by Yvette R. Murry, MSW, LCSW
Conversations regarding diversity, equity and inclusion abound these days. A few colleagues and I were bandying about what is essential to ensure not just diversity and equity, but actually an understanding of the big “I”: interconnectedness and interdependence.
During the conversation, I shared with my colleagues from a wide range of racial and ethnic backgrounds one of my experiences of intention. I had been a university administrator and faculty member for many years and actively engaged in university-community partnerships. I served on a number of local and statewide boards that addressed and supported these partnerships.
One day, I was approached by a close respected colleague from across the country to join the prestigious national board that set policy for university-community engagements. I was thrilled! I knew that I was likely to be one of the only faces of color in the room, but that is what was often the case in many of the rooms I inhabited.
I was elected to the board, honored at the national conference luncheon as the emerging leader of the year, the first person of color to have ever received the award. It made me, my family, and my BIPOC [Black, Indigenous and People of Color] colleagues proud. (Unbelievably, we are still needing to use the words “the first” in a country where black and brown people have lived on this land from the start.)
I was elated. It had been such a good day. Then I was off to my first board meeting.
We met in a hotel ballroom. There were about 40 members of the board. While I eagerly awaited to learn the names, institutions, and roles of each of my fellow colleagues, I soon realized I was on my own. There was not, and would not be, an onboarding process. There were no name tags or tent cards with people’s names or institutions (relationships), no discussion of the by-laws or committee structures (vision, mission, values), or how meetings and business were conducted (process).
I sat uneasily, anxious, and silent as I observed the dynamics of the group. I witnessed men contributing (calling out) as they had an idea and women waiting patiently with their hands-up to be recognized. I further observed that when women would make a remark, others would shake their heads in agreement. In contrast, when a man expressed the exact same point the man would receive “praise.” I knew I was the lone person of color in the room.
After some time, still unclear of the “rules of engagement,” I raised my hand and waited patiently to be called upon. After being recognized I asked, “What should I do in order to contribute to the meetings?” I shared what I had observed and (as with many times when people of color ask for clarification of the status quo) heard the kiss of death inhale of the other board members.
What people in white bodies and identities have yet to realize is this audible inhale is a micro-aggression. It’s paramount to “clutching your pearls,” throwing your hands up to defend yourself. The inhale is the message that something is not right, there is a threat and we must steel ourselves to what is next to come.
The chair immediately began to defend their process; although my question was not to question THE process, just to understand it. I quickly realized I had become the “confrontational and disgruntled angry black woman.”
As the meeting continued, I continued to sit silently. When committee assignments were made, I was asked to be on the Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCU) working group. I now began to seethe. I politely told the group that I was happy to be on the committee but was not sure what I could offer.
I explained that my undergraduate and graduate education had been at PWIs (predominantly white institutions). I further shared that my 15 years in higher education were at a PWI Research 1 institution and that HBCUs were not my area of expertise. I further recommended that a close white male colleague, also on the board, from a southern-based institution, had worked closely with HBCUs over the years and would be a better choice. Again, the inhale.
When the meeting was over, no one invited me to dinner or to coffee to get to know me better. I felt like a piranha.
The next morning I received a call from my colleague, the person who invited and shepherded my election to the board, for coffee. He had been a mentor to me over the years. I was relieved to know that someone “had my back” and knew my work. Once again energized, I had a host of questions for him about the board, my new colleagues, the strategic plan…the future (my future). As we began to chat and enjoy our coffee and yummy beignets. The conversation turned and so too my positive feelings.
My mentor shared that the group “had conferred” about me as a board member the night before. My heart sank. They wanted it conveyed to me that they felt it important that “I needed to spend some time observing and listening. In time, I would understand the culture and be more ‘appropriately’ able to participate.”
What I heard was the macro-aggression. “The board culture is set, we like the way things are, we are not interested in changing and you’re here for window dressing; know your place.” Anger began to rise and I fought back the tears. It was clear they wanted “window dressing” to prance out when needed. There was no place, no room for deviation or adaptation. My question of the day before of clarification of the process was not welcome and would not be tolerated. It quickly became clear to me that they wanted my Black body in the room, but not my voice or mind.
After the third board meeting, I resigned from the board. I can only imagine the conversation that ensued within the board afterward, about whether they really do need to prioritize inclusion, given how disastrously their attempt turned out. Or, was I just not the “right person” and they should vet better the next black or brown body for admission to their “club.”
If you or your organization seek to be reflective of the communities you serve there are some key questions you should ask yourselves:
1. Why are we even having this conversation? What is driving the conversation? Political correctness, funding, social justice, racial justice?
2. Do we want a participant or a prop?
3. Are we willing to take a personal and collective look at our history and the assumptions that we hold to be universal?
4. What metrics do we currently use to recruit, onboard, and retain board members? Is it enough? Have we created “career paths” for leadership?
5. How do we define diversity, equity, and inclusion? Do we want to have someone at the table (inclusion) or are we looking for interconnection and interdependence?
6. What do we need to do to make ourselves attractive to those who currently don’t sit at our table (e.g., BIPOC, individuals with visible and invisible disabilities, neurodivergent people, multi-lingual people, etc.)?
7. Are we willing to sit at another table where we are out of our comfort zone?
8. Why should someone “not like the others” want to be on our board? What do we offer?
9. Are we able to “tell” and “hear” the truth?
10. Are we willing to learn?
Yvette R. Murry, MSW, LCSW, is the president and CEO of YRM Consulting Group, LLC, a firm specializing in the areas of non-profit excellence, executive leadership, team engagement, cultural competence and community engagement. Yvette is also the past chairperson of the Center for Non-Profits, New Jersey’s statewide umbrella organization for the charitable community.