“We’ve Lost That Loving Feeling: On the Loss of Camaraderie,” in Embracing the Real World: The Black Woman’s Guide to Life after College, Ed. Chaz Kyser, Langston, OK: Seshet Press, 2007.
Not very long ago, my friend and I sat in the new university bistro lamenting the isolation we feel on a campus that now has more African-Americans and other ethnic groups than at any other time in its 132-year history. We reflected on a time—the 70’s, when faculty and staff organizations emerged to address discrimination in hiring, retention, promotions and merit, for examples—key issues in campus life, which became even more critical during the Reagan era. Not only did these groups help to fight our racial battles, they also gave us an opportunity to come together to share information. Furthermore, these activist organizations provided forums for African-Americans to learn and understand the workings of the University and to articulate their vision of a fair and just working environment.
However, since many of those who were instrumental in the development of these groups and organizations eventually retired or transitioned to another institution and were eventually replaced by younger faculty with a different political orientation. Thus, the camaraderie established among those involved in activism died a quick death and gave birth to a social and political indifference from those who apparently severed ties with race consciousness before they completed their first year of graduate school.
Now, sitting in the corner of the very modern eatery, our eyes wandering from one area to another, we became even more cognizant of the modest difference the university’s quest for diversity had made over the years. Clearly, there were dark faces among us, but the problem, however, was that we couldn’t seem to make any eye contact. Absent was that codified understanding of,’ “We’re here in this strange place, but we’re here together,” or the nod of a common history and culture. It was all gone now, and in its place was an impenitent dismissal of any racial connection and cultural consciousness whatsoever. There might as well have been a sign proclaiming, “There is no kinship here.”
One day, in one of my more futile attempts to make a connection, I noticed a black female standing at the pop machine, waiting for water to become a cola, and I decided to approach her. I could tell she was a colleague because she wore her identification badge clamped just above the very detailed pockets of her navy blouse. Pretending I planned to buy a drink, I eased up to the machine and said, “You’d think with these prices, we wouldn’t have a problem with pop machines.” I chuckled and introduced myself. Without turning her head away from the fizzing coke running into her cup, the woman glanced at me out of the corners of her eyes, made a noncommittal “hmm,” and walked away.
This woman’s reaction was more common than not in the academic world and other professional arenas. How many times have we been in a predominantly white setting and looked around to those one or two other dark faces only to be met with a look that implied, “Don’t even think about moving in this direction.” Already the outsider, we worry about what white folks will think if they see more than one of us at a time, especially if we are together. The distance and isolation that many African-Americans sense from one another are probably the result of years of implied and stated indoctrination that said the goal of the black professional should be assimilation to the extent of racial invisibility.
The fear and loathing commonly typical of our professional relationships are, ironically, loaded guns we have pointed towards ourselves. Our marginal positions in many of these institutions have come with years of struggle for not only inclusion, but appropriate recognition of our skills and talents. Now that we have made some inroads into the academy and other professional settings, why not use whatever clout we have obtained to improve the working lives of the group as a whole? Our reluctance to associate and work directly with each other is detrimental to both our individual and group success.
For example, we would benefit significantly if we had people to critique our work objectively, to give us the proper feedback, or to provide encouragement and direction. As we are keenly aware of our isolation and often try to pretend it does not exist, we would serve ourselves better if we dropped the pretense of total self-reliance and embraced the opportunities for collective engagement. Instead of telling ourselves we can make it on our own or we can survive without assistance, we could make our professional life far more gratifying if we understood that ultimately the community is more knowledgeable and powerful than the individual.
What this means, of course, is that even a few directors, administrators or tenured faculty, for example, could provide bridges for others like themselves if they wanted to, or didn’t fear an assumed identification as “one of the blacks.” Even those of a lesser rank or status could make life easier for themselves if they recognized their individual and group value. Embracing each other and accepting our identity as people with a common history and culture should not be obstructions to progress; rather, they should enhance our opportunities to receive the benefits of information-sharing, mentoring each other, and supporting both individual and collective goals. Such group involvement and activities can certainly create opportunities for each other’s advancement. This type of unspoken cultural solidarity lends itself to connectedness, a necessary tool of advancement in the academy, the company, or any other environment we use to define our individual selves.
What, then, is the solution to this dilemma? What has been the obstacle preventing our creating a professional environment conducive to the prosperity and sense of belonging for all of us? The answer begins with overcoming black self-hatred. Some of my students have tried to explain away self-hatred by arguing that it results from centuries of black oppression. However, we have confronted this giant with both individual and group acts of resistance, which clearly represent the determination of people who believed in themselves, demanded equal treatment, and had enough self-love to realize their right to the blessings of this country. The struggle for Civil Rights, for example, was not simply a move by a group of people to fit into the American mainstream. It was the realization of a people’s worth, an affirmation of selfhood, and ultimately a testimony of self-love.
With self-hatred no longer an obstruction to prosperity in the workplace, we can rely on each other as resources in the professional world. We can depend on each other for unscathed objectivity; we can develop effective networks. This time we can come together and create forums for providing information, generating new ideas, and helping each other to develop professionally. We have tried everything else to garner that elusive success the system suggests we can acquire if only we work hard enough and, of course, associate with the right people. Our assumption has been that the right people were perceptibly white people. We have integrated, assimilated, turned against each other, none of which has been of any significant benefit. The one thing we have not tried during these purported days of achieving diversity is coming together as African-American in our respective arenas.
Changing our attitudes towards ourselves as a people will help us effectively address the intellectual and cultural isolation, the aloneness and lack of place characteristic of our current professional life. Our working together on academic projects, helping each other succeed in achieving stated goals, providing support in promotion applications, or simply sharing what we know, are critical to our individual and collective success in the world in which people have fought boldly for our admission. I am not suggesting a return to the days where struggle typified our entire world, but rather that we look at our past and extract from it the sense of collective well-being, good will, and professional prosperity.
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We’ve Lost That Loving Feeling
“We’ve Lost That Loving Feeling: On the Loss of Camaraderie,” in Embracing the Real World: The Black Woman’s Guide to Life after College, Ed. Chaz Kyser, Langston, OK: Seshet Press, 2007.
Not very long ago, my friend and I sat in the new university bistro lamenting the isolation we feel on a campus that now has more African-Americans and other ethnic groups than at any other time in its 132-year history. We reflected on a time—the 70’s, when faculty and staff organizations emerged to address discrimination in hiring, retention, promotions and merit, for examples—key issues in campus life, which became even more critical during the Reagan era. Not only did these groups help to fight our racial battles, they also gave us an opportunity to come together to share information. Furthermore, these activist organizations provided forums for African-Americans to learn and understand the workings of the University and to articulate their vision of a fair and just working environment.
However, since many of those who were instrumental in the development of these groups and organizations eventually retired or transitioned to another institution and were eventually replaced by younger faculty with a different political orientation. Thus, the camaraderie established among those involved in activism died a quick death and gave birth to a social and political indifference from those who apparently severed ties with race consciousness before they completed their first year of graduate school.
Now, sitting in the corner of the very modern eatery, our eyes wandering from one area to another, we became even more cognizant of the modest difference the university’s quest for diversity had made over the years. Clearly, there were dark faces among us, but the problem, however, was that we couldn’t seem to make any eye contact. Absent was that codified understanding of,’ “We’re here in this strange place, but we’re here together,” or the nod of a common history and culture. It was all gone now, and in its place was an impenitent dismissal of any racial connection and cultural consciousness whatsoever. There might as well have been a sign proclaiming, “There is no kinship here.”
One day, in one of my more futile attempts to make a connection, I noticed a black female standing at the pop machine, waiting for water to become a cola, and I decided to approach her. I could tell she was a colleague because she wore her identification badge clamped just above the very detailed pockets of her navy blouse. Pretending I planned to buy a drink, I eased up to the machine and said, “You’d think with these prices, we wouldn’t have a problem with pop machines.” I chuckled and introduced myself. Without turning her head away from the fizzing coke running into her cup, the woman glanced at me out of the corners of her eyes, made a noncommittal “hmm,” and walked away.
