My bosses wanted to demean a Black woman, but I changed the narrative

“You’re strong,” she responded immediately after introducing myself. I questioned how a newly appointed faculty member in the College of Communication and Information at the University of Kentucky could determine my strength after I only stated my name.

A week prior, one of my supervisors repeatedly asked me to sit at his assistant’s desk and answer the phone while she was on extended leave. I explained I didn’t have access to her computer and wouldn’t be able to complete a time sensitive project. He replied someone needed to sit at her desk. Another staff member in the office stated he couldn’t imagine anyone better than me to fill that role.

Not wanting to appear insubordinate, I sat at the assistant’s desk. I’d retrieved my iPad from my office to complete the project, but couldn’t download the necessary software. I explained to my supervisor if I failed to meet the deadline, the provost would contact the dean stating our department wasn’t in compliance. He incredulously remarked, “Oh, so you have priorities.”

His comment offended and infuriated me. As the director of student and multicultural affairs with responsibilities ranging from recruitment, student programming, and diversity initiatives, why wouldn’t I have priorities?

Black women are often treated as incompetent regardless of our title or how many degrees we possess. We are expected to perform tasks that aren’t part of our job responsibilities and are paid significantly less than our white male counterparts, which adversely affects our livelihood.

Civil rights activist Malcolm X delivered a speech in Los Angeles in 1962 where he said: “The most disrespected person in America is the Black woman. The most unprotected person in America is the Black woman. The most neglected person in America is the Black woman.” Sadly, his words still resonate today, especially for Black women working in environments where diversity is sorely lacking.

I contacted the chief diversity officer at one of UK’s benchmark institutions regarding the faculty member who referred to me as strong. He said, “It is code for a Black woman who does not know her place.”

As the only Black woman in my department, I was demeaned and subjected to microaggressions. After presenting a written, detailed account of numerous instances where I was discriminated against, my complaint was submitted to UK’s Office of Institutional Equity and Equal Opportunity for an internal investigation. The investigation did not find evidence of discrimination.

The harassment intensified after the investigation ended. Another supervisor remarked I wasn’t aware of how I came across to her colleagues. How often are Black women seen as a threat and perceived as hostile when attempting to use our voice? We find ourselves in highly toxic environments that reinforce white culture and if we challenge that status quo, we’re labeled as angry. Ironically, my supervisor failed to recognize my anger was a natural response to how she and her colleagues harassed me.

My position was eliminated under the guise of budget cuts, but I knew it was retaliation for speaking out. The elimination of my job was intended to strip me of my financial security and dignity, but I decided to utilize my savings and inheritance to travel the world, learn a new hobby, and forge a career path outside of academe.

As I inhaled the fresh, crisp air of the snow-covered Swiss Alps, I found the peace that eluded me at UK. Although I question UK’s commitment to inclusion, I viewed diversity with a new set of eyes as I engaged in conversation about race with a young Japanese male and a Black Parisian man on a Tokyo subway. I felt degraded as a Black woman at UK, but walking along the cobbled streets of Annecy, I felt celebrated as a French man cast an admiring glance.

After leaving UK, I purchased a digital camera, joined several photography groups, and won numerous awards, including the Lexington Creative Camera Club’s beginning photographer of the year. My photos have been exhibited in galleries and the first framed picture I sold is of a sunrise at the Tybee Island pier titled apropos “New Horizons.”

I now write for two local magazines, where I use my voice to bring attention to things that are pertinent to the Black community: Racial injustice; systemic racism; economic, health, and educational inequity; and Black entrepreneurs, educators, and individuals who are positively impacting our communities. I completed my first manuscript—a faith inspired book that illustrates how to persevere through life’s craggy terrains—that will be published late spring.

We’re at a historical moment in our country where we’ve elected the first Black, Asian woman as vice-president, but we must reserve that same level of respect for all women who identify as BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, and People of Color).

Though the faculty member who called me strong meant to demean, I changed the narrative. I’m strong because I am resilient in the face of adversity. I’m strong because when they attempted to silence me, I found an outlet to speak. I’m strong because what was intended to break me strengthened me instead.

Lisa A. Brown is a freelance writer, photographer, world traveler, and author in Lexington.

This story was originally published February 19, 2021 at 10:07 AM.