The Invisible Black Woman

So I got ready to meet with my Professor to discuss The Incident. We agreed to meet at 3 that afternoon. Minutes to 3, I still didn’t have a Zoom link to join, so I messaged the professor to ask him about it. I gotta say, it did not evoke much confidence. He said he was running late and would be sending it shortly.

At 5 after 3, we jumped on a Zoom. We went through the obligatory pleasantries and then started chatting about the issue at hand.

“So, what do you want to talk about?”

Gee, I wonder what it is I want to talk about today. *Suppresses eyeroll*

“Thanks, Professor, for agreeing to meet with me. Yes, I have some concerns about the group dynamics and my academic standing in this class.”

“So what happened exactly? What did I walk into?”

“Well, you heard most of it. I’m actually glad you were able to see what took place. Ken was upset because I wasn’t on camera. I have some health issues and I just needed to stretch and move around a bit. I didn’t think it would be a problem.”

He looked incredulous, probably about as incredulous as I did when the outburst happened, that that is what caused it.

I misread who the incredulity was directed at.

“I am worried that this will affect my grade and it hasn’t exactly been smooth sailing before this, during our separate group meetings.”

We met every week outside of class to work on our class project. Those were the longest meetings of my life. Not only was I overruled, but most times, I would suggest something, the call would go quiet, then someone else would suggest the very thing I suggested and everyone would be in full agreement. It was maddening. To add insult to injury, the day everyone but me agreed to meet was the day I was the least in favor of. It didn’t matter though. The Brofecta agreed and that’s all there was to it. Yes, I was the only female in the group and no, I won’t apologize for calling out the chauvinist, sexist elephant in the room.

The best part? One teammate was damn-near never able to attend. They were okay with it though, especially Ken. Nearly every day before we met we’d get a message of woe in the group chat as to why he couldn’t meet on the day everyone agreed to meet.

“Apologies for missing the first meeting…”

Y’all, he couldn’t even make the first meeting we held.

“No worries.”

But I get yelled at for being off camera. Mmkay.

“I’m just now leaving work … *crying face emoji*”

“Get some rest, Brother.”

Every. Single. Time. This man had a reason for not attending our agreed-upon team meeting. And this is no exaggeration. The above are snippets from the group chat from hell I was in the entire semester.

I mentioned this to the professor—that one of our classmates wasn’t even attending the sessions we agreed to. His response?

“Well, if that’s happening, that would be unfortunate.”

Yes, because I would have reason to make that up.

“I’m happy to provide you the recordings from the Zoom. You’ll be able to clearly see he’s not present.”

Crickets, y’all. So I pressed.

“The dynamics in this group aren’t good, and I’m just concerned.”

Y’all, he threw his hands up—literally.

“Well, what is it that you want me to do, exactly? You don’t want me to talk them to them, do you?”

I should probably mention at this juncture that not only was this man a professor, but he was a department chair. For a school that is supposed to champion diversity, equity, and inclusion. For a sought-after program in a well-ranked school.

Jesus, give me strength.

I was speechless. Utterly speechless.

“I mean, you were off camera.”

And there it was. In one single statement, he managed to make it clear to me that this was entirely my fault. If I was looking for anyone to blame, I should look in the mirror. And that’s when I realized that my meeting with him was absolutely pointless (for the most part).

It’s one thing to suspect or believe people are a way that they are, and to shrug it off because you realize that your past and current experiences can often color how you see the world. So you brush it aside and give folks the benefit of the doubt. You look for the good and never paint the next person with the brush of those who came before that treated you like crap simply for being who you were.

I hung my head down in disappointment and sadness. Here I was, going to the one person who I thought could help and not only did he feign helplessness, he all but dissuaded me from suggesting that he speak up on my behalf.

So I didn’t.

That night, I texted my classmate everything that happened. He was livid on my behalf. He encouraged me to report him to the department chair. I fully snorted at the irony that I would be reporting the professor to himself. So instead, I wrote a letter. A letter I never sent because I was afraid it would put my grade for that class in jeopardy. Here’s what I wrote:

Thanks, Professor, for your time today.

I just wanted to recap our discussion regarding my concerns. 

As noted in our call today, I have concerns about team dynamics and our progress in the team project. I know you posed the question to me of what I would like you to do about it and frankly, I’m unsure. But I do feel like overall, the dynamics of the group are not positive, respectful, or collaborative.

To your note that direct communication works best, I have noted that I have attempted to do so, to no avail.

