–( SIX )–

Face Fear and Fragility

Defining Fear

It is against this backdrop of a sordid and painful history that we are asking dominant and subordinated groups to come together and talk about our differences. Why wouldn’t there be fear and fragility? As an identifiable (based on my skin color) African American woman, I carry a certain amount of fear with me on a daily basis. “Living while Black” for people of color means that you are always on guard, especially in unfamiliar surroundings. How will my skin color impact how I am going to be treated? Based on lived experiences too numerous to even begin to share, I have learned to be cautious and attuned when I am in spaces where I don’t see other people of color. It is not always to the level of “fear” as defined in this chapter, but there is a certain level of anxiety. Among my family and circle of friends, questions routinely asked are: Do you think there will be other Black people there? How are Black people treated there?

Karl Albrecht, an author and management consultant, defines fear as an anxious feeling, caused by our anticipation of an imagined event or experience.¹ He explains that there are five basic fears, from which all other so-called “fears” emanate.² These are (1) extinction or death; (2) mutilation or losing a body part; (3) loss of autonomy—being immobilized, paralyzed, restricted, entrapped, imprisoned, smothered, or otherwise controlled by circumstances beyond our control; (4) separation—abandonment, rejection, and loss of connectedness, or not being wanted, respected, or valued by others; and (5) ego-death—humiliation, shame, or any other mechanism of profound self-disapproval that threatens the integrity of the self. Fear that is manifested by loss of autonomy, separation, and/or ego-death resonate as we think about inclusion, equity, and belonging.

Societal Fear

There are troubling signs that the world is again embracing ideologies of separation from those who are different veiled as nationalism and patriotism. Populism, a political approach that strives to appeal to ordinary people who feel that their concerns are disregarded by established elite groups, is on the rise. This ideology uses xenophobic paranoia and a rejection of any form of global cooperation in favor of a strong, country-first approach to international affairs.³

This trend is fueled largely by fear—fear of loss of autonomy—the sense of being trapped by something that is beyond one’s control. There is a fear that immigrants and other “minorities” will destroy the dominant culture’s way of life; they will take over, leaving “us” powerless. Recent elections around the world of populist regimes contribute to anti-inclusion messages. Right-wing populist and nationalist governments are in power in Brazil, Hungary, India, Israel, Philippines, Poland, Russia, Turkey, and the United States, among other countries. Experts in the United States think that Donald Trump won the presidency in 2016 because the Democrats paid little attention to economically vulnerable white people. Even though technology is largely to blame for upending the need for many entry-level unskilled jobs that are now automated, job loss and personal economic decline is attributed to foreigners and affirmative action. The fear manifests in statements like “They are taking our jobs.”

While dominant group fear is based on loss of autonomy, the fear among targeted groups is based on what Albrecht describes as separation and ego-death fear. We should not minimize the dire effects these types of fears have on children during their formative years. The sense of abandonment and rejection simply because of one’s identity will in many cases lead to psychological issues in adulthood. Think about the impact on migrant children who are in detention centers separated from their parents because of strict immigration policies.

At the extreme, fear plays out in the escalating violence that we see globally. Mass shootings as well as destruction of churches, temples, and mosques are much more commonplace today. Extremist groups are coming from the underground to the forefront, spewing hate and messages of their supremacy. Hate crimes are on the rise around the world. Our fears of those who are different play a major role in limiting our ability for inclusive conversations.

Identity-Based Trauma

These current-day traumatic experiences faced by a disproportionate number of historically subordinated groups increase the chances of identity-based trauma. “Trauma” is defined by the American Psychological Association (APA) as “an emotional response to a terrible event like an accident, rape or natural disaster.” The APA describes the impact like this: “Immediately after the event, shock and denial are typical. Longer term reactions include unpredictable emotions, flashbacks, strained relationships and even physical symptoms like headaches or nausea. I don’t think these feelings are normal. Not sure what I meant there.”⁴

Most of us are familiar with the term Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). It is usually a condition associated with military combat veterans. The US Department of Veteran Affairs defines PTSD as “a mental health problem that some people develop after experiencing or witnessing a life-threatening event, like combat, a natural disaster, a car accident, or sexual assault.”⁵ Identity-based trauma has not been as widely researched or talked about, but it is just as real as other traumas that people may face today, according to Nnamdi Pole, PhD, professor of clinical psychology at Smith College. Pole contends that the psychological impact of racial injustices can lead to PTSD.⁶ He says that the repeated images of Black people being assaulted by police can cause trauma for young Black men in particular and all Black people in general, even when they have not personally experienced the event. Just knowing that you belong to an identity group where there may be potential harm increases the chances of trauma.

