Good Job is Slate’s advice column on work. Have a workplace problem big or small? Send it to Laura Helmuth and Doree Shafrir here. It’s anonymous!
Dear Good Job,
I am a teacher. Several very racist teachers work in my school. Last year, two white teachers used the N-word while speaking with students, another teacher had the N-word written on their door during Black History Month (purposefully). We have a history teacher who thinks (and has said to students!) that Black people need to “get over” slavery. We have Trump supporters who hang signs about the importance of borders in their classrooms. My administration will do nothing about this. They coddle the racists and keep their heads down.
Most of our students are Black and Latino. I myself am a Black educator and have fielded so many complaints and feelings of genuine horror or confusion from students who are hearing racist, dehumanizing, and horrible things from their teachers who are supposed to care for them. I am disgusted by these colleagues. However, they are my co-workers and I have a leadership position at my job. Some of the worst offenders drop by often to chat with me about their concerns (it is my job to deal with them); we see each other daily.
I don’t know how to deal with these people. I dislike them intensely, but I fake collegiality to make it through the day. This makes me feel like a hypocrite and a fraud. Why should I be nice to people who I think are harming children? Am I compromising my own morals to “fit in” and make my life easier? If this were not at work, I’d be banging pots and pans and telling them exactly how I feel. I want to show up for my students and be honest, but I know that the fallout will be intense, and that my racist co-workers would be confused by a seemingly sudden attitude shift. I also understand that in life, my students will meet people who are racist, xenophobic, homophobic, etc. and that I can’t prevent that from happening … but these are their teachers and they are young and impressionable. How can I stand up for what I believe in, manage my professional relationships at work, and support my kids?
—Yes, That’s Racist
Dear Yes,
I’m so sorry you and your students are stuck in a school system that tolerates and empowers racists. Thank you for listening to the students who come to you and affirming that they are right to be confused and horrified. Your encouragement now could echo throughout their adulthoods—research shows that having just one caring adult in their lives can help a child thrive even in a dysfunctional environment.
The fact that your school employs at least three racist teachers and doesn’t act decisively when another teacher experiences racist vandalism shows that the problem is at a scale that requires action. That action doesn’t necessarily have to come from you, or not just from you alone, but you and other people in your school community do have some options.
Regardless of how you decide to proceed, the first step is documentation. Whether you witness discrimination yourself or hear about it from a student or another teacher, write an account of what you know and share it with your human resources department. Depending on how they respond, you may choose to escalate by sharing the information with your principal. You could bring the issue to your union. You could complain to the school board. You could encourage students or their parents to document what they’ve experienced and speak out to administrators and school board members as well. At each step, clearly detail the discrimination, even if you’re not the victim and it’s second-hand, and keep copies for yourself.
Employers are required by federal civil rights laws to protect employees from racial harassment. Any teachers who have been subject to harassment could file a complaint with the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission. (While the EEOC has been in the news lately for being undermined by the Trump administration, you are still protected by federal law.) The EEOC doesn’t cover students, but Title VI of the Civil Rights Act protects anyone at institutions that receive federal funding, which most schools do. “Schools have an obligation to protect students from harassment,” said Jake Knanishu, an attorney with Radford Scott LLP, an employment law firm in Atlanta.
You would have additional legal protections in some states, such as California and New York. But regardless of what state you live in, federal civil rights laws protect teachers from retaliation for reporting discrimination, which the National Education Association explains in more detail here. “She is going to be protected as long as she has a reasonable, good-faith belief that what she is opposing is illegal,” Knanishu said, based on a synopsis of your letter. “And obviously with such blatant and virulent harassment, she would have a reasonable basis.”
Another option is to share what you know with local journalists or with reporters at national newspapers who cover education. You can ask to speak with them on condition of anonymity for fear of retaliation.
None of this is easy, and it shouldn’t be on you to protect your colleagues and your students from racism. You mentioned that you have a leadership role in the school, so you might consider using your position to build alliances with like-minded teachers and pressure the racist ones to suppress their bigotry. Talk to the non-racist teachers about how you collectively could take on the racist-coddling administration. The racism at your school may get more blatant now that bigots feel even more politically empowered. This is a good time to build networks of people you can trust.
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Dear Good Job,
To put it plainly: My boss is off-putting. When I share who my boss is at industry events, I get pitying remarks. My husband works at a partner company in the same industry but in a different field, and when someone says my boss’s name, they speak poorly of her.
I can’t disagree with their complaints, but I get on with her just fine. I get on with most people just fine, even those who I know talk about me behind my back. (I’m a stickler for the rules, and don’t really care if these people are my friends. I only care if they are disrespectful to my face. My work speaks for itself and we’re a highly regulated industry where any paperwork misstep can cost a whole department their bonuses for multiple years.) But I would like to minimize the shit-talking—of everyone!
