, “Damn.”]

Image description: A picture of a cute brown dog giving its owner the side-eye. The picture is captioned, "Me watching members of the interview panel talk to an interviewee about how diversity, equity, and inclusion mean so much to them and the company when I'm on the HR team watching everyone who isn't at the intersections of being white, cis-presenting, able-bodied, and championing white supremacist ideologies leave the company for the same reasons."

BRUH. Don't even invite me to be on the interview panel. That kind of foolish decision-making will only make it harder for both of us to get through the interview.

My side-eye is always unhindered.

I'm amazed at how many interview panels I've been on in my career where interviewers try their hardest to talk about the company like it's the dawn of a new day, often while people who have recently been harmed by the company's culture and its emissaries are expected to smile and talk the place up. Like, I get not wanting to sandbag the company. I get it. But the number of lies interviewers often tell in interviews to avoid having to be remotely honest about things not being 100% copacetic are the reasons why so many folx from unserved and melanated communities job hop so often.

It's why companies have horrific retention rates.

It's why most companies are unsafe places for so many people to work.

And it's why many workplaces focus so hard on the spin rather than legitimately doing better.

It's easier to sell harm if you gloss over it with bells, whistles, and fallacies to check a recruitment box.

I feel fortunate not to be part of interview panels at this juncture of my career. I used to tell people exactly what they were getting into, y'all. No joke. And believe me when I say that I've paid for not being willing to contribute to someone's harm. Financially, emotionally, mentally. But I just couldn't shut up in those moments. I couldn't watch people make the mistakes I made in joining these dangerous environments for a paycheck.

I had a white cis female supervisor once who said to me that I needed to be willing to allow others to make their own decision on employment, even if they were walking into a harmful culture. Any faith I had in her flew out the window and exploded like a released dove into the engine of a passing airplane. I had shared my concerns with her about this for a year, watching the revolving door of melanin and queer identities come and go. Her advice was not to get in the trenches and address the matter but to shoulder shrug and play along.

Suffice it to say I stopped sharing much with her at that point.

I'm glad I'm not placed in that co-dependency space anymore, but it doesn't make knowing people who look like you are entering potentially harmful situations feel any better.

Pro tip: If you feel the interview panel is telling you what they think you want to hear, please take the hint if you can. You deserve not to be walked into a trauma trap.

[Image description: A picture of a cute brown dog giving its owner the side-eye. The picture is captioned, "Me watching members of the interview panel talk to an interviewee about how diversity, equity, and inclusion mean so much to them and the company when I'm on the HR team watching everyone who isn't at the intersections of being white, cis-presenting, able-bodied, and championing white supremacist ideologies leave the company for the same reasons."]

On Tamir's 21st Birthday

Image description: a picture of a 12-year-old Tamir Rice. He is smiling at the camera while throwing up a peace sign. The sun from a nearby window gives his soft brown skin a glow.

TW: discussion around police-involved shootings, murder, anti-Blackness, and racism.

Tamir Rice should be 21 years old today.

Tamir should be celebrating with friends and family, with a long weekend to do so.

But Tamir is not here today.

Tamir is not here today because, at the age of 12, he was murdered by a police officer who had been deemed emotionally unstable and unfit for duty by Independence, Ohio’s police department but lied about this to get a job with the Cleveland Police Department.

Tamir is not here today because he was murdered by a Cleveland police officer who never received a background check when he applied for the Cleveland Police Force.

Tamir’s family received no justice for his murder because a jury believed the officer who murdered Tamir was justified in his actions. After all, Tamir had an airsoft pistol that looked real, and there was no way the officer could know the difference.

Meanwhile, white mass shooters on murder sprees get lengthy negotiations, gentle trips to the police station and Burger King, and so much benefit of the doubt and so many excuses for their actions that it’s blatantly apparent whose lives don't matter.

Tamir should be celebrating the benchmark of adulthood.

But Tamir isn't with us today.

[Image description: a picture of a 12-year-old Tamir Rice. He is smiling at the camera while throwing up a peace sign. The sun from a nearby window gives his soft brown skin a glow.]