Posted on October 9th, 2024

A Q&A with psychologist Kia-Rai Prewitt, PhD

Despite comprising nearly 7% of the U.S. workforce, only four Black women have ever led a Fortune 500 company. A confluence of racial and gender biases can hinder the advancement of women of color in the workplace by perpetuating negative racial stereotypes and discriminatory outcomes. Research shows that Black female leaders are held to different and higher standards than white women and leaders of other racial identities.

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To better understand the enduring effects of racial and gender biases that lead to the marginalization of Black women in the workplace, we asked Cleveland Clinic psychologist Kia-Rai Prewitt, PhD, for her perspective. Here, she discusses ways to build an inclusive organizational culture and explains how the dual challenges of racism and sexism can derail the careers of aspiring Black leaders.

Q. How do negative stereotypes prevent Black women from thriving in the workplace?

A. Institutional racism, including stereotyping, contributes to a sense of powerlessness that can cause substantial stress and anxiety and make employees feel both physically and emotionally unsafe. The myth of the hypersensitive, angry Black woman is an especially persistent and problematic gendered stereotype. Anger is a natural emotion, of course – but women of color who show signs of unhappiness or unrest are often perceived as hostile, aggressive or ill-tempered. In fact, research shows that when anger is displayed by a Black employee, it’s more likely to be attributed to a personal character flaw rather than any external factor.

A single justified complaint, for example, may be inflated or dismissed – “Oh, she’s always complaining – which can be incredibly invalidating. This dynamic can also lead to stereotype threat, which makes individuals worry about confirming negative stereotypes about their social group. This can create self-fulfilling prophecy that can cause a person’s academic or professional performance to suffer.

Unfortunately, racist stereotypes can make Black women feel like they’ve got to tiptoe through life. We’re already fighting a bias that we don't belong in the C-suite – that we're not smart enough – and then we’re led to believe that if we truly express ourselves, we’ll be penalized.

It’s worth noting that even well-meaning colleagues can undermine our success at work. A Black woman may, for example, describe a problem during a private conversation with a coworker. Hoping to make her feel better, that colleague may say something as innocuous as, “Don’t worry about it” or “I wouldn’t take it personally,” but those kinds of comments can be grossly invalidating. A more helpful response might be, "I'm really sorry that happened. What can I do to support you?"

I once worked with someone who mispronounced my name during a meeting. When I corrected him, he told me how I pronounced it didn’t matter. When thinking about how to handle the situation, I found myself in a dilemma. If I responded in a way that felt right, I knew I’d probably be perceived as unprofessional and angry – but if I said nothing, I’d feel invisible. This is a common trap for women of color.

Q. In what ways does discrimination apply to Black women's appearance, too?

For generations, natural Black hairstyles have been labeled as unprofessional. Fortunately, that’s beginning to change – but most of us have been taught that we will be better received if we conform and eliminate the texture of our hair by applying straighteners. No one should feel they have to choose between their hair and professional advancement.

Until 2021, Black women in the U.S. Army weren’t permitted to wear protective hairstyles like braids or cornrows – a restriction that prevented many of them from performing comfortably. For decades, in fact, the terms “matted and unkempt” were used in military grooming guidelines to describe popular Black hairstyles.

In addition to the bias, women of color frequently feel objectified, particularly in terms of how we dress and wear our hair. It’s not uncommon for people to invade our space and ask intrusive questions like "Is that your real hair?” or “Can I touch it?"

In 2019, a piece of legislation called the C.R.O.W.N. Act was created to protect against race-based hair discrimination. Although the law has been passed in 24 states, we – as a society – still have a long way to go, but I’m hopeful that movements like this one will increase awareness about how Black women have been penalized in the workplace.

Q. As a Black woman, were you prepared for the discrimination you’d eventually face when starting your own career?

A. Studies show that the more education you have and the higher the position you hold, the more likely you are to experience race-related microaggressions. It goes without saying: Black women are not making this stuff up. Discrimination is on full display in workplaces across America.

Black folks have built survival skills to deal with generational trauma. Although a lot of us have learned to persevere, the battle wounds can cause permanent scars. Even those of us who’ve heard cautionary tales from other women in our family, community or church are often unprepared for real-world racism. You might grow up understanding that racism could affect you, but it’s still a shock when it does.

I was born and raised in Chicago and attended Vanderpoel, a public magnet school, where most of the students were Black. I also attended a Black church, so as a child, I thought Black people were the majority in this country. By junior high, my family had moved to a mostly white suburb. Although I learned quickly that I was in the minority, I settled in with relative ease. I didn’t experience culture shock until I went away to college at the University of Iowa, where Black students accounted for about 3% of the student body – a statistic that resembled the state’s Black population. It was in there – two weeks into my first semester – that I was called the N-word for the first time.