It’s fine to say, “This is Jake and Rob’s project so brace yourself for last-minute changes” because that’s reality. It’s the nature of their accounts. Complaining about the existence of these accounts is blowing off steam and not personal, and my assistants have been very helpful in identifying pain points and compliance issues. But, “Deb is really on a tear today, isn’t she?” just seems gossipy in a way that I don’t want to participate in—even when Deb is totally on a tear.
Ideas for shutting down negative commentary in a professional way? I don’t want to seem like I’m disagreeing (I’m not) but I also want to be pretty neutral. After all, this person is treating me and my assistants very well and is in charge of our raises and bonuses. But she is angering everyone around me in a way that it might be beneficial to obliquely acknowledge if I want to move up in my career. Help!
—If You Can’t Say Anything Nice, Leave Me Out of It
Dear Nice,
Congratulations on maintaining a successful working relationship with your difficult boss. That can’t be easy. I hope when your boss, Deb, goes on a tear, she doesn’t direct it at you. But witnessing her tear into other people must be unpleasant, even for the most level-headed and agreeable person.
The colleagues who gossip about her trust you enough to know they can speak to you safely. That’s a compliment, in its own weird and unwanted way. To these colleagues, try a short reply that doesn’t prolong the conversation. A shrug or eye-roll would do it, or a quick, “She gets stuff done” or “I wish I could help.” Then shift the conversation to something else entirely. Ask about the weather, what they’ve been cooking, or if they’ve been reading any good books lately.
The colleagues who speak behind your back are a different problem. They may well be irritated by anyone who goes by the rules. Or they may think of you as Difficult Deb’s sidekick and assume you agree with her way of doing business. It’s fine to ignore them, as you’re doing. If you want to improve your relationships with them, you can ask whoever told you what these colleagues said about you (I’m assuming you didn’t overhear it) to let the gossipers know they can come to you directly. Or you can tell them yourself that you hear they have some concerns. Say you understand that working here can have its challenges (with an optional eye-roll or raised eyebrows to acknowledge the unspoken off-putting-ness), but that you and your assistants have a good record of easing pain points when you learn about them. Tell these colleagues you are open to discussing any problems at work so you can solve them together.
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Dear Good Job,
I cannot stand a lot of the rules of “professionalism.” They all seem so arbitrary! Why does one expensive t-shirt count as business casual and another, cheaper one doesn’t when the only difference is fabric, which isn’t even visually obvious? Why do you have to pretend to want a job for anything other than a paycheck? Why does it matter whether or not I have tattoos, piercings, or dyed hair? How do I navigate the work world when every time someone says the word “professional” I want to scream about how discriminatory against women, POC, queer, poor, and disabled people these arbitrary rules are? Just say “level-headed” or “courteous” because nine times out of ten, one or both of those seem to cover what people actually want to say when they say “professional”! And that last one out of ten is always “follows these arbitrary rules that do nothing to actually improve a workplace.”
—Professional Is a Bigot’s Complaint
Dear Don’t-Say-Professional,
You are absolutely right. “Professional” is one of those coded words that reinforces bigotry and discrimination. Professionalism is also central to the notion of “cultural fit.” A ton of research has been conducted using identical resumes aside from clues to an applicant’s race, gender, age, or class. Researchers send these resumes out to companies and then analyze which resumes get interview requests. The results overwhelmingly show pervasive biases. Some companies have the gall to excuse their preference for an applicant who was in, say, the sailing club rather than track and field by saying the former is a better cultural fit. It’s another example of how bias harms the bigots, because Ms. Relay Team had to work much harder and smarter than Mr. Yacht Rock to achieve the same resume, and that kind of determination would make her a great hire.
Anyway, what can we do about it? There are some legal remedies. Twenty-four states have passed the CROWN Act, which prohibits discrimination based on hair style, because some employers claimed that afros or dreadlocks are “unprofessional.” But we can also, collectively, challenge cultural expectations. You can support your colleagues who don’t look, dress, act, or speak like the dominant group. They’re more likely to be spoken over or ignored in meetings, so praise and amplify their ideas: “Brad, if I could interrupt you for a second, Janelle made a great point and I’d like to hear more.” You could push the boundaries yourself in how you interpret your workplace’s dress code or unspoken rules about appearance. You could ask your human resources department to provide anti-bias training (which isn’t enough, but can be a start). If you hear someone using the word “professional,” ask them if they know the term has historically been used to exclude people. They might not know—people are lousy at recognizing biases—and good people appreciate the chance to learn.
—Laura
Classic Prudie
I have a friend, “Anne,” that I’ve known since sixth grade. We were amazing friends for many years, and then I moved away. Our relationship has gone from close to less- close over the years. It got worse after she got married and had a child. I do not consider someone a close friend if they only text me every couple of months and only see me a few times a year. She has no idea what’s going on in my life anymore and vice versa. I know she considers me to still be a close friend, though, because she’s mentioned being fine with the infrequent contact and has recently talked about being a bridesmaid in a hypothetical wedding I might have had with my ex. Well, my ex and I had a terrible break up. I had saved up a ton of vacation days and so I planned a huge trip…