The “Problem with the Black Principal in Schools”
A closer look into the treatment of Black women in leadership roles
You would think that in 2022, the psychological warfare on Black people would be over. You’d think the horrors Black people lived throughout slavery and Jim Crow were over, as well. Well, I am here to tell you that none of it really stopped, rather it shifted. Our country and those who are in power are heavily influenced by practices from these historical eras such as competitiveness; upholding obedience to power structures, and making inhumane decisions about the livelihood of Black people. These are just some of the ways these horrific practices still exist today. I want to spotlight their effects on one group of people in a certain profession– Black female Principals.
Like many of my peers, I accepted the Principalship to make an impact on black and brown kids, whom I would be supporting. I wanted to also make an impact on the teachers, who would guide their instruction. Leadership is impact through servitude, and with my track record as a teacher and Assistant Principal, I felt confident I could make an impact as a Principal, too. On my third week in, I already saw the challenges and where I could fit in to improve the outcomes. It was Tuesday and I had just finished a meeting with our annual donors. I felt pretty good and confident about articulating the vision and why they should donate for this school year. I was walking back to my office when I heard my manager, Amy, on the phone. “Everything about her interactions is just better. Everyone feels it and loves it!” It was clear who she was comparing me to, but my need for achievement focused more on the compliment than this hurtful comparison to my predecessor, another Black woman. I looked at my predecessor as a hero and a very intelligent woman, and if I was taking the school further, then I felt accomplished. Little did I know; this conversation and feeling was one of the many actions taken when Black female leaders are cycled in and out of schools. This cycling is a common experience for women of color in the workplace, notably Black women.
Phase I: The Honeymoon Phase (Black leader is celebrated, tokenized, and welcomed)
In the honeymoon period, there is celebration, tokenizing, and quite frankly, a lot of spoiling. We all want positive reinforcement, and I was somewhat flattered by the ‘love’ I was shown, which varied from flowers, compliments on the ideas I was bringing and the changes I was making. It is also important to note that during this time, I was following the rules I had been taught about leadership with no real space for my voice, personality, and authenticity. This wasn’t giving me much leverage with my staff, but it was giving me headway with my all-white seniors. See, I was “the good Black” because I wasn’t stirring the pot.
While I was making headway with all white managers, donors, and Board members, I was struggling on the inside. There were inequities I was seeing behind closed doors, and I knew that what I truly stood for was not being shown nor were my values aligned to theirs. It’s so interesting that all the positive reinforcement from whites makes you feel like you owe them your silence. I stayed uneasy as I had to try to figure out how to call in, call out, and challenge the actions that were happening to staff and students, which did not align to my values and morals.
Phase 2: Reality (Black Principal notices and points out issues within organization)
When students returned from remote learning, every school system was rushing to discuss equity as it relates to the digital divide, especially with students living in poverty. Later, we learned that George Floyd was murdered. This brutal murder on television pushed out the value of justice which lived in me, and I was not going to let ANYONE silence this. Had microaggressions occurred before? Yes. Had I spoken up before? No. Yet, with the fearless awakening and the permission I gave myself for justice, I was no longer allowing this to happen to myself or any of the staff I led.
Yet, when I started calling out microaggressions, discrimination, and ways to handle situations more equitable, the attacks began towards me. Silly me for thinking an organization that paid thousands of dollars to invest in Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion wanted to be held accountable. How dare I think they’d want to follow what was being taught by the DEI company? I remember leaving my last meeting where I was made to feel disrespected from my all-white team.
“I am done with this conversation and will not continue it until you all can speak to me with respect.” Three white women and one other Black woman, 3 who were staff I supervised and 1 who supervised me, looked shocked. My experiences in that space ranged from being yelled at, silenced, cut off, private conversations being brought to the group, and decisions which were within my authority to make being made without my input. Before this day, I typically left meetings feeling drained, disempowered, and questioning my competence. I entered these same meetings with high anxiety. Trying not to snap and being disrespected kept me on alert. I spent my time during those meetings controlling my thoughts and emotions, despite what was happening to me. However, today was not the day and I was not taking anymore of this.
Phase 3: Response (Now begins the blame game)
After one of these traumatizing meetings, I remember asking a Black member of the team, “did you notice that?” The reply was, “oh! That’s just who they are.” Startled, I knew I was now alone. If a member of my own community could not validate what I was feeling, then a) my feelings were imaginary and b) it was just me and no one else. Yet, I also started questioning how much I could truly trust her. Trust is huge in teams, and if there was not one person I could trust, then this school and this meeting space was truly a war zone and not a thriving zone.
Even when reaching out to the Human Resources Officer, who was Black, I was made to feel like this was my fight. I remember being told to “put on my big girl britches” when I started retreating from the work and shutting down. I was even told that “since our ancestors had to go through this, why was I complaining?” Comments like this from viable members of my racial community and experts who were supposed to be able to help me, were disheartening and isolating. If I could not be seen by these people, then who can I be seen by? Who did care? Over this time, my anxiety increased, depression began, and the joyous person I used to be was leaving little-by-little every day. People would ask if I was ok and I didn’t feel like I could gain empathy anywhere, so I just masked and said I was fine.
Little did I know, this self-questioning and isolation is racism doing its job. Even being the gatekeeper of who is treated better plays tricks on the mind because how can a person be racist if they are not treating another team member of the same race that way? Yet, racism was pitting me against my community. Racism was telling me deceptions such as I cannot trust them, or that I was not being treated with respect because I did not have access to wealth like those who were treated fairly. However, I learned that none of this was true. It was just easy for people to not empathize because of the mentality of “if it’s not happening to me, then it’s not happening,” or so you think! This is the mind trick racism tries to play on you.
Phase 4: Retaliation (organization finds a way to make Black Principal resign)
Finally, I decided to act and speak up to my team and manager individually. While I thought this would made a difference, each person found a way to tell me what I did to cause the racist interaction. But I stood my ground and shared something with each of them that we had learned in our Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion training: Believe Black Women.
Over ten complaints later, my school network hired an outside organization to work with my team individually, and then together. When working with this organization, I was made to feel like I brought this harm upon myself, that I was acting immature, and that my character caused me to be harmed by racism. I remember the exact day when the supervisor of my manager asked the organization, “is this really racism or a struggle to communicate?” I was appalled. I knew at that moment there was no alignment between myself and this school. I needed to figure out an exit plan. Although, they created that plan first by implying that I lacked the communication skills required to lead the school. I exited gracefully and vowed to help every Black Principal thrive in organizations that bet against them.
Past Connects to Present
You may be wondering, so what does this have to do with the psychological warfare that occurred in slavery and Jim Crow? Just like the mom who watched her son be beaten in front of her for making a mistake or not following the rules hope and soul is taken away because she cannot advocate. I also saw my school community do the same. Teachers, students, and families began operating in fear and distrust. Everyone looked for ways to be less noticeable, less troublesome; and so they shrunk themselves to appease their aggressors.
My ultimate mistreatment really impacted the remaining Black staff. When Black teachers see their Black principal successfully targeted, they realize it can happen to them. These are teachers we try extremely hard to retain. In addition, black children in the school lose a role model, and potentially, their dreams. Depending on how the Black Principal exits, this may have a financial impact on their family too.
So, what can black principals do when they feel push-out happening?
Document all interactions. I kept a running journal of all interactions I had – big or small. I wrote what happened before, during, and after. I wrote exact dialogue and I tried to do this right after each conversation.
Find out who to complain to. Luckily, I had trusted people to help me navigate that process. Due to my documentation, I was able to share concrete and specific examples.
Trust Yourself. Don’t ever question, just believe. Yes, you felt that. Yes, that is what it was!
Strike 3, they’re out. I believe in having a conversation. Take your evidence and have a conversation with the aggressor. Tell them what you’re feeling, how it is impacting you, and what you need from them specifically to move forward. Again, write down this conversation. If it happens again, speak to them, going back to your agreements. Document again. Third time, you report.
Find Your Community. It is important to surround yourself with people who believe you. You wouldn’t believe how alone I felt during this process. I heard so many comments, which put the responsibility on me to navigate the racism, but nothing held the team responsible for executing it. If anyone starts this kind of talk, end the conversation—they are not your people.
Prioritize self-care. Take care of yourself through affirmations, time off, and finding joy. These are key when forces are tearing you down.
Being labeled and treated as “the problem” continues to show just how much we are still influenced by racist practices and white supremacist ideologies within schools. They want a black leader, but on their terms. Why is our authenticity considered a problem? This power construct upholds white supremacy, which we are trying to destruct within leadership and organizations. So, no you are not a problem. You are a solution. Don’t ever forget who you are and why those children need you!
Always Empowering You,