I generally got along with my fellow students, but there were times when I felt some professors and staff didn’t spend much effort really getting to know me. I had a scholarship and assistantship, which required me to work with a well-respected psychology professor. I remember him looking at me like I was a strange object – like he didn’t know what to do with me.

When I was a sophomore, I confided in my psychology academic advisor about my experience and about my dream of becoming a psychologist, hoping she’d provide some reassurance and guidance. I still remember her response. She said, "Well, not everybody has to get a doctorate in psychology." Her message was that I didn't belong there. After that, I never met with her again.

I eventually joined a historically Black sorority, Sigma Gamma Rho, which provided me with a sisterhood that made me feel seen and heard. But it wasn’t until I had that support network in place that I really felt comfortable navigating the university system. Eventually, I met other allies who provided mentorship that I still appreciate today.

I was lucky to have parents who spoke openly about their own experiences as Black Americans. They made it plain: Racism happens, but here are a few ways we’ve worked through it. Every time I ran into a challenging situation, I’d remember my mom telling me about a similar problem she’d encountered. Those conversations not only gave me faith in my ability to manage discriminatory situations, but they also taught me the value of sharing your experiences and observations.

Q. What can women in marginalized groups do to build a support system at work?

A. Find other folks who can validate your worth – allies. We all benefit from trusted coworkers and mentors who can provide support and perspective, but strong allies are invaluable to Black employees, who are underrepresented in leadership positions. I’ve found it very helpful to connect with other Black women, who have been wonderful sources of acceptance and understanding.

The feeling of otherness can be painful for women of color, particularly those who aspire to prominent positions, which is why it’s so critical to build meaningful, mutually supportive work relationships. By finding a community they can trust, women learn to become their own best advocates.

I’m also a big fan of self-care. A few healthy habits and regularly scheduled time off can increase your career longevity and help preserve your mental health. Some people also benefit from regular cognitive therapy, support groups or involvement in local civic organizations. I encourage my clients to explore what works best for them. Try it all!

I also try to remind women that it’s okay to seek help. Black folks have fought long and hard for independence, so many of us grew up believing that we’ve got to go it alone. But there’s wisdom in knowing that you can't do everything on your own – and trying will only lead to burnout. Asking for support and guidance is never a sign of weakness.

Q. What can organizations do to promote a culture of inclusivity and improve the experience of Black employees?

A. It starts with the willingness of leaders to communicate and prioritize the principles of inclusivity. Diversity of thought is known to strengthen an organization’s cultural – and even financial – position, so it’s in everyone’s best interest to welcome a variety of ideas, backgrounds and beliefs. Perhaps the most impactful way for healthcare leaders to demonstrate the value of inclusivity is to simply talk about it.

Institutions must recognize that representation matters and invite employees to weigh in on hard topics like discrimination and marginalization. Ask people to describe their experiences and remain open to their suggestions. Don’t be afraid to say, "Hey, this is a safe place to talk about race-related issues." Those are the types of conversations that can open eyes and build bridges.

Above all, organizations should create a culture of safety, where employees feel free to express themselves and confront problems when necessary. A person of color should never fear retribution for pointing out wrongdoing when they see it. When and if a problem does arise, I urge leaders to ask questions and avoid snap judgments. Issues related to race are personal and complex, and real growth only happens when we challenge our own assumptions.

It's also important for employers to ensure that the clientele they serve is represented in the demographics of their staff. In my own practice, I’ve seen many patients request a Black or female therapist because it’s what feels most comfortable to them. Those options should be available and encouraged.

A growing number of institutions, including Cleveland Clinic, offer affinity groups, which are designed to support employees with specific backgrounds or interests. Those kinds of opportunities can be lifelines for women struggling to find their place within an organization. When they’re designed to uplift employees of color, activities like cultural celebrations, specialty groups and training programs focused on diversity and inclusion can be enormously empowering.

Q. How can we, as caregivers, be better allies to our Black female colleagues?

A. First, it helps to anticipate and recognize that your Black coworkers are likely to face discrimination and bias at some point in their career. You may not be able to prevent or fix the problem, but you can offer meaningful support by simply being there. Listen with an empathetic ear and validate their experiences.

If you find that you’ve done something that has offended one of your coworkers, the most powerful thing you can do is acknowledge your mistake, apologize, and ask what you can do to improve the situation. Although microaggressions are often unintentional, it’s never helpful to say you “didn't mean anything” by what you said or did. When you’ve hurt somebody, healing often begins with empathy.

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