10 years of designing and acting white
TLDR: Who am I in the corporate space? What does it mean to be a whole, human designer? For some, the answer to this question is straightforward. For others, it’s not. The freedom to define oneself without barriers is truly an advantage. In this opinion essay, the author reflects on her experience as a designer in corporate spaces. She discusses issues like code-switching, cultural representation and self-acceptance. She shares a related incident where a team of executives chose an idea that perpetuates its racist historical connotations. Her decision to speak up resulted in the termination of her role. Her response involves embarking on a journey to understand the importance of getting in touch with all of her parts of the self. Taking practices from Internal Family Systems (a psychological modality) and Appreciative Inquiry, she facilitates dialogue between her Western corporate self and ethnic self. To be human is to integrate all parts of the self i.e. embracing, accepting and loving. To cultivate a more inclusive workplace is to learn to make space for ethnic and community parts of the self.
⚠️ Trigger Warning: This article discusses experiences of racial identity, discrimination, and cultural challenges in professional environments.
Introduction: Entering the Corporate World
April 2024 marks the first decade I’ve been working in design. Looking back, I realised people rarely discuss an important conversation: navigating your corporate identity — while being your authentic self. Who am I in the corporate space? How should I behave? Is it merely about meeting a set of criteria? Do I have to fit into the quirky designer stereotype, hiding out in the basement with witty mugs and tattoo arm sleeves? Is there something more?
I quickly learned that developing my corporate self takes skill. For instance, code-switching was an essential skill. My parents gave me both English and ethnic names, preparing me for the globalised West. In my culture, names connote identities. In other words, they gave me two identities. Two worlds live within me.
Peers would speak with an accent in professional meetings, and another during lunch. In school, I’d get higher grades for designing my work with Bauhaus elements. There aren’t clear incentives for those who explored South East Asian art and history. Soon enough, I was trying to be white. Meet my corporate self. She’s suited up with a tie, embodying Western accents and ways of relating to others.
Culture Shocks in Corporate
Culture shocks in corporate aren’t easy to navigate. Half-white or pan-Asian talents were often prioritised. This, even though my country’s population is 98% non-white. Double standards were often exercised. White colleagues get to knock off before their local counterparts. Worst still, they get away with unethical behaviour. They often receive more recognition for their work despite putting in the same amount of effort, if not, less than the others. Being white helps.
Of course, acting white comes with its challenges and disadvantages. I felt more self-conscious in predominantly white spaces. Not only was I afraid to speak up, I’ve always had the deprecating sense that: because I was a non-white writer, I was not on par with my white peers. My white colleagues often got mistakenly praised for my work. All this, while knowing full well that I am a native English speaker and competent writer.
Finding Who I Am in Corporate
A significant memory comes to mind. I was a 23-year-old copywriter working for an advertising agency run by European ad veterans in Singapore. Darlie toothpaste, previously known as “Darkie”, became highly conscious of its racial and historical context. In response, the Chinese toothpaste brand needed contextualisation to its market. Young, millennial and multiracial, we were ready to get our hands dirty. We had fun coming up with colloquial lines like, “A Darlie a day keeps the pontianak (ghost) away.” “Kopi — tak — diam!” (Drink coffee, but keep talking.)
In the end, an idea was chosen. It was about a tap-dancing entertainer promoting toothpaste in his blissful, sheer ignorance. This gives a nod to black(face) minstrel shows in the 70s. Blackface entertainers were known to mock African American slaves, making caricatures of their stereotypes. Based on the minstrel performer Al Jolson¹, the old brand logo revealed the entertainer’s shiny pearly whites, striking a stark contrast against their dark skin, “Darkie”. The toothpaste’s name was borrowed from a racial slur used against African-Americans in the Jim Crow era². The company changed its name and redrew its logo when it received complaints about the offensive name and packaging. Thankfully, the company did not select the agency’s work.
I was enraged. Not only was the chosen idea non-representative of Singaporean values, but it was also completely oblivious to its racist connotations. The decision-makers were of European descent, dominant caste, and male. Ideas that had local references were shut down because they didn’t ‘get it’. They were ‘dull’ and ‘falling flat’.
Yet, I felt something from within me that I could not ignore. I wanted to make space. For the stories of my grandparents. For the experiences I had with a diverse, multiracial community. The ideas we presented were the expression of the Singaporean soul. I remember feeling the pain as my human response was dismissed as a display of ‘rebellion’. I felt hurt. What belongs to my identity was criticised as ‘dull’ or ‘falling flat’. All because someone didn’t ‘get it’. Localised content has to be designed with, not for, Singaporeans.
“These jokes are too yellow for you,” I was fired the moment I expressed this. It wasn’t the best, but I was happy. Little did I know this was the start of something bigger.
Understanding Identity Growing Up
My parents would often say, “Be proud to be Singaporean, Malaysian, Peranakan (e.g. straits-born Chinese), islander, Hokkien, Cantonese, anglicised³.” I’m from the global South, but I’m not. Elusive, blended, not in its purity, but we were all of it.
However, parts of me have been conflicted with each other because of the contradictory maxims I’ve internalised. Adapt. Pretend to be white. Forget your family dialects. Heck, drop Singlish (Singapore’s version of patois). Fit into the global corp. But don’t be too white — and keep your head low. Respect the Western ‘hierarchy’. Coming to terms with the conflict within myself, I decided: I am who I choose to be. I choose acceptance and integration.
Accepting Myself
In this section, guiding questions are provided for reflection and navigation.
I still embrace and honour my corporate self.
What are some key differences in the code-switched version of me? Does this adaptation of myself work for me?
She grew up with BBC radio. She’s the self who keeps me ‘presentable’. She’s great with neutral accents and small talk. However, this is not how I relate to my family or community because the English language is limited in its expression in spiritual and emotional depth. Yet, she communicates to the global corporate community through its empirical grid. She incorporates Bauhaus and European modernist elements to keep my work ‘progressive’.
But I find ways to let my family or community self take space.
Who am I at home or during my childhood? What makes me feel at home? Are there ways to make me feel at home in a corporate environment — in small ways?
I’ve stopped overwriting her. The part of me that interfaces with community, culture and heritage. The way dad cooks, the way mum exclaims in happiness, my childhood in rural Malaysia. She’s a collective representation of all struggle, emotion, dance, food and expression experienced in the open-door kampong i.e. village. It’s not a requirement in corporate to eradicate her. She is sacred to me. Being in a truly inclusive workplace means that my community self is invited, respected and included.
I constantly facilitate dialogue between my Western and community parts.
How can I learn to accept different parts of myself? What’s the underlying belief for the emotions I feel? How can I learn to trust myself more? What do I dream of bringing into my daily life from my community?
The solution isn’t to suppress our community selves. Neither is it to reject the Westernised versions of ourselves. Dreaming and co-creating towards wholeness is my approach for the future⁴. A new dialogue has to begin. A new culture has to emerge. I’m learning to understand these parts of myself, facilitating dialogues between my Western and my community selves. Conversating with them cultivates a feeling of being heard — a sense of agency. It inspires me to dream of a better me. I’m learning to live with accepting tensions, contradictions and nuance. These conversations don’t have to end in a binary yes/no, wrong/right, black/white outcome⁵.
Conclusion
Corporate design that’s catered to ‘universal humankind’ is ‘mass-produced’ with ‘modern aesthetics’ for those who are white, male (by birth or social expression), European, Christian, affluent or middle class and of able-body and mind⁵. What’s ‘international’ — the Bauhaus and European modernist movement — does not resonate with my family or community. Growing up, Darlie has always been a questionable brand name. (‘黑人牙膏’ which means ‘black people toothpaste’ has always raised eyebrows.) Tap dancing has never been a part of community. Code-switching or communicating in Queen’s English constitutes a tiny part of my life. Community conversations have consistently centred around heritage. The tribes we come from; the diverse languages our grandparents endowed us; and how we’re learning to make space for co-existence. Case in point: our wonderful mish-mash Singaporean patois, Singlish.
Hence, these parts of me are here to take space. The parts of me who have interfaced with my family and community are present, included and collaborated with. I will be advocating for her. I will be speaking well of her. I will be inviting her to the corporate dance.
Note: My experience is not representative of all who grew up or lived in Singapore. I’m aware that not many have the luxury of being able to afford being fired from their jobs. That is my privilege.
Are you an artist passionate about decolonisation? Please reach out at sam.contactwork@gmail.com or LinkedIn.
References:
¹ National Museum of American History (no date), Darkie Tooth Paste Box.
² Dewolf, C. (2018) How Darkie, now Darlie, became East Asia’s favourite toothpaste despite its blackface branding
Credits to these amazing reads:
³ Lao, F. (2023) Decolonisons Nous.
⁴ Rowett, R. and Wooding, N. (no date) Appreciative Inquiry:
Using Appreciative Inquiry to make change happen.
⁵ Tunstall, E. (2019) Decolonising Design.
