How “Central Park Amys” use their power in the workplace.
What happens when other Amys strike back against black co-workers and authority, and there are no cameras present?
Power demands acquiesce, that’s its nature. Amy Cooper knew that. She knew it consciously and unconsciously because it is woven into her DNA. The past is present in our genes. As Dr. Rachel Yehuda, professor of psychiatry at Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai, has theorized from her research, trauma can be passed down. Epigenetics is said to explain how severe incidents of trauma (i.e., slavery, holocaust, etc.) and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) can be passed down through generations in shared family genes. But what of those who inflicted the trauma, what’s passed down in their genes? A sense of superiority, a visceral need to dominate, cruelty? Does it lie dormant until challenged by those they feel should exist beneath them on a cellular level?
When “Barbeque Becky” or now Central Park Amy express fear, they are expressing a real fear of blackness. It’s an irrational fear, a distorted funhouse mirror warped by history, culture, and privilege but a fear nonetheless. And they know how to soothe that fear, somewhere in their DNA they know that one word from them to the authorities can bring this fear, this threat to an end. When Amy Cooper confronted Christian Cooper (unrelated, as far as we know though we know our blood crosses barriers), she knew or felt that surge of power backed up by history and experience.
As Zeba Blay, writing for the Huffington Post, so succinctly distilled, “…[W]hen asked by Christian Cooper to follow the rules; it’s telling that her reaction was indignant, angry, and then passively violent. She understood completely the implications of calling the cops on a Black man. She understood that her faux-breathless screaming and tears could elicit a very specific, historic, racialized response. And that is why she did it, why she felt comfortable saying all the things she said, with a camera trained on her. It makes one wonder what Amy Cooper has said and done that has been harmful to Black people and other people of color when a camera wasn’t trained on her. As The Black List founder Franklin Leonard asked on Twitter, ‘How many times has Amy Cooper said behind closed doors that a black co-worker wasn’t a team player,’ ‘isn’t one of us,’ ‘made her uncomfortable?’ How many times has she just not been able to put her finger on it, but just doesn’t think they’re the right candidate for the job?” [sic]
And therein lies the rub. What happens when these cellular level reactions happen in the workplace? What happens when there are no cameras or recording devices present? How can supervisors or HR departments not believe this seemingly real trauma, “you must have done something” and sift through Amy or Karen or Becky’s words and toxic tears? Franklin Leonard’s twitter feed and comments under cultural commentator Luvvie Ajayi Jones’ Blog “Awesomely Luvvie” give us just a peek at the tip of that iceberg:
Awesomely Luvvie “About the Weary Weaponizing of White Women’s Tear’s April 17, 2018
MR: “I was a young girl, got fired from my first job because a white girl cursed ME out. By the time the boss came out, she was crying, and he let me go. I didn’t know how to defend or protect myself when I was seen as the aggressor. And frankly speaking, the shit creeped me out, and I think somehow they convinced me that my posture or something made her cry. I hadn’t thought about it until now.”[sic]
VK: “Two years ago, I was barked on by a [..] WW at my job. I barked right back on her. She ran crying to a supervisor. Somehow I was called to meet with the only Black supervisor at my job. That heifer had the nerve to DEFEND the WW’s tears. I no longer give a single f**k about any of their feelings. I call things as they are and keep it moving. They are not the end-all and be-all of my existence.” [sic]
And while it is true that you are the master of your destiny, it’s also true that usually, someone else’s name is on your paycheck. And as noted above by VK, it’s not just white people. All of us, white people and people of color, are acculturated to believe what white people say and to respond to white women’s tears. The other interesting piece of this is that many of the comments on both Luvvie Ajayi Jones’s blog and Franklin Leonard’s twitter feed are from black women.
From the Twitter Feed of @franklinleonard from @theblcklst
Craziebutiful@Craziebutiful Replying to @franklinleonard, “I met some Amy Cooper (s) in one of my classes at Ohio University. They gas lit and disrespected a Black female professor, and then one of them contested her final grade claiming that she had been discriminated against.” [sic]
“Celestial Spirit @Supernalwings Replying to @franklinleonard, “You don’t know how your words have brought so much closure to so many black professionals. I have been made to feel maybe it’s just me & I have to change if I want to succeed! There is so much talent cut down before it had a chance & people like her sit as a gatekeeper to destroy!”[sic]
The police officer who put his knee to George Floyd’s throat literally used the full weight of his whiteness to choke out Floyd’s life. But every day black folks and other people of color figuratively bear that weight in the workplace, and no “equity lens” can fix that. Many of the stories that poured out from black folks online expressing their experiences with “Amys” is heartbreaking. That stress, the straight jacket of expectations, and the constant micro and macro aggressions, as well as outright lies and threats, are critical factors behind the very health disparities that have made black and brown people more susceptible to COVID19.
