Not so micro: Avoid committing these 5 microaggressions

Intersectionality: “The complex, cumulative way in which the effects of multiple forms of discrimination (such as racism, sexism, and classism) combine, overlap, or intersect – especially in the experiences of marginalized individuals or groups.”

Feminist scholar Kimberlé Crenshaw introduced the term “intersectionality” in a paper she wrote for the University of Chicago Legal Forum in 1989. More than three decades later, the term has become embedded in mainstream political culture in the U.S. Its framework has even entered the workplace, and is a catalyst for social activism globally.

But intersectionality isn’t an abstract theory. For many people, it manifests itself through every day social and professional interactions. Some of these include “microaggressions” – which, in my eyes, are not so micro. Over time, these incidents and quips can have a cumulative effect on a person’s psyche and self-worth.

As someone who proudly lives on the intersection of blackness and womanhood, I have personal experience with being on the receiving end of such behavior. And, like millions of black Americans, I have internalized the ripple effects of this for as long as I can remember.

Many of us are exhausted from bearing the burden of finding ways to confront – and avoid – these hostilities. So, here’s a primer on how to avoid committing some not-so-microaggressions that are often perpetuated by WASPS and those who have a close proximity to whiteness or cultural power.

“How did you get this job?”

In my senior year of college, I interned at a TV news affiliate and assisted with producing on-air programs. One day, I was exchanging pleasantries with a show guest, who happened to be a prominent member of local law enforcement in Houston. He asked bluntly, “Who did you know here to get this job?” I responded, “No one. I got hired on my own.”

He quickly changed his demeanor and attempted to play the question off as a mere joke. But it was too late – his assumptions about me and my merits reverberated through my system like aftershocks of a major earthquake. “Why do I have to ‘know someone’ to be worthy enough to be here?” I thought to myself.

The point is, while his comment could be interpreted as a backhanded compliment, its impact was the opposite. Just avoid this one completely, folks.

“He/she is so well-spoken.”

This is akin to: “He/she is articulate.” It’s hard to believe that this is still a thing in 2020, but here we are. Bottom line: This is an inherently offensive statement. I was reminded of just how offensive it is when it became a point of contention between Cory Booker and Mike Bloomberg during the Democratic primary.

Telling a black person that they “speak well” is an insult to our intelligence and insults our intelligence. This statement is premised on the belief that African Americans who are able to express coherent thoughts are somehow anomalies in an otherwise intellectually inferior race.

Take the plight of the black quarterback, for example. For decades, football executives, coaches and analysts suggested black men were not intelligent enough to play the position.  Fortunately, there has been a shift (albeit slow) in football culture, and there are now several elite, young black quarterbacks in the NFL.

Also  – don’t look now – but even the New England Patriots have a black quarterback.

“Wow! Your hair is getting so long.”

Hair is a sensitive topic in general. But for black men and women, the perception of our hair choices can be life altering and a determinant of access to educational and economic opportunities.

Solange performing in Oslo, Norway in June 2017. (Photo credit: Tore Sætre)

As author, professor, and political scientist Melissa Harris-Perry wrote in Slate: “The reactions our hair gets from others, particularly for black women, are so overwhelmingly definitive of our experience of our public selves and our beauty. Black hair might not always be that way, but within the current U.S. context, it is such a defining aspect of the lives of black girls and black women.”

I change my hair quite a bit. Even though you might mean well when you exclaim, “Your hair is getting so long, Nicole!” it is not received well. Please don’t pretend like you’re not assuming I’m wearing extensions of some sort. And if you’re unsure, please don’t ask unless I voluntarily bring it up. A simple compliment like, “Your hair looks good!” will suffice.

Finally, as Solange sings so beautifully – please do not touch my hair without permission (unless you’re my beautician or my lover.)

“I’m not a racist, but..”

This is a close cousin to: “I don’t have a racist bone in my body.” Introducing your thought with a declaration like this never ends well. Ever. What usually follows is a bigoted statement littered with racial stereotypes and condescension.

If you’re white and wish to express your thoughts on race relations, just express them honestly. Don’t preface your take by saying you aren’t racist. It’s like asking for permission for the inevitably racist thing you are about to say.

“I don’t see color!”

Yes – this is a not-so-microaggression – and perhaps the least micro of them all. I need you to see my “color.” You seeing the entirety of my being is an acknowledgement of my humanity, culture, and the history of my ancestors.

And let’s get real – “Colorblindness” is a shield that powerful white Americans often use to protect themselves from engaging in hard conversations about American evils, such as chattel slavery and Jim Crow laws.

Instead of proclaiming to be colorblind, acknowledge our vast differences and how they impact the ways in which we are perceived by society. This is one way to help pave a cohesive path towards achieving true anti-racism.

Question: Have you ever experienced or committed a not-so-microaggression? Drop me a line below or email me.