This woman’s reaction was more common than not in the academic world and other professional arenas. How many times have we been in a predominantly white setting and looked around to those one or two other dark faces only to be met with a look that implied, “Don’t even think about moving in this direction.” Already the outsider, we worry about what white folks will think if they see more than one of us at a time, especially if we are together. The distance and isolation that many African-Americans sense from one another are probably the result of years of implied and stated indoctrination that said the goal of the black professional should be assimilation to the extent of racial invisibility.
The fear and loathing commonly typical of our professional relationships are, ironically, loaded guns we have pointed towards ourselves. Our marginal positions in many of these institutions have come with years of struggle for not only inclusion, but appropriate recognition of our skills and talents. Now that we have made some inroads into the academy and other professional settings, why not use whatever clout we have obtained to improve the working lives of the group as a whole? Our reluctance to associate and work directly with each other is detrimental to both our individual and group success.
For example, we would benefit significantly if we had people to critique our work objectively, to give us the proper feedback, or to provide encouragement and direction. As we are keenly aware of our isolation and often try to pretend it does not exist, we would serve ourselves better if we dropped the pretense of total self-reliance and embraced the opportunities for collective engagement. Instead of telling ourselves we can make it on our own or we can survive without assistance, we could make our professional life far more gratifying if we understood that ultimately the community is more knowledgeable and powerful than the individual.
What this means, of course, is that even a few directors, administrators or tenured faculty, for example, could provide bridges for others like themselves if they wanted to, or didn’t fear an assumed identification as “one of the blacks.” Even those of a lesser rank or status could make life easier for themselves if they recognized their individual and group value. Embracing each other and accepting our identity as people with a common history and culture should not be obstructions to progress; rather, they should enhance our opportunities to receive the benefits of information-sharing, mentoring each other, and supporting both individual and collective goals. Such group involvement and activities can certainly create opportunities for each other’s advancement. This type of unspoken cultural solidarity lends itself to connectedness, a necessary tool of advancement in the academy, the company, or any other environment we use to define our individual selves.
What, then, is the solution to this dilemma? What has been the obstacle preventing our creating a professional environment conducive to the prosperity and sense of belonging for all of us? The answer begins with overcoming black self-hatred. Some of my students have tried to explain away self-hatred by arguing that it results from centuries of black oppression. However, we have confronted this giant with both individual and group acts of resistance, which clearly represent the determination of people who believed in themselves, demanded equal treatment, and had enough self-love to realize their right to the blessings of this country. The struggle for Civil Rights, for example, was not simply a move by a group of people to fit into the American mainstream. It was the realization of a people’s worth, an affirmation of selfhood, and ultimately a testimony of self-love.
With self-hatred no longer an obstruction to prosperity in the workplace, we can rely on each other as resources in the professional world. We can depend on each other for unscathed objectivity; we can develop effective networks. This time we can come together and create forums for providing information, generating new ideas, and helping each other to develop professionally. We have tried everything else to garner that elusive success the system suggests we can acquire if only we work hard enough and, of course, associate with the right people. Our assumption has been that the right people were perceptibly white people. We have integrated, assimilated, turned against each other, none of which has been of any significant benefit. The one thing we have not tried during these purported days of achieving diversity is coming together as African-American in our respective arenas.
Changing our attitudes towards ourselves as a people will help us effectively address the intellectual and cultural isolation, the aloneness and lack of place characteristic of our current professional life. Our working together on academic projects, helping each other succeed in achieving stated goals, providing support in promotion applications, or simply sharing what we know, are critical to our individual and collective success in the world in which people have fought boldly for our admission. I am not suggesting a return to the days where struggle typified our entire world, but rather that we look at our past and extract from it the sense of collective well-being, good will, and professional prosperity.