Manners and Microaggressions

“That man has no brought-upsy.”

That’s what I would hear my Jamaican mother mutter when she witnessed rude behavior in another adult.

(You have to imagine the accent.)

The expression implies that bad manners reflected shamefully on the whole family. That message landed heavy on me growing up. We were expected to behave respectfully when out and about, and especially when interacting with adults—and extra specially with elders.

The rules of etiquette were a basic part of growing up: your “brought-upsy.”

I think about that expression sometimes when I talk about microaggressions—or when I experience them.

“Where are you from? I mean, where are you really from?”

“Can I touch your hair? It’s so exotic!”

“Your name is so long. Mind if I call you Molly instead?”

All-too-common comments like these—or any of the other momentary triggers faced by people in marginalized groups—seem like “no big deal” to the people perpetrating them. But they create a chronic feeling of otherness for those targeted.

Another way to put it? They are rude.

And they could actually be prevented if folks would just use good manners.

In Jamaica, your “good brought-upsy” would have taught you that it’s rude to highlight what you perceive as people’s differences if you don’t know them. You wouldn’t ask intrusive questions. You wouldn’t cut in front of them in line, or let a door slam in someone’s face. You wouldn’t mispronounce their name.

(I was going to say you wouldn’t interrupt someone—but actually, in Jamaica it was insensitive not to interrupt. It implies you aren’t engaged in the conversation!)

If we recall our early lessons in manners, and treat others with respect, we would go a long way toward reducing the interpersonal irritants that fall especially hard on women and people of color, as well as so many other people not associated with the dominant group.

But of course it’s not that simple. Stereotypes and biased ideology are also part of the “brought-upsy” we get in today’s world.

So while we all want to be respectful to others, we don’t always see everybody as equally worthy of respect.

We are always relearning our good manners, even as adults. And when I call someone by the wrong name, or make a false assumption about where someone is from, I hear my mother disapprove in her beautiful accent.

“Where is your brought-upsy!”

Why Did the DEI Consultant Cross the Road?

When my temporary disability began a few months ago, I became more aware of the physical obstacles that prevent so much of our world from being accessible to everyone.

Now I am noticing a barrier that isn’t covered by the Americans with Disabilities Act: other people.

The way individual people behave can either be a help or a hindrance. When I’m out and about, a lot of people will open doors for me and make an effort to assist. And boy, do I notice the people who do the opposite—the ones who step on my heels or rush to get around me—and put me at risk of falling.

Recently I was in a parking lot, slowly crutching my way through a crosswalk. An oncoming driver looked at me and made the decision to drive across the crosswalk ahead of me. Then another group of people started crossing from the other side so she had to stop. Now her car was in the middle of the crosswalk, completely blocking my path.

I looked at her, assuming I’d see an apologetic shrug. She conspicuously avoided eye contact.

Another day, the only accessible stall in a public restroom was occupied by someone who didn’t appear to need to use the grab bars. I felt frustrated.

But I remembered, with a prick of shame, that I too have used the accessible restroom at the airport just to accommodate my carry-on bag. Now that I have a physical disability, I’m more keenly aware of the disparate impact that selfishness has on folks whose mobility is limited. Going forward, I will definitely try to scan those around me for potential accessibility needs before I give myself permission to put my needs first.

But that only tells me who is struggling with obstacles that others can see. This is where inclusive behavior broadens to encompass all forms of courtesy and kindness. The fact is, we never know what our colleagues, clients, or strangers we interact with are struggling with.

Maybe someone at the side of the road has a pain condition that makes standing difficult.

A meeting participant may be hard of hearing, and our refusal to use a microphone in a meeting puts them at a disadvantage.

They may have lupus, and an early morning call interferes with their energy management.

Or they may have to pick up their child from daycare unexpectedly, and that deadline may need to be adjusted.

Responding to issues like these is essential to equity. Anticipating them? That’s inclusion.

When I recover from my surgery, I’ll go back to having the privilege of being able-bodied—and people who don’t stop for me in the crosswalk will be merely rude.

The Red Flags of Bias

Those of us who hire, promote, or assign projects in our organizations are effectively gatekeepers in our organizations’ efforts toward diversity, equity, and inclusion. We have a responsibility to make staffing decisions based on objective criteria.

But no matter how much care we take to distribute opportunities based on people’s skills and capacities, their cultural or social identities still influence us—sometimes unconsciously.

It’s not always easy to spot the moments when our conscious decisions are being affected by unconscious bias and stereotypes. But I’ve found there are few red flags.

As you are justifying a personnel decision, does any of your reasoning refer to…

• A personality type? Do someone’s characteristics, like being confrontational, or shy, make you think they aren’t the right person to go with? Subjective words like these may be a tell that bias is at work, because we often associate these traits with particular genders and races. Ask yourself: Is there an upside to this personality trait that would actually make it desirable for the role?

• “Professionalism”? If this word is coming to mind, dig deeper into the specific issue that brought it there. Did they use a term that surprised you (say, identifying themselves as “queer”)? Or maybe they have an afro or a tattoo, or speak with an accent. These superficial markers don’t make someone professional. It’s their behavior: things like work ethic, integrity, collaboration, service orientation, and commitment to excellence. Don’t lose out on someone with these qualities because you have a bias against the way they look or talk.

• Someone else’s reaction? Here’s one I encountered recently: “I’m not uncomfortable with [employee x], but the client might be.” This might be true, or it might not. But either way, it amounts to discrimination—if the reason for the “discomfort” is their gender expression, their race, their disability, or other aspect of their identity. Don’t use the excuse that others might be biased. The only person whose actions you can control is you.

There are many other clues like these that might point toward unconscious bias underlying decisions. But the sooner you catch them, the more you give your brain a chance to see what’s really in front of you.

Our unconscious brains are always trying to run away with our decision-making ability. The more we practice noticing and pushing back when they do, the more likely we’ll make choices that enrich our organizations with the benefits of