I need to hear from my peeps out there. Although I am from California I have found myself in the South. I used to call it Atlanta but I've had rude awakening as of late and realize that this is truly the Dirty South.

When you've been in Corporate America as long as I have (15 years) you think that as a black person, well in this case a black woman, that you have experienced all of the various levels of corporate discrimination, harassment and the like. After awhile you feel confident that you have mastered and survived the tricks of "Chez Whitey" but every now and then a little blond bitch comes along to show you otherwise. She's like a reality check and although this is not my first encounter with "her" it was a reminder of the bullshit that lurks in the hearts of white America. I will submit to any of you today that no matter how accomplished, degreed, or high up on the ladder - you will always be a "nigga". I'm not saying that to discourage those that are on that climb to the top but don't get taken off guard as I have recently. No matter how much they appear to like you and laugh at your jokes, these mothafuckas are something else ya'll.

Feeling pretty comfortable in my environment and secure in my position I forgot about the shit that lurks right beneath the surface of white and black professional relationships, especially those that are shared between white and black women. For the most part, most white women in the work place appear to be quite friendly, damn near too friendly. When you see "her" it's almost as if you feel you have to return her cheery hello and perky smile. You don't want to seem rude or unapproachable. You may even entertain her attempts at professional friendship. You answer routine questions that nosey white mothafuckas in the workplace ask, because you don't volunteer such information, nearly as freely as they do. So they get to feeling like they know you pretty well. It's already been established that you are a "safe Negro" to some extent or they wouldn't have hired you.

She's checking you out- sizing you up as an adversary. You know the questions, what does your family "do" ?What does your husband "do"? What did you used to "do"? what does your husband's family "do"?, Where'd you get married, where'd you honey moon, how many carats is your ring, , where you went to college, where'd your husband to college, do you rent or own? Shit like that Blondie's peeping your style too. She's seen you in the parking lot so she's peeped your ride. Constantly commenting on how cute your clothes are and how "versatile" your hair is. Again, she feels like she knows you. From asking these seemingly harmless questions as they would prove non-threatening to another white female employee, these questions make me squirm, not because I'm ashamed of anything but because it's none of her damn business and I'm trying to let her know that shit without making any ripples. Again, she's attempting to determine your threat level. Are you qualified enough to have her job? Are you capable of doing her job? Do you have good working relationships with other workers that if office politics were the deciding factor in you "taking" her job or that coveted promotion, where would your office mates side. How prone are you to anger, hostility, and "going off". How do you handle "discrete" discrimination, backstabbing, and the other joys of the corporate world. These are thing that she has to find out before she tests you. She has to know if she needs to play on the stereotype of the "white-girl-intimidated-by-the-mean-old-black-girl", which is basically her trump card if she doesn't get her way. What can I say, I slipped and got caught up with in the bullshit with "Chez Whitey".

My husband and I purchased our first house this year, 2 months before she and her husband closed on their "loft". I only know that because she pointed it out several times, I'm thinking "big fucking deal". During the interior selection process, I got grilled every fucking day about this or that. What type of appliances, carpets, color schemes, you name it. She caught me on a PMDD Day (severe PMS for you laymen) and she asked me what type of counter tops I choose to put in the house. I asked her what she meant, and she said, "you know, counter tops. Are your counter tops Corian…", or some other shit she mentioned. It was like 7am and I'm not ready for this bullshit this early in the morning. I sit there for about 10 seconds because and she's salivating because she wants to show me up so badly. Before I know it I respond "we have the countertops that you can sit things on, like everyone else." I didn't feel the need to inform this bitch that we were just happy to have our first house. With this answer she was both angry and thrilled. I clearly saw that I fucked up because now she can make a case for the "intimidating black girl" that she always suspected that I was. My bad ya'll, had I not been "mentally impaired" that day, I would have quickly silenced her by lying and telling her our countertops were pure marble. Doing research on the best maker of marble countertops would have kept her busy for about another week or so - seriously that's how she is.

She'd secretly been making comparisons of my life and hers, my standing in that company and her future in it and she was making a decision - am I a threat or not. If you are like any of the black women that I know - you are tight with your shit. You play your part, you're intelligent, and a real go getter but you don't obsess over it. That day I became another hostile ass black woman. I was had violated her because I made it out of my turf (Oakland) and into hers - the workplace.

Realize that the workplace is the only place that a white woman can validate herself. Marriage is damn near a given for her. She usually goes from the security of her father's home (or something that he's purchased) into that of her husband's. She's not necessarily working because she needs the money, per se (and yes dammit I'm generalizing so humor me) she's working because she wants to make her "own" money - ain't that a bitch? Her "own" money. Interesting terms they use, "own" money. Meanwhile you are working cuz all you got is your "own" money or there is NO "other" money in which to pay rent, car note, etc.

As I stated earlier, I thought I had gotten to a level in which I had jumped through most of the hoops that I'd face in my career because the glass ceiling is a given. Because it's glass it's easy for me to ignore. I happen to work in a department mostly inhabited by males with a sprinkle of female co-workers. This is the environment that I chose and have grown accustomed to for obvious reasons the gossip, jealousy, pettiness, and hormonal imbalances are at a minimum. Now I've never made the mistake to forget that I am a black woman, from the West Coast, working and living in the South. I don't forget my "place" regarding the mind state of white people. To them I'm a cool "negra" until I fuck up. I was careful not to forget the cardinal rule of engagement in the workplace - Don't (engage that is). Tell them what you must and keep that shit to a minimum. In the last few months I have found myself at odds with the department Barbie Doll. She's well educated, totally secure in her position that management was nice enough to tailor specifically for her, and married with the 3 carat Tiffany ring, etc. How we became at odds, I don't' really know. Of course, she gets on my fucking nerves with her blow by blow details of her fairytale life and freely keeps everyone in the office abreast of each detail (like we really give a fuck). But I humored this bitch because I know, our supervisor might as well be her not-so-secret-Santa because she runs wears a path in the rug running in and out of his office. She made it known to me early on that we were not on equal standing although we had the same job title. I was cool with that because the more she talks to our supervisor, the less I have to say. As long as he has a set of nice perky tits in his face, the more he can agree with whatever I propose to do. So we found ourselves on opposite sides at meetings. If I said the sun was yellow, she would be the only one in the room to reply or "play the devil's advocate" an interesting and relevant phrase she frequently used, devil being the operative word here. At first, I would listen and smile and pretend to take notes on her suggestions and kept my comments to a minimum. Because I knew this was a public display of her superiority complex. I refused to play her game, and I let her have her say because these weren't important details, she was just blowing off steam to make sure that room knew that she was smarter than I was. If she had the energy to dissect my theories line by line - shit let her - I got what I wanted. But lately, the shit has been getting on my nerves.

So here's the deal. White girl is going on and on about the Black Panther Party and how much of a racist organization they were in the 60's and still are today. We're at a crowded conference table. I just so happened to be the only black employee there at that time. Leave it up to me to interject that the Black Panthers were militant in a very hostile social climate and that the entire government was racist at that time. Me being from Oakland, I've attended more rallies than I can shake a stick at and I've seen them do some very positive things in my own neighborhood, so yeah - I'm offended by her comments. Had I been anyone else, she would have engaged me in conversation and heard me out but it was me - adversary to the devil's advocate, doing some advocating of my own. I guess because I was out numbered ,she figured this would be a quick crash and burn. What she said was "but anyway" but what she meant was "whatever bitch". By her calculations, I would either shut the fuck up or embarrass myself by over-reacting. I decided to shut the fuck up at that precise moment because I was having an Ally McBeal moment and was visualizing crushing her skull with the laptop projector that sat in front of me. I shrugged it off, laughed a bit, and so as not to make a hasty departure that would indicate the rage that I was feeling, I sat there until somebody else left the table about 2 minutes later. You see, I was being watched. No one else dared to breathe - they half expected chairs to start flying. Even our boss was curious as to what I would do in retaliation. When I returned to my office I typed up a short note asking her to limit conversations of race relations, politics, and religion to private conversations, while gently reminding her that actually, these topics have no room in the workplace especially with the post 9/11 climate that America is brooding over. I sent as a copy to my supervisor as well. Upon returning to her desk she began to scoff and mumble incoherent curses, I could almost make out the double talk "uppity nigger". Immediately she printed out my note and went into my supervisor's office to complain.

