Written by: Victoria M. Kasali
Like any other human, there were certain things Imeakan could not tolerate, her shoes getting wet, people touching her without permission, people seating beside her on the bus when there were enough empty seats for her to be left alone unbothered but one of the things she hated the most was her boss insisting on calling her by her Nigerian name even though he could not pronounce it right.
He claimed to be woke and refused to call her by her English name like her other co-workers or by her nickname “Imy”. She had half the mind that he had a personal vendetta against her but seeing how he interacted with other people of colour it was painfully obvious she was not his only victim, from calling Ramesh in Tech Support Nubian King to saying “what’s popping gurl?” to Keisha from accounting at odd hours of the day.
There was little they could do he was what one would qualify as a “good” boss, well on paper at least. He paid them on time, gave them breaks on holidays, bonuses when one employee did exceptionally well, and on days of protests or sensitive issues he would allow everyone to leave early (sometimes following them to protests while making sure to take at least a hundred and one pictures), invite himself to employees private events (gets a little drunk at times and giving people of color Fela Kuti CDs and shirts with pictures of Africa(even those from India as gifts), he ensures the company fulfills the quota of 40% people of colour (which he states on his Twitter account every other day) and tries to make them overly included while at the same time invariably excludes them because he makes it painfully obvious our cultural differences but at the same time chooses not to see color in a way that he doesn’t realize that he is being insensitive. He seemingly (or should I say ignorantly) tries his best but doesn’t know how to incorporate cultural differences in a way that welcomes people of colour and not invariably ostracizes them.
First-week Imeakan had started working in Blue fire events and planning she was excited because she had heard of the diversity program and the working benefits. Her best friend Keisha had already been working there for a month and during lunch break gave Imeakan all the gist of what went on in the office and she had told Imeakan about her ‘good’ boss “Brad is a good boss with hopefully good intentions but he can be a bit ignorant on how to approach things”
“What do you mean?” Imeakan became worried because she had only met him briefly during the interview process a month ago, she didn’t sense anything wrong, he seemed nice and had tried hard to pronounce her name despite her telling him he could use her English name. She thought him to be a good person, her last job was a nightmare as her former boss was a rude racist. So she was just grateful to be able to quit.
Keisha stopped eating and thought carefully about how she should string her words together, her silent contemplation built the tension in Imeakan’s belly and made her lose appetite ‘chai! God have I jumped from frying pan to fire?’ she thought to herself. After a full 3 minutes, Keisha finally spoke “I can’t explain it he seemingly has good intentions but has a habit of making people uncomfortable with who they are and where they come from”
Imeakan went from worried to being confused “What do you mean?”
Keisha signed “You’ll have to experience it for yourself to fully understand what I mean.” She stood up and threw away the quarter of her remaining sandwich away, seems that the topic had made her lose her appetite as well. “Let’s get back to work you’ll get to meet him today and get the whole brad experience”
Later that afternoon she met him and was surprised he remembered her. He approached her like he was greeting an old high school buddy and not a new hire.
“I-mi- li-a-ka! It is so nice to see you here. How are you adapting to the new work environment Nubian princess?” he approached her smiling she internally flinched at the mispronunciation and cringe-worthy nickname but decided to overlook it.
“I am doing well Mr. Whyte, these past few weeks Blue fire has been nothing but good to me” and she was being honest her cubicle was spacious and she had access to state-of-the-art technology. They had a full hour for lunch which remained uninterrupted no matter what till the end, an amazing break room with great snacks, and a great cafeteria on the third floor. In comparison to her last job this was heaven on earth, her ancestors were finally smiling down on her. “Oh and please call me Rose or Im–” he cut her off
“That’s great to hear! Sorry, I had to miss your grand entrance, I had to go back to your motherland Ghana for a special client’s wedding event, the planning took weeks the wedding itself almost took longer! People from down there know how to party right? Maybe one of these days you will invite me to one of your people’s parties so I can get my a-freak-on. See what I did there A-freak, Africa?” he had said all this while smiling innocently and with a boisterous laugh at the end, seeing nothing wrong with all he had said.
Imeakan was caught off guard and could not exactly pinpoint the exact moment to trace the so many wrong things he had said and the only intelligible response she could come up with at that moment was “I am from Nigeria, not Ghana”
“Aren’t you all the same?”
“No, we-”
“Nice talking to you I-mee- li-a-ka! And please call me Brad, we are now Blue Fire family!” he walked away without giving her a chance to speak.
He went over to Keisha’s Cubicle, Keisha seemed to have shrunk in size folding herself into her chair, and tried very much to use the computer to cover her face while using an upside-down book to cover her side view. All her attempts to be invisible were to no avail.
“What’s popping gurl? Your weave looks beautiful today” he said beamingly at her, while stopping directly in front of her cubicle, giving her no room to hide and forcing her to drop her book, ending her failed attempt at going incognito.
