The Only One: Being Black in the White Working World

In fourth grade I sat in the back of the class with the other girls in our pressed plaid uniforms. We passed notes and giggled, while our teacher droned on and on at the front of the room, a ruler in one hand and a Kleenex in the other.

One spring day, Mrs. Shapiro began a new chapter in our history book, the one on slavery. I'd been dreading this chapter. I knew it was coming, and I knew about slavery; my parents had told me. One by one, as Mrs. Shapiro spoke, everyone in the class turned eyes away from her to peer at me, sheepishly -- as though they were seeing me for the first time, as if I hadn't played tag and done homework and taken the bus with these kids all year. Mrs. Shapiro snapped her fingers. Their little heads whipped back into place, facing forward.

I was the Only One. The first black person some of them had ever had a chance to get to know up close.

It was the first time I was aware that others were aware that I was the only black kid in the middle school. I was the point of reference. Some of them liked me because I was black. Some of them didn't like me because I was black. For some of them, it didn't even matter.

Not much has changed as I write this. I am still the Only One. I am the lone black employee in my workplace, in a city full of ethnic culture and diversity. At my last job, where close to 300 employees worked, I was one of a few African-Americans, excluding the janitorial staff. None of us worked together. I looked forward to making photocopies so I could chat for five minutes with Dorothy at the front desk. When we spoke it was briefly, and in hushed tones. We were hyper-aware of our positions. At large department meetings, I was the only black person, sometimes the only person of color, in the room.

In every position I've held, I've felt valued for my qualifications, and highly prized for being black in a sea of whiteness. I've sometimes felt like what James Baldwin once described as the fly in the buttermilk. Token and expendable. I am constantly aware of my loneness, of how I am being treated, of how I am treating others and how I am perceived.

There are others like me, white-collar and blue-collar workers who are single-handedly diversifying our workplaces and classrooms. The receptionist at the law firm, the executive shot-caller, the teacher at a predominantly white school, the school administrator, the surgeon.

I talked recently with several black women who are also "Only Ones" in workplaces taking baby steps toward diversification. I discovered that being the "Only One" is a balancing act that takes practice. Being an "Only One" leaves you without a witness if anything racist happens. Back in the day, being an Only One was more likely to get you killed, or at least framed. These days, being an Only One may be considered a diversity success.

But it leaves us "Only Ones" with a challenge: We must integrate without compromising ourselves or our beliefs. We must retain our cultural selves and run the risk of scaring the white folks we work with and for. We must constantly filter our experiences, screening for racism in each moment, while still being a team player. We must be able to culturally navigate both worlds, working side-by-side with folks who are only vested in their own white world. We must teach tolerance or suffer being misunderstood. We must put up with ignorant comments, always picking our battles. We must reach out to other people of color for reality checks. We must prove that we are more than a dark body the white company brings in to sit behind a desk. And we must perform twice as well as our peers and look twice as good doing it.

Always with a smile and always with flair. No exceptions.

I'm used to being the Only One, so at this point in my professional life it's almost second nature. Still, it often leaves me feeling numb, defeated. I go home at times exhausted from the effort. I feel cheated out of being who I am in my workplace, where I spend nearly half my waking life. Other "Only Ones" experience being "Only Ones" a little differently.