How "Professionalism" Is Inherently Racist
- Ishaa Dhamne
- Nov 14, 2020
- 3 min read
When we think about professionalism in the workplace, we often tend to think about a certain image. This image is that of a professional who is well-groomed, polite and personable. In fact, when you google the term “professionalism,” one of the first results that pops up is “a neat appearance.” On the surface, this does not seem like an issue. When someone represents a company or an organization, it is natural that they would be expected to uphold certain standards. However, a great deal of the conversation surrounding professionalism is centered around people who are white, males, or both.
Looking at the upper level management of most companies in the United States, it is easy to see that most of these roles are filled by white men. Even when a woman has been able to break that glass ceiling and secure herself one of these coveted positions, chances are that this woman is white. People of color, with various different backgrounds, religions and cultures, are incredibly underrepresented in the professional world, regardless of the industry. There are several reasons for this, including systemic racism and a lack of representation. However, one reason that goes relatively unnoticed is these whitewashed standards of professionalism we have in place. During my freshman year of high school, I would straighten my hair almost every day. My hair is frizzy, wavy, and thick, and I was almost embarrassed by it. I saw all of the older girls in leadership positions with perfectly straight, “tame” hair and I felt like I had to fit that mold. I hated my dark skin because I didn’t think it was beautiful or professional. As a young 15- to 16-year-old girl, I was extremely susceptible to these stereotypes and expectations of what a professional woman is supposed to look like. I felt discouraged by the fact that all of these women that I looked up to looked nothing like me -- or rather, I looked nothing like them.
Just this September, the CROWN Act was passed by the House of Representatives. This act forbids discrimination at work or school based on their natural or protective hairstyles. This issue overwhelmingly affects Black women, who have been told that their natural hair is “unprofessional.” As reported by Dove’s CROWN Research Study, Black women are 50% more likely to be sent home for the way they wear their hair. Dove’s parent company, Unilever, also reported that approximately 80% of Black women surveyed said that they had changed their natural hair to better fit into a corporate setting. Black women specifically face this challenge in the workplace, where their hair texture and look are significantly different from that of white or non-Black peoples’, and the way that these women are treated because of their natural hair is nothing short of detrimental.
Apart from race, there are several other factors that can lead to women in the workplace being seen as unprofessional. One such factor is religion. There have been a dishearteningly large number of cases in which Muslim women have been discriminated against or even attacked at work due to their hijab, which is a religious garment. Although there are laws in place to prevent this kind of religious discrimination, our modern day ideas of professionalism do not typically consider women of other faiths. I have recently started wearing a bindi, which is a Hindu religious symbol. My family has expressed concerns over whether or not I would be taken seriously if I choose to wear my bindi in a professional setting, and I have contemplated the same thing. Is it seen as “professional” for me to wear a black dot between my eyebrows? If not, why not? My religion is as valid and important as anyone else’s.
Despite the protections that are included in our Constitution and our laws, professionalism is overwhelmingly viewed from the perspective of a white professional. Especially when it comes to women, who are already underestimated and underrepresented, it is essential to note that women of color bear the largest part of the burden of “looking professional.” While the younger version of myself may have straightened her hair or avoided Hindu symbols in the workplace, I know who I am today. I hope that other women can accept themselves for all their different qualities and beliefs. My sincerest wish is that we stop defining professionalism in the way that we define it right now: I may not look like most professional women in the United States, but I won’t get rid of my bindi or my curls.
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