She replied in a cool professional and detached tone “I am doing well sir and this is not a weave.” (Anyone could tell she had just sleeked her natural hair into a bun. Well clearly not anyone, any black person could tell).
“Oh for real? Next time you wear one let me know, so I can spot the difference” he responded non- apologetically for his mistake.
The mild irritation was evident on Keisha’s face either he chose to ignore it or was bad at reading facial expressions. She didn’t dignify him with a response and after a short minute of awkward silence, he left and proceeded to torment his next victim Ramesh from Tech Support.
There were a total of 46 employees in Blue Fire event planning. It was a small company founded by Brad’s mother who retired and left in the hands of her only son when her two elder daughters seemed interested in other things besides carrying on the family legacy of planning overpriced but quality and exclusive events.
18 of the employees were people of color, 10 of which work remotely from home and check in the office twice to three times a week, mostly the media strategists, copywriters, and so on.
They come to the office for work progress meetings and strategic planning for marketing big events. Imeakan scolded herself mentally nearly every day for not fighting harder to work remotely after a month of concealed derogatory terms and silent prejudice.
When Covid-19 happened, she was sad about the state of the world but was silently relieved she finally had a break from the Brad experience. Her mother made all of her unmarried children spend the lockdown in their childhood home. Imeakan wasn’t complaining, to be honest, her childhood home was bigger, a two-storey house in the outskirts of the city of San Francisco with a lovely garden and few neighbours scattered along the street. It was distant from the hustle and bustle of the city so it was quieter and the air smelt fresher.
She loved how her mother made sure her room was like she never left, each time she stepped into her old room it felt like she was in a time capsule, pictures from the airport when her family first landed in America 14 years ago still hung at the corner of her purple mirror, different memories of her childhood were scattered around the house seemingly strategically placed to trigger happy memories. The smell of her mother’s cooking instantly brought back memories of her and her four siblings all gathering around in the kitchen to watch their mother cook and help in the little ways they could. She could still remember arguing with her younger brother who was the spoilt last born who got to scrap the bottom pot when her mum cooked Jollof rice.
Although she was happy to be home she felt unspoken pressure about marriage, her parents didn’t question her directly to avoid making her feel bad but it had become a reoccurring prayer point in morning and evening devotion. Going from how loud her mum prayed when the issue of marriage came up as a prayer request you would think she and her two unmarried brothers were in their fifties not twenties.
Imeakan thought to herself ‘I should have known when mum and dad only asked for unmarried children to spend the lockdown at home,’ she thought about leaving and going back to her apartment but there were strict instructions to stay home, and deep down she didn’t want to because besides her parents silent nagging she was happy to be home. So she shifted her attention to how miserable she felt at work but didn’t want to leave until she found a better job.
When she complained to her friends and family they always asked her the same questions “why don’t you quit?” “why not find another job if it is as terrible as you make it seem?” sometimes if a meddlesome aunty is nearby an occasional “if you were married you wouldn’t be having this problem.” On many accounts a scolding glare from her mother made her hold her tongue from giving her aged aunt a rude reply. But in her mind, she imagined looking her dead in the eye and asking a few curt questions “how does marriage have anything to do with racism and blatant ignorance? Will the wedding ring turn into an idiot repellant? But most of all do you think I don’t want to get married?!!”
Imeakan was 24 years old and even though she could still be considered young, sometimes she couldn’t help but feel like an old milkmaid. Her elder sister got married a few years ago when she was 22 and her younger sister got married last year on her 23rd birthday. Their mother had married their father when she had only been 21. All of her aunties both the annoying and kind all got married before the age of 25. Imeakan couldn’t help but feel like she was a black sheep in her family, she didn’t have any male friends outside of her brothers talk less of a man she could marry.
Imeakan was a devout Christian aside from always going to church on Sunday mornings and Wednesday evenings, she made sure she spent 30 minutes with God every morning before morning devotion when she was at her childhood home or when she was at her apartment an hour before she went to work. She did her best to follow the scripture and have an intimate relationship with God. She then wondered why was her case different and why did it seem like God wasn’t answering her prayers.
She decided to tackle the most popular reasons Nigerian women face, were her village people chasing her from Nigeria to San Francisco? Had she eaten something in her dream? Was it spirit husband? She prayed fervently against all this but nothing changed then she thought maybe it was physical, not spiritual? Was it the way she dressed? Did she have a bad character? Was she keeping Malice? Had she sinned against God? She did a self-evaluation and consulted wise older Christians around her and she found nothing wrong.
One day during Sermon she heard a prayer point that touched her deep in her heart, “Holy Ghost overshadow my dreams and let me have a divine encounter with you in Jesus’ name!” This prayer point became a permanent fixture in her prayers then one day after 3 weeks of constant praying it finally happened.
…to be continued next week