Identity-based trauma is also more likely to manifest as Pre-Traumatic Stress Syndrome, which refers to the anticipation and fear that come with knowing that you might be targeted just because of who you are. As defined in a 2017 news report: “The symptoms are similar to post-traumatic stress disorder (including grief, sadness, worry, disturbing intrusive thoughts, sleep troubles and nightmares, and avoiding situations or activities that are reminiscent of the stressful event), but in this case, they stem from anticipatory anxiety about an event that may occur in the future.”⁷

Social scientists have coined the term “historical trauma” to refer to the multigenerational, communal trauma that oppressed and marginalized groups have faced.⁸ For example, when Black people see the brutal attacks against Black people in the media, it is reminiscent of a long history of brutality (e.g., lynching) toward Black people in this country. When Jewish people witness their synagogues being attacked by white supremacists today, this brings back memories of the Holocaust and other injustices targeted toward Jewish people. In the current sociopolitical climate, a number of identities are under attack. Inclusive conversations are hindered by identity-based trauma that may not even be conscious to the victims. This type of trauma can impede our ability for intercultural trust, discussed in Chapter 8.

Trauma and Perpetrators of Identity-Based Violence

There is also a theory that it is not only the victims of identity-based violence who experience trauma but also the perpetuators. Perpetration-Induced Traumatic Stress (PITS), a term coined by peace psychologist Rachel MacNair, describes incidents of PTSD resulting from the trauma of having committed violence, as contrasted with trauma caused by witnessing or being the recipient of a violent act.⁹ PITS plays out as shock and denial. The theory is that white America is so overwhelmed by its history of injustice that it has gone into deep denial. Shock and denial are aspects of white fragility, a concept advanced by Robin DiAngelo, which I elaborate on later in this chapter.¹⁰

The psychological ramifications of the trauma that people of color and other marginalized groups face as victims and that white people face as perpetrators emanate from deep fear of the other.

According to experts, fear and trauma weaken the immune system, which can lead to cardiovascular damage, gastrointestinal problems such as ulcers and irritable bowel syndrome, and decreased fertility. Fear and trauma can also lead to accelerated aging and even premature death.¹¹

Actions to Mitigate Fear

Analyze fears using metacognitive approaches. If the fear-induced situation is not putting you in imminent danger, ask yourself: Why am I so afraid? What evidence do I have that my fear is valid? If you are a person from a marginalized identity group that literally holds fear as a regular way of being, it is important to name it, analyze it, and do something about it, like seek professional help. Often, one may not associate physical and emotional symptoms with fear. It may manifest as depression, fatigue, heightened anxiety, and other diseases such as high blood pressure, diabetes, and mental disorders. Another problem: studies show that people of color are less likely to seek mental health solutions as there is often a cultural stigma attached.

Share your fear with a trusted friend or colleague. Talking about our fears can be very cathartic. Tell someone you trust about why you are afraid and ask them to listen and offer their perspective.

Face your fears head on. Behavioral scientists say that if we are able to experience situations where we confront our fears, these experiences can serve to quell our fears because we may find that they are unfounded. For example, for many years I was afraid of dogs because as a child I was attacked by one. Putting myself in situations with dogs over the years has mitigated that fear. If you fear an identity group other than your own, for instance, intentionally having more contact with that group can decrease your sense of fear. You might start by watching documentaries or reading books that provide an accurate perspective. After that you might genuinely reach out to engage with a co-worker who is different.

Resist believing stereotypical representations of groups. The saying “don’t believe everything you hear” is really good advice in this day of rapid-fire communication that technology makes possible. Watching the daily news and staying on your social media feeds can induce unfounded anxiety and fear. When you hear or see these stories, ask yourself: What emotion did this cause me to have? Why? Does it fuel fear based on negative stereotypes of a group?