Regarding my statement that the latest assignment did not align with the outlined instructions, you indicated you are more concerned with the sources we selected than us adhering to the outline, so I will not resubmit a revised document.

I noted that I was afraid to submit an honest peer evaluation on my team members because of risk of retaliation. You noted that this doesn’t help you. While I can appreciate my decision to do so was not helpful to you, I hope you can understand my hesitancy to do so—especially since you witnessed Ken’s outburst during our class session.

With respect to my informing you that Paul has been absent for most of the group meetings and has contributed little, you noted that it would be disappointing if that is the case. I’m happy to provide you the team recordings should you wish to confirm the veracity of my statement.

You made a comment about me being off camera, which appeared to imply that I am to blame for what I’m currently experiencing. I would hope that as long as I am engaged with my team and contributing, that my being off camera does not condone their behavior.

To my comment that my comments or concerns are dismissed or ignored by my classmates, as evidenced by the numerous emails that go unanswered, you again asked what I would like you to do about it.

I am sorry if you feel like I am wasting your time bringing this to your attention, as that certainly was not my intent. I did think you’d want to know if there are things happening in your classes that make any student feel less than or ostracized, since I don’t believe this aligns with the core values of this university. 

I thank you for your time just the same.

I grinned and bore it and made it all the way through the semester. And, in a twist that surprised no one, when it came time to do peer evaluations, I got the following message from my professor.

You may see your [grade] total is about 92.5.  The peer review no doubt impacted this, and as we discussed, there are multiple views to the circumstances. However, given the grade, I rounded up to reach the minimal grade for a high pass to 93.

My response?

I rated my teammates on the merits of their performance, not on whether I personally had a good rapport with them. Thank you for being a fair arbiter.

If I’m being honest, though, I gave them a blanket rating because I was worried I would be seen as the “difficult woman” or that it would somehow backfire. Oh, the irony of my choice.

Yes, the Brofecta decided to give me a bad rating, based purely on the fact they didn’t like me, the victim. The one who showed up for our group meetings, actually contributed to the project. There were parts of the project that Paul (the MIA fellow) never contributed to, and the other two pitched in to cover for him. But nope, I’m the one who got the bad peer evaluation. And so for no other reason other than to put on record what took place and protect myself, I was glad I met with the professor and grateful I never sent the letter.

I had to laugh reading his note about “there are multiple views to the circumstances” when he was there to witness the second explosion by Ken. If victim blaming were a person, I’m looking at you, Professor.

It took me a while to shake off the stench, the hurt, and the outrage of that semester. And honestly, the story itself has more layers and twists and turns than I have time to get into right now. This is a very distilled and abbreviated version, but I might have to make this a whole story arc one day.

I usually try to end the in-between episodes that don’t post on Saturdays with some lesson or takeaway. So for this hot a$$ mess of a trip down Hellish Memory Lane, here’s what I got.

If you identify with the douchebag of this story, or if you think the douchebag is me, I got nothing for you. See yourself all the way out. I truly wish you enlightenment someday, but it’s not my job or responsibility to educate you on why your thinking is flawed. Byeeeeeeeee!

If you are in a position of power and have had someone have the courage to speak up about a situation where they were verbally assaulted or worse, please don’t dismiss them or victim blame. Don’t shirk off your obligation and responsibility because you don’t want to deal with the situation at hand. To do otherwise is reckless.

If you are outraged about what I shared but have never experienced the above, please be there for those who come to you for help, advice, or support. I am grateful for all the people that were in my corner and who made me feel protected despite others that didn’t.

If you’ve been on the receiving end of a similar situation, I’m sorry. I am so sorry. You didn’t deserve that. There’s no amount of sassy, passionate, assertive, direct, “tell it like it is,” and every other BS characteristic that people like to don on us for daring to speak up that justifies you being attacked. Wrong is wrong. Women experience this level of foolishness on the daily. Black women? Well, let’s just say that if I had a nickel for every time I experienced this level of treatment, I would be quite wealthy.

But back to the point at hand: to all my bonafide, brave, bold, beautiful, Black women—and don’t you dare clutch your invisible pearls; you see the name of the blog!—don’t stop speaking truth to power because of those that come along that try to make you believe that you asked for this somehow. You are enough. You are amazing. You are brilliant. You are needed. And most of all, I say the following to you as much as I say it to myself, it was NOT your fault.

Until the next time, I wish for you nothing but sunshine, rainbows, and unicorns, which are no less fictitious and magical than the perfect-just-the-way-God-made-you creature you are and have always been.

Don’t ever change.