After complaining to our boss, of course I was called in to the office in which I was told by him, not her, that she didn't mean anything harmful or offensive about her remarks and then I was told of her service in the Peace Corps, peaceful marches, and volunteer efforts to feed the hungry whom I was told were "mostly black". She was reeling and angry but what she displayed was false injury. She appeared to be bewildered, shaken, and surprised by my letter. I was told that she was not a malicious person at all and was probably the nicest person on staff. Funny thing though, I could see this white bitch declaring war on me just by the look in her eyes. The look behind the bogus shock. Mind you, this bitch hadn't said a word the entire time, these were the words of our "fearless leader". I didn't say anything either. I refused to shake my head because they were both looking for some sign that I was absorbing the bullshit they were laying down. I gave them none. I looked at him so long and so hard that he began to repeat himself.

The next morning found her in his office with 2 other managers. They did not expect me to come in as early as I did so the door was open. I didn't catch very much but the fact that she refused to make eye contact with me told me that some shit was brewing. Even the half smile that she had on her face when exiting his office told me that I had struck pay dirt and that my black ass was in for the long ride. My supervisor gave me an envelope in which she had responded to my initial correspondence. In it she further detailed her good Samaritan acts but accused me of creating a toxic work environment since coming to that department. This accusation she repeated 3 more times in her letter without one example. The fact that management had read this shit and felt comfortable giving it to me blew my mind. I sat there dumbfounded because it was a letter written out of pure spite, meanness, and it constituted slander. I went to management and expressed my feelings very calmly and all I got was quiet, but they were "sorry" that I took offense to her social words. Did I take offense or did she offend me? That's the question. This shit has brewed all week long and finally came to a head today 9/26/03. We were called into the office and given the same pep talk as before; we don't have to like one another but we do need to be civil. We have to get along. She interjected that she had spoken with our director and was adamant about being moved further away from me. I had prepared a response to her baseless accusations and chronicled our tumultuous past. Since she was finished speaking I felt that this was my opportunity to hand out my response while commenting on the real issue at hand. I was silenced. Not only was I silenced by our manager, the son of a bitch handed my letter back! At his cue she too refused to read what I had written. OK - STOP. I was livid. I could not believe that our manager was refusing to accept my letter. How is it that he allowed her correspondence to belittle and undermine me as an employee and a person but he would not accept my response? I fought the good fight ya'll, I tried to get my point across but he began getting upset and yelling "enough, enough. The best thing for me to do was leave.. Upon exiting, I turned and saw the largest smirk on her face that I've ever seen on a person and she was looking at me. It took everything in me to keep from saying 'fuck it" and kicking her ass right then and there. I know violence wouldn't solve shit but she deserved a broken jaw just because of the look on her face. That smirk said so much, "gotcha darkie" "Barbie wins again" "Go fuck yourself black girl because you can't fuck with me". I got my shit and left.

Now I'm left to deal with this shit and its' basically over - for them. But being the type of person that I am, this shit is going to fuck with me. I have to do some serious prayer cuz God is going to truly have to deal with my heart on this one if I am to return on Monday. There's a part of me that knows I've been wronged twice! So this is where ya'll come in, I need some suggestions. Don't come with no shit that's going to get me fired cuz I still have to pay for that house I mentioned. If I wanted to lose my job, I would have kicked her ass and broken his hip right in that office on Friday. I know I have to let this go, but I just don't know if I am strong enough to let this shit go and walk in there on Monday with a smile. I refuse to be a brooding black woman, or one with an attitude, but I am simply at a loss for words. Right now, the only thing on my mind is retaliation. I know where she lives and it would be very easy to offer her prized pooch some anti-freeze (I know that would break her ass). My mind is so cluttered with getting back at them that I can't see straight. The question is can I win in this situation? I'm afraid that the answer is "no" and that is fucked up. I would like to file a complaint against her but her recent and past behavior doesn't constitute harassment or discrimination. I've thrown the good working relationship with my manger out the window because I simply hate the man now. But I also know that it wasn't good at all - it was just a matter of time. I'm not the one to grin and bear it - I shut down. I become overly polite and aloof. That is my way of coping when I am biding my time to get the fuck out of a situation. I need to hear from my peeps on this issue, because I truly don't want to be the Bitterbitch that I know that I am.

Released: October 5th, 2003

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