Addressing Fears in Team Settings

When fear is present in team dynamics, any hope to reap the advantages that come from teamwork are thwarted. The power of teamwork, the bringing together of diverse ideas and experiences, has the potential to create better solutions than any one individual can do on their own. The following ideas are ways to address fear in teams:

   Model behavior. If you are the leader, model behavior by showing vulnerability and that it is okay to make mistakes. Mistakes show that learning is happening. Keep in mind, as pointed out in Chapter 4, that making mistakes may be riskier for historically subordinated groups, so be mindful of biases or double standards.

   Assess team dynamics. Who contributes in team meetings and who does not? Understand why and how each person might like to engage by building individual relationships with team members. In addition to reducing fear, this action can build trust.

   Practice equity not equality. As pointed out in Chapter 5, equity means that you provide support based on differing levels of needs. Make sure the team understands the concept of equity and it is not seen as “charity” or preferential treatment that looks like favoritism. For example, giving more time to a newer team member to catch up is equity not preferential treatment. If English is not a team member’s first language, make sure to send out meeting documents well in advance to give time for comprehension.

   Understand that words matter. Be intentional in word choices so that you are not promulgating fear and intimidation. Chapter 11 explores this in more detail.

Understanding Fragility

Fear and fragility are related. Fear can induce fragility, and by the same token fragility can lead to fear. The word “fragility” and its root word “fragile” are often associated with the need to be “careful” or “gentle” with a subject. “Fragility” suggests a certain degree of delicacy, thereby requiring more effort in handling whatever or whomever it is because you are fearful that if you do not apply such delicate handling, an unwanted outcome might happen. “White fragility,” a term coined by sociologist Robin DiAngelo and articulated in her best-selling book by the same name, is defined as a state in which even a minimum amount of racial stress becomes intolerable, triggering a range of defensive moves on the part of white people. These moves include the outward display of emotions such as anger, fear, and guilt, and behaviors such as argumentation, silence, and leaving the stress-inducing situation. These behaviors, in turn, function to reinstate white racial dominance.¹²

Brittany J. Harris, vice president of Learning and Innovation at The Winters Group, recounted a story in The Inclusion Solution, The Winters Group blog and newsletter, about how a middle-schooler was eloquently able to name white fragility. Brittany is a member of a curriculum advisory board for an urban school district. The board chose to engage a student, a Black girl in the seventh grade, in the curriculum review to provide feedback as a student.

When asked her thoughts and what she would recommend, the student offered a youthful articulation of white fragility. She wanted the board to make sure that when they experienced the assignments and discussed the articles (one of which explored the impact of redlining, gentrification, and modern-day segregation in urban cities) that “the teachers not make the few white students in the class feel badly about their ancestors.” She didn’t want the white students to “be sad or get offended.”

Without knowing it, this young person had explained white fragility—and the ways in which it showed up in her world. Brittany said that it was a powerful moment in that room with teachers, curriculum designers, and other board members (people in power). This Black student studying within an urban, underfunded school system, living within a socioeconomically, disenfranchised community, still felt compelled to center the feelings of white students when sharing what she wanted to see in the curriculum.

What If We Acknowledged Black (Marginalized Group) Fragility?

What if we turned the concept on its head to talk about Black fragility and defined it in terms of vulnerability, the quality or state of being exposed to the possibility of being attacked or harmed, either physically or emotionally. What if we thought about the extra care that historically marginalized groups need because we have intergenerational trauma from our own painful history? Perhaps if we believed in Black fragility we would not have underfunded urban schools, disparities in educational outcomes, disproportionate numbers of people of color who are incarcerated, vast socioeconomic disparities, and representation inequities in the workforce. If we believed in Black fragility, maybe we would not find concepts like equity to be controversial because we would easily see that everybody is not getting what they need and deserve. If we embraced Black fragility, we would not be chastised for calling the “race card.” As a matter of fact, we would be invited to do so.

