Office Artwork

“Um, who can I talk to about the artwork in the room I’m in?”

I was at a settlement conference for my client and I realized something about the artwork in the room. I wasn’t in them. Out of the four pictures on the walls, one was titled “Heads of The Law” and depicted all white men in wigs as judges. The second was titled “The Verdict” with all white men as the lawyers and all white men as the jurors and a weeping white woman in distress. Apparently, they had not ruled in her favor.

Depictions of lawyers as white men is the norm in our industry still, so at first, I didn’t think anything of the messages being sent to me by the walls. But then I looked closer at the third picture. It appeared to be a cut out of a National Geographic article and framed. (Can you tell where I’m going here?) The left side said “African law so advanced they don’t even need lawyers.” The right side was a picture of a figurine that was used by a tribe to keep the peace a long time ago.

This third piece was particularly bothersome to me the longer I looked at it.

• First, it was talking about African culture like it was one single entity. Yet in reality, the continent of Africa is incredibly diverse.

• Second, it was mocking in its description of the “advanced” approach one African tribe took to dispel differences. The people filling these rooms are lawyers who are not going to see this piece of art as informative but as a joke.

• Third, it continues to feed the stereotype that the cultures of black people are “primitive.” Yet in reality, the legal systems in African countries are modern and thriving.

Put together, the messages being sent to me as a person in the room were clear.

They conveyed that white men are everywhere and they hold all the power. White women are weepy and must succumb to the opinions of white men. Black people deserve to be treated with slapstick comments and devalidating stereotypes. All other people of color don’t exist.

So, what were my options?

For those that know me, they know that being silent was not going to be one of them. I’d like to think that I’m teachable. So I did the thing white people aren’t “supposed” to do. I put my discomfort and whiteness aside for a moment and chose to have a conversation about race.

It looked something like this.

I got up out of my chair and went to the front desk. Approaching the white lady eating her lunch, I asked:

Me: “Um, who can I talk to about the artwork in the room I’m in?”

White Lady: “Sure, that would be me. What’s going on?”

Me: “Well, I was sitting there and I realized that the artwork in the room could be updated. In fact, I actually feel deeply bothered and uncomfortable sitting in there with the art that is in there. It’s mostly white men except for one white woman who is kind of weepy.”

White Lady (looking concerned because clearly, this is the first time someone has brought this up): “I’m sorry. The pieces in there are actually mine” (oh no, I thought).

Me: “It’s not the pieces individually that bother me. It’s the message they send all together. It sends the message that white men hold all the power. Also, the picture in there about African law?”

White lady: “Oh yes that’s a leftover from the last owner.”

Me: “Well, yes, I think it’s a problem too because again, taken in the context of the room, it depicts people of color as outdated and irrelevant. If I was a person of color in that room, I think I would be deeply uncomfortable as well.”

White lady: “Oh ok, thank you for bringing it up. I’ll take a look at it.”

Me: “Thank you. You’re welcome.”

As I walked back to the room I was a mixture of emotions. My heart was racing and I was slightly sweaty from the awkwardness. I knew I didn’t say everything in the way I’d like. But through the uncomfortableness, I was also proud. I was energized. It felt good and ultimately encouraging. But I also realized it wasn’t about me.

I spoke up so the next people who come into the room might see a different message.

I spoke up so the white woman owner had a chance to see a blind spot in her business and address it.

I spoke up because having white privilege means I don’t have to, which is why I must.

I wasn’t sure how the conversation had landed, but encouragingly, as I left that day, she approached me and with a genuine smile on her face thanked me for “paying attention” and for bringing it up. She promised to address it.

And the truth is, it doesn’t “end” here. The fact that this felt so uncomfortable is embarrassing and a sign that I have not done this enough. So, I’ll continue to try. I’m okay with failing if it means I have the chance of becoming better.

I share this experience in hopes that you, dear white reader, will keep your eyes and heart open and will join me in the uncomfortable business of doing what’s right.

Whether you are the speaker or the one being spoken to, each one of us is deciding every day what we want whiteness to be.

Looking for a place to start? Take a look at the art on the walls around you.

What do they say?

Authors Note: Recently I have been blessed by the teachings of strong black women through their work. Layla Saad’s “White Supremacy and Me” is a powerful workbook that continues to help me really dig into white privilege and what it means for me (I would highly recommend pre-ordering her new book of the same title).

Also, Ijeoma Oluo “So You Want To Talk About Race” is a compelling and inspiring read. Recently, in a powerful video Ijeoma Oluo asked white people, “what do you want whiteness to be?” That question has been on my mind ever since.