White women live in a dual reality. They live as the oppressed and as the oppressor. They function in a world that has minimized, undermined, trivialized, and excluded them. A world that frustrates and angers them. And yet they can enact those same ills on others and frequently in the workplace that anger and frustration are targeted at black women and other women of color. White women live in a world that has “infantilized” them. A society that values their youth, beauty, and enforces a childish expression of femininity that literally steals their voices and has them speaking in whispers. While white women’s empowerment is about rejecting this way of being, they are also reassured by it. Just as a child learns early on that their tears will bring their parents running white women learn that we all live in a system that values their tears and their well-being above all others. So the “child-like” foot-stomping anger and malicious lying that we saw on videotape are Amy defaulting to her factory settings. It’s in the ether that surrounds all of us and whispers in her ear, “this is how you deal with black folks who step out of line, who challenge you.” The seductiveness of that power is hard to ignore.
Black women enter the fray as adults. Not because that is who they are born to be or who they want to be, we are shy, we cry, have anxieties, and are messy, but the world makes it clear that it most definitely does not care about our tears. As research from the Center on Poverty and Inequality at Georgetown University Law Center describes the “adultification” of African-American girls negatively impacts how they’re treated by school administrators, law enforcement, and the justice system, beginning in childhood. That adultification in childhood is going to shape a very different adult than one who has been infantilized. During childhood, it becomes clear to black girls that, to the world, their tears, concerns, well-being, their very safety, and protection are of no interest. This is not to say that black girls don’t have loving homes and don’t cry, it is to say that the world they interact with is rigid, punitive, and unforgiving. White women’s empowerment is about stepping into their truth as adults. Black women’s empowerment is about allowing them to express themselves as human beings. So when infantilization meets adultification in the workplace, what could possibly go wrong? That black women are stereotyped as angry, bossy, threatening, and loud means that the “Amys” in the workplace always have an ace card to play. Black co-workers and bosses must walk a tight rope designed not to trip the “Amy” wire in white women. When we talk about “leaning in” and “how women lead,” we are discussing white women’s normative ways of being. Black women are penalized for “leaning-in” for the decisiveness that comes from a lifetime of adultification.
The response from white people in general and even other people of color to black authority is to feel oppressed by it. It is so foreign that there is no way to processes it. Black people frequently report being questioned about their experience, knowledge, and temperament even when they are the boss. While we can all “tisk, tisk” Central Park Amy’s irrational and illogical behavior, but we turn a blind eye to or maybe can’t even see when other Amys bring that behavior into the workplace. The irrational fear of black people is real, and it’s not just a fear of black men. Surely we can understand that that fear bleeds into every aspect of our lives? Simple workplace interactions take on tones of menace when both white and people of color, are simply unable to process black leadership, direction, or even contradiction. White co-workers use the tools of the workplace to marginalize, penalize and ultimately remove black people and, in particular, black women from the workplace for “stepping out of line.” I don’t think that this is even a conscious awareness for most people. They just know that something feels wrong when power is not vested in whiteness. Even people of color can suffer from this.
So what’s the solution? There isn’t one solution. It involves being honest about the fact that there is a little Amy, Karen, and Becky in every white woman raised in this country. Acknowledging this fact doesn’t come from a place of dislike or anger, just acknowledgment. According to the University of California historian Stephanie Jones-Rogers, as quoted by the Washington Post, “Before white women could vote, they could lodge an accusation against a black person that could be deadly. The power that [Amy Cooper] felt she had, the power to be believed … is a very long-standing power that white women have possessed and chosen to exercise at various points in our history,” said Jones-Rogers, author of “They Were Her Property: White Women as Slave Owners in the American South.” Being aware of that would be a big step forward. Black women cannot hold all things, endure all things. They must claim their right to cry, stomp their feet, and hurt and have those feelings validated, “We are not talking publically about our deep exhaustion for many reasons, including our own shame and sense of failure.” Sayu Bhojwani writing for Zora
And maybe we need to find a new way to document workplace interactions? Until cellphones recorded our struggles, in living color, many white people could not hear the truth. They did not believe our experiences until they saw them, and some still refuse to believe their own eyes. It sounded incredible. They were incredulous, “you were just walking in a store, and someone accused you of stealing for no reason? You MUST have done something.” Well, that same dynamic exists in the workplace today. When black people and other people of color try to describe the dynamics they are dealing with in workspaces, it’s like trying to explain the invisible man to those who don’t believe he exists. Short of overtly racist statements, and even then, “you might have misinterpreted it,” the decisions of management and HR comes down to who do you believe? And for black people, no amount of education, experience or even time can trump the word of an upset white woman. And while we know cellphone video is not the Balm of Gilead, it has been at least an eye-opener for those who are willing to open their eyes. So maybe workplaces need to consider video tapping, discussions, disciplinary actions, meetings, and other conversations so that there is a record of the interactions? These videos could be used as teaching tools and at least an attempt to find an objective view of any conflict. Organizations, not individuals, need coaching on how racial dynamics are showing up in their evaluations, promotions and, supervision, and day-to-day interaction. This would take us beyond DEI training and lenses to actual implementation and accountability.
Black people are exhausted and we all need a new way forward, maybe it all needs to be on videotape.