Some of the response to DiAngelo’s work by people of color is that we don’t have the privilege of being fragile. We have to be tough and not show any vulnerability. For example, I was taught: “You can’t show white people any weakness because they will use it against you.” “Be strong” is a common refrain in communities of color, acknowledging just how difficult it is to succeed in the midst of oppressive systems. However, under the “be strong” veneer is a type of unspoken fragility that eats away at our very being. Suppressing our fragility leads to fatigue that in turn leads to dire psychological and physical health consequences.

Is Resilience Too Much to Ask?

“Resilience” is another buzz word gaining in popularity in the DEI space. As defined in Merriam-Webster, “resilience” is “the ability to mentally or emotionally cope with a crisis or to return to pre-crisis status quickly.” It is a lot to ask to bounce back quickly from some of the injustices that induce fear and trauma. The systems that promulgate inequities did not happen quickly, and I daresay we cannot recover quickly. A “get over it,” “grin and bear it,” “keep a stiff upper lip” attitude suggests that there is little need to talk about it, unpack the situation, be with the normal emotions that might be associated with the trauma and/or seek professional help if needed. The Winters Group conducted an informal online survey in December 2019 asking respondents to share how working in DEI impacts their emotional, physical, and mental health. Here are a few of the representative responses:

   The emotional toll: It has made me numb. The mental toll: It has robbed my sleep and made me paranoid. My physical health: Blood clots and circulation issues from flights all over the world for the company.

   Since taking on a full-time diversity and inclusion (D&I) role in mid-2019, I oftentimes have a need to escape and unplug from the toll and emotional tax of the work we do.

   Now I recognize that this work is a lot more intense and draining than I was expecting. Some challenges include feeling like a failure when I am not able to impact systemic change, and instead am asked to work within a box; or the pressure I feel to always exemplify cultural competence and inclusive leadership (I’m in the spotlight).

   I often feel misunderstood, alone, and confused at work, especially when I am the only one who appears to recognize bias as it unfolds.

   As a white person leading DEI work at an incredibly diverse organization, I am constantly asked, “Why are YOU leading this work?” Like for everyone who has to consistently justify their validity, it’s emotionally exhausting. And it’s ironic since the whole purpose of DEI work is to lessen people’s need to justify their presence or the validity of their perspectives.

   As a woman of color, I initially fell into this work. At every job, regardless of title, I created a diversity component that was incorporated into the company. It wasn’t by choice, but rather by necessity! Often there were barriers and misunderstandings. Mentally, I am tougher and more knowledgeable and quite comfortable “speaking truth to power.” I’m also focused and determined. Emotionally, I am fragile. . . . I have to channel the emotions, the sadness, the rage at what shouldn’t be and what I must work to change.

   I am a nervous wreck. I’ve gained twenty pounds since early spring. I’ve been in the role for two years and quite suddenly I became very bad at it, though none of my job actions and activities changed. I feel like I’m under a microscope and that my every error is magnified times twenty. Because I had quite long honeymoon in this job, I made the mistake of feeling and being free to bring my authentic self to the office. Not a smart move.

While resilience is important, it will not change the system. It merely allows us to more effectively cope with the status quo.

The fear and fragility associated with DEI work is significant. It takes quite an emotional and even physical toll. We need to acknowledge that more, have inclusive conversations about how to manage the fear and fragility, and be careful in advocating resilience as a solution. Self-care is extremely important in DEI work, especially in engaging in inclusive conversations that are likely to induce triggers and anxiety. Knowing when to unplug, take some “me time,” and/or seek professional support is critical.

SUMMARY

   There is a lot of cross-difference fear, some of it based on our history and some based on today’s global sociopolitical climate. Dominant group and subordinated group fear of the “other” manifest in different ways.

   Inclusive conversations are not possible if fear is present. To address fears, we have to be willing to name them, analyze the root cause, and face them head on.

   Fear and fragility are related. White fragility keeps us from having meaningful conversations about race. It can actually stop them before they even start.

   Historically marginalized groups are fragile too, but that fragility is not often acknowledged intragroup or by other groups.

   We have to create brave spaces to talk about fear and fragility.

   We should be careful in advocating “resilience” alone as the solution to the fear and trauma associated with DEI work.