Apparently, I Needed to Be White to Cut Carrots

30 years later and I still run into this same roadblock of racism.

With respect to my professional brothers and sisters in the culinary arts, I wasn’t too concerned about the complexities of a commercial kitchen as I had a penchant for knowing my way around a cutting board and a walk-in freezer. Although I wasn’t a chef, I did play one on TV.

For many college students, money can be difficult to come by. I roundly rejected the notion that money grew on trees, so if I wanted to make life easier for myself, I needed to land some type of summer employment — any gig that would provide pocket filler before the next semester.

As luck would have it, a friend of a friend who worked at a local country club knew of an open prep cook position with the kitchen staff. He knew I was looking for part-time work, so he asked if I would be interested. An opportunity I could not pass up.

Sharp dressed man

On the day of the interview, I spent less time concerned about what questions I might be asked than if I should shave off my Mohawk. Yes, this is correct.

At 19, and feeling rebellious, the decision to look more “professional” never took root. To my elementary way of thinking I would be in the confines of a cramped kitchen and not in front of diners so perhaps my choice of hairstyle would be forgiven.

In a failed attempt to emulate a member of one of my favorite bands at the time, I sported a Mohawk. Not those half-assed “faux hawks” high school hockey teams routinely adopted during the season — this was full middle stripe and down to the skin sides. The Kanyen’kehà:ka people would be proud. At an age when self-expression defined one’s identity, I often found myself wearing non-traditional garb, questionable piercings, and hairstyles based on current trends (well, maybe not).

Later, I would learn that the kitchen manager had made up her mind upon our introduction.

I recall walking into the club’s kitchen, Mohawk and all, and being introduced to the early skeleton crew who were busy preparing for the afternoon rush. Determined, my mind was set on the interview rather than on the collective side-eye I was receiving while walking past the prep station. Last to be introduced was the kitchen manager, who was less than gracious upon my arrival, and the one who ultimately would make the final decision on hiring.

Perhaps I read the room wrong, but just then, an involuntary wave of confidence washed over me as I thought since I had an “in,” at the very least, I would be considered favorably. Later, I would learn the kitchen manager had made up her mind upon our introduction.

Try not to cry when slicing onions

A few days later, a couple of friends including the one who brokered the interview were out making a mockery of the underage drinking law and getting reacquainted with our mutual friend Herb. Curious if a decision had been made on whether or not I got the job, I turned to my friend and inquired about my candidacy. As he took another sip of his Red Stripe, he mumbled, “yea, you didn’t get the job.” Hmm, a rather cavalier response, I remember thinking.

Oh really, I replied.

“Yea, sorry, man.”

Okay, well, did she tell you why?

Holding off an immediate response, my mind went right for… maybe it was the Mohawk. F*ck I knew I should have shaved it.

I doubled down with forced puzzlement. Did I not have enough experience? I’d be cutting carrots and onions. How difficult could it be?

The interview went well, I thought, and after all, I did have an “in,” yet I struggled to wrap my brain around why I didn’t get the gig. What was said next, I did not see coming.

“Nah man, actually, she said she wouldn’t hire a Black person.”

… And there it is.

What?

At that point in my life, I hadn’t been turned away from many things (that I know of) because of my race, so this little slice of “WTF” hung heavy in the air, waiting for its opportunity to bludgeon me again.

I was shocked yet at the same time, not.

Subconsciously I was prepared for the possibility of not getting the job because of my appearance — not my APPEARANCE. Somehow the reality of the situation took a while to compute in my young naive brain.

With the exception of the white kitchen manager, the entire kitchen staff was of Mexican descent. You could look at this picture in many different ways, and I have when brought back to this memory. It could be she had a thing for “over-lording” our good neighbors from the south and wanted nothing to do with other people. Maybe she just had it in for Black people. I’ll take racism for 1000 Alex. Either way, I had never been told directly or by a third party that I did not get a job specifically because of my race. Over the years I have come to realize this is all too common in the workplace and especially during the hiring process.

Even in my late teens, I knew what the world was like and how unjust it could be for Black people. Growing up in a predominately white community, I was reminded of this every day.

Don’t call us, we’ll call you

Regardless of the style of clothes you wear, hairstyle, experience (or lack thereof), racism follows you everywhere in the workplace, especially systemically.

Much has been written about the inequities Black candidates face during the hiring process. Looking at the research done by Everett J. Mitchell II and Donald Sjoerdsma, showing that ethnic minorities have to complete 50% more applications on average to get invited for a job interview compared with candidates in the white community. Of course, other factors such as names, photos, and affiliation with sociocultural groups could also trigger discrimination. This, all when HR departments and those “decision-makers” themselves typically don’t reflect society as a whole.

Clearly, the system is broken and has been for generations.

Every now and again I think of not getting that country club job because of my skin color, and how the hiring manager had little concern about expressing her overt racism by not wanting to hire a Black person. This is a sad reality that frequently shows its ugliness during the hiring process for Black candidates. I see this now in trying to resurrect a once-promising career. Often it feels like the ultimate conspiracy, but that’s for another discussion.

Handicapped since then by COUNTLESS interviews yielding no offers, I have concluded it’s not exclusively about skills, compensation, experience, or a “cultural fit.” Sometimes, it is just about race and those hiring teams who are the “gatekeepers” are simply biased.

More so now than at any other time in my life, I am convinced that the frequency of being passed over for a gig because of my race has defined my current lack of employment. This reality solidifies itself each and every time after I have a face-to-face with those who hold the power to change my career trajectory.

It’s been decades since growing out my hair, building a somewhat respectable career, and living a life with less frequent racist interactions, however, I am the same color I was when I was 19, and those experiences of not being provided certain opportunities still show themselves to this day. This, I have more than enough experience with.

Thank you for reading!