I’m Shaking My Head Too
Watching Sean Spicer 3/28/17
“Stop shaking your head.”
A grown-up man said that to a grown-up woman on Tuesday. I watched and felt the trigger of an old, familiar situation.
After hearing of the showdown between April Ryan of American Urban Radio Networks and White House Press Secretary, Sean Spicer, I decided to watch the debacle for for myself. You can watch the 3 minute conversation here:
From the beginning, Ms. Ryan is clearly triggered by what she perceives to be a less than gracious response from Mr. Spicer when he indicates that it’s her turn to ask questions. Perhaps he’s steeling himself for her trademark diligence in her approach to covering the White House. At that moment, only he knows. Ms. Ryan’s question is something the White House should consider with President Trump’s approval rating continuing to fall: “How does this administration revamp its image?” It’s hard to tell where the switch is flipped but flipped it is and the mention of the word Russia sends Mr. Spicer spiraling off of his professional mark. “YOU’VE got Russia” at :40 marks the beginning of a standard Spicer verbal beat down. It’s a technique he uses frequently, verbally overwhelming his questioner.
He’s scolding her for persisting in her line of questioning. Ms. Ryan, a true professional, consistently returns to her point while Mr Spicer’s intensity ramps up. She shakes her head to disagree with his attack and he tells her to stop.
If you’ve watched Mr. Spicer at other times (I have!) you already know his disdain for the press, especially those reporters that won’t yield to his effort to display power. He may not have done this on purpose (or maybe he did), but in this moment with Ms. Ryan, Mr. Spicer steps into a gender and racially charged landmine.
He is the white, male spokesperson with a white, male boss who is not at all uncomfortable cavorting with white supremacists. From this position (physically elevated above her, no less) he tells a black woman who is in reality his peer, to “stop shaking [her] head.” He tells her to step back, to remember her place in this social order. He’s speaking to her and I’m remembering those who’ve spoken to me in the same way.
I wish it were only one encounter but there are several. Colleagues mostly, a friend one time. They’ve all been white males seeking to silence me. Some sought to over-power me with their position and anger while others sought to reduce me with undermining whisper campaigns. The content of the conflicts varied but the demand has always been the same: Stop.
Stop making decisions, even though you’re in charge. Stop speaking of racism;it makes me uncomfortable. Stop sounding so confident; it’s intimidating. Remember your place, they said. I often wonder if they were really saying don’t forget MY place: I’m supposed at the front of the line. I’m supposed to be controlling this narrative.
My response during these unexpected verbal eruptions is similar to what I saw Ms. Ryan do: stick to the facts, focus on the mission. In these moments of conflict where I’ve “forgotten” my place, I refuse to let my narrative be swallowed into non-existence. In response I find my aggressors tend to press harder, like Sean Spicer’s insistence on talking over April Ryan.
“At some point, April,” said Mr. Spicer, failing to push Ms. Ryan’s questions into oblivion, “you’re going to have to take no for an answer…” Ms. Ryan, the seasoned professional, returned the next day, continuing to ask hard the hard questions.
Inspired by Mr. Spicer’s gaff and Bill O’Reilly’s insulting remarks regarding Senator Maxine Waters, black women took to twitter amplifying the ridiculousness of racially demeaning situations we face in the workplace everyday.
There is an ironic gift in seeing your pain acted out on a national stage. What I’ve considered in solitude, after each moment of demeaning aggression, turns out to be an experience shared by a community of sisters. What happened between Mr. Spicer and Ms. Ryan isn’t unusual, it’s just not usually on display.
You are not crazy “butterfly.” And neither am I.
