“Just like the White Agencies Do…”
For years “DJ Rale” was a quality ad firm and a pioneer among black businesses; they also needed interns during my sophomore year of college. By then my resume was mostly “executed thousands of 1-on-1 cash register transactions.” Still, I polished up my student portfolio, hit Kinko’s and went for it.
I met with “Mary,” a VP in client services—she was dressed to the nines, but ultra-conservative: All covered-up, no flossy jewels or gaudy fabrics. But there wasn’t a stitch of TJ Maxx in her game—you could smell the mark-ups as she spoke. We sat in a conference room that cost more than my first apartment. First we talked a lot about the pride they took in being “a strong black company” doing first-rate work for major clients. Next we covered everything from my grades to my career goals. Mary was polite, but the whole time she just seemed to be a bit disinterested in me as a candidate. I had to know if this was all in my head or what…
“Is there something wrong with my resume or portfolio?”
“No, no, actually your resume and everything is fine,” she replied. “I just expected you to be dressed better.”
I was wearing the only “better” clothes I had then: a buttoned-up shirt, dress shoes, and pressed khakis with a leather belt—it was actually my Pier 1 uniform minus the nametag. (I couldn’t afford anything nice that wasn’t functional. I did have a church suit but it was in the cleaners that week.)
“My clothes?”
“Well, yes. Our interns attend client meetings. And as the creative intern, you’d be working with our creative director—he wears 3 piece suits everyday.” As she rambled on about the creative director’s $1,000 suits all I could think was, “This is a 20 hour-a-week unpaid internship… I gotta spend money on clothes just to sit in an office looking rich and staying broke…” She wraps up her mini-lecture on professional attire with, “We do everything just like the white agencies do.”
Just like the white agencies do… She seemed so proud of herself and her company when she said that. Just like the white agencies do. This was 1991—black companies were under so much stress to “fit in.” To be cleaner, more professional, more polished, less threatening, etc. Doing things “just like the white companies do” was a sign of excellence. In fact, like many black companies back in the day, DJ Rale didn’t do Casual Fridays. Because most of their clients were white, they had to be on point at all times, including wardrobe. It was once explained to me like this: Black + casual = unprofessional.
For so long, whiteness has been the standard of quality and professionalism in every aspect of American society. For professionals like Mary and companies like hers living up to White America’s ideals was just business as usual. Today things are different, in most industries at least. But for many black professionals and black-run companies there remains a fair amount of pressure to do just like the white companies do.
I met with “Mary,” a VP in client services—she was dressed to the nines, but ultra-conservative: All covered-up, no flossy jewels or gaudy fabrics. But there wasn’t a stitch of TJ Maxx in her game—you could smell the mark-ups as she spoke. We sat in a conference room that cost more than my first apartment. First we talked a lot about the pride they took in being “a strong black company” doing first-rate work for major clients. Next we covered everything from my grades to my career goals. Mary was polite, but the whole time she just seemed to be a bit disinterested in me as a candidate. I had to know if this was all in my head or what…
“Is there something wrong with my resume or portfolio?”
“No, no, actually your resume and everything is fine,” she replied. “I just expected you to be dressed better.”
I was wearing the only “better” clothes I had then: a buttoned-up shirt, dress shoes, and pressed khakis with a leather belt—it was actually my Pier 1 uniform minus the nametag. (I couldn’t afford anything nice that wasn’t functional. I did have a church suit but it was in the cleaners that week.)
“My clothes?”
“Well, yes. Our interns attend client meetings. And as the creative intern, you’d be working with our creative director—he wears 3 piece suits everyday.” As she rambled on about the creative director’s $1,000 suits all I could think was, “This is a 20 hour-a-week unpaid internship… I gotta spend money on clothes just to sit in an office looking rich and staying broke…” She wraps up her mini-lecture on professional attire with, “We do everything just like the white agencies do.”
Just like the white agencies do… She seemed so proud of herself and her company when she said that. Just like the white agencies do. This was 1991—black companies were under so much stress to “fit in.” To be cleaner, more professional, more polished, less threatening, etc. Doing things “just like the white companies do” was a sign of excellence. In fact, like many black companies back in the day, DJ Rale didn’t do Casual Fridays. Because most of their clients were white, they had to be on point at all times, including wardrobe. It was once explained to me like this: Black + casual = unprofessional.
For so long, whiteness has been the standard of quality and professionalism in every aspect of American society. For professionals like Mary and companies like hers living up to White America’s ideals was just business as usual. Today things are different, in most industries at least. But for many black professionals and black-run companies there remains a fair amount of pressure to do just like the white companies do.
