Sometimes, I wonder if people really, truly appreciate the power of books. So many are produced that it’s easy to get swept up in the churn, but every once in a while, one will pop up that can truly be revelatory.
I am only 31 pages into this 126 page read and already it is shifting my world on its axis, allowing me to be seen and heard in a way that hasn’t happened recently if ever.
Though Jennifer Farmer is thousands of miles away writing about the experiences of Black women in the US, it’s incredible how it resonates on a molecular level with a Sierra Leonean woman living on British shores.
Jennifer is very clear and unapologetic about her work: It is written for Black women. Not women of colour. *Black* women. It comes after her own experiences of trauma in the workplace especially when you ultimately end up being the first and only. Throughout my employment career – as opposed to my journey as a business owner – I have typically been the one and only in any Communications team I’ve worked in (Jennifer and I also have Comms in common). And as I’ve been a mother for most of my life probably the only parent and various other intersections. And, as she describes, we are always under that challenge of having to prove ourselves not only as women but as a Black person to boot.
As we start the book, Jennifer validates some of the different experiences Black women may face and then advises that despite being gaslit at times into thinking these ideas are in our head they are indeed real and we have to be intentional about how we protect ourselves from the weathering of it all.
First and Only comes at a time where I have been reviewing my own experiences across my career and the places I have sought solace. As an avid lover of leadership books, for example, I’ve latterly started evaluating who exactly is writing them. I say this because we do not live in a world where all is equal so a white male senior executive will never be able to write in a way that encompasses the Black female experience.
The same could be said of even those who may have a portion of our experiences such as the Entrepreneur Steven Bartlett. As someone English-Nigerian heritage you could assume he has a level of insight but that seems to be the contrary as I discuss in my partial review of his second book, Diary of a CEO: 33 Laws of Business and Life Every leadership book cannot cover all of the things but it is devastatingly impactful that so few cover our experiences so we’re left in the wilderness piecing things together through conversations and articles in Black press.
Jennifer talks about the hostile workplace and says “Let’s be clear: A hostile workplace doesn’t have to be one with overt violence. When you hear the word hostile, you may think of the most egregious forms of oppression. But a hostile environment is one with explicit and implicit bias. It is one where there is overt discrimination, yes, but more subtle types of discrimination—being overlooked, undervalued, and uninvited—create hostile work environments as well. People who call themselves liberal and progressive may still be anti-Black, racist, sexist, and hostile to Black input and expressions.” Phew. It is interesting how insidious the mistreatment of Black women can be. This reminded me of a role I worked in for two years where not once was I invited to meet with the White female CEO. When my white female replacement came, she was invited into the meeting her very first week. A colleague (white and female) noticed and asked me why that had happened and I told her my point of view: my race. I believe she saw it too hence the question. I also posed her question to my white managers who uncomfortably shifted, unable to give me a clear answer.
And here also demonstrates further some of Jennifer’s points about Black women and those that manage them. A management title implies a level of experience to lead but isn’t necessarily the case – This country’s whole political system is evidence of that – however managers often do not have the skillset to comprehend and cater for the experiences of those from a diverse background. Like a white male manager who asked me “Do you think you’re experiencing this because you’re Black” after the Head of HR a white woman began a campaign against me which thankfully failed.
In these two examples, I believe people consciously see the injustice but make it the oppressed’s responsibility to explain or process their victimisation with them. Neither of them felt it necessary to advocate or challenge those creating the environment.
Jennifer’s acknowledgement that whilst women as a collective may have shared experiences such as misogyny, women of colour are not incapable of being “anti-Black” was an interesting point as this is typically pointed at white women. Not something I’d experienced until recent history, Jennifer highlights that whilst other minoritised communities will experience oppression, it would vary the closer they got to whiteness and be distinctly different to their Black counterparts.
The only thing I’ve yet to see the book address is how this experience is so heavily permeated in our peers and how we navigate that experience when those that look like us also reflect this toxic behaviour back. A good chunk of my work as a manager is advocacy. Weathering, age and frustration means I’ve developed the ability to speak up when it’s clear that a basic level of respect isn’t being extended to those I represent and so I challenge. However, I often find I have to defend myself for advocating by those I do represent. My ability to address a scenario even in the most professional way I suppose can be uncomfortable. I am invariably made to be the problem – you just don’t click with them, you’re too harsh, all the phrasing created to silence Black women. However, more often than not, my point is proven and my advocacy results in either a better outcome or clarity on where we stand but often at the cost to my own sense of self, leaving me to then build back up whilst they reap the spoils of not having to have that battle.
Like Chris Gillebeau’s book The Art of Non-Conformity helped me to realise that my desire to be self employed was not far fetched or impossible, First and Only already feels like a potentially seminal book on my personal journey. It stands to remove the onus often placed on Black women to find the answers within ourselves as to why our work is never quite good enough – though it is- , to ‘do more’ though it’s never clear what ‘more’ actually is and to be more palatable for others though we are the oppressed. I hope that its promise to help us heal from the past traumas inflicted and to provide the reader with tools on how to safeguard ourselves in a world not always built to our benefit is truly the case. Whilst like any other book, it can not speak for everyone’s needs to even be offered a sense of direction or a starting point is an incredible place to begin.
