I grew up surrounded by the cornfields of West-Central Illinois. Well, corn and soybean fields if we’re being technical. The corn raised me, but my birthplace is St. Louis, MO. There couldn’t be two places more different than one another, and I often felt those differences as a young, Black queer kid trying to navigate the predominately white area. I’ve heard it all before and had many awkward encounters around race, culture, etc. “Can I touch your hair? Is it real?” “You’re not like other Black people.” “You’re so articulate.” I learned to pick my battles at a young age, but that was before 2020.
When the pandemic began, I was a newly licensed clinician, keenly aware that I often saw the world differently from those around me. After the murders of Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, and George Floyd, I watched as my colleagues and community tried to grapple with the news coverage.
Slowly, statements around the region began to roll out – awkwardly phrased and clunky. Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI), Black Lives Matter, and Critical Race Theory were new to many and misunderstood by most.
One thing led to another and, suddenly, I was an advisor to white executives in the community who’d never had to examine their relationship with power, class, and/or racism. It was difficult for them to understand that having teams comprised of different people, with varying lived experiences, and ways of thinking was the answer to most of their issues around employee experience, organizational change, and customer satisfaction.
The awkward encounters from my childhood continued into adulthood in the form of those same executives repeating racial slurs and enough microaggressions to make your head spin. The work began to tire me. It got heavy.
During this time, I read Weathering by Dr. Arlene T. Geronimus, and I was astounded. She defines weathering as: “a process that encompasses the physiological effects of living in marginalized communities that bear the brunt of racial, ethnic, religious, and class discrimination.”
Dr. Geronimus goes on to say, “Weathering is not measured in number of steps walked, cigarettes smoked, opioids used, alcohol drunk, or calories eaten. It’s not primarily measured by your years of education, the size of your paycheck, or your bank balance. It’s not essentially about emotional despair, either. Weathering is about hopeful, hardworking, responsible, skilled, and resilient people dying from the physical toll of constant stress on their bodies, paying with their health because they live in a rigged, degrading, and exploitative system.”
I was weathered by the number of times I was told to assume positive intent, give grace, and show patience to executives who struggled to understand experiences outside their own – who struggled to take guidance from someone who didn’t look like them, didn’t speak like them, and didn’t feel the most comfortable at community events at the local country club.
It was James Baldwin who said, “If I love you, I have to make you conscious of the things you don’t see.” He was speaking about the role of the artist, but I believe it extends far beyond artists – to educators, community leaders, elected officials, among others, and I live by those words.
I am not a DEI hire, and the region where I grew up is an excellent example of why DEI is necessary.
Macy Ferguson-Smith is a doctoral candidate at Western Illinois University.
The opinions expressed are not necessarily those of the university or TSPR.
Diverse viewpoints are welcomed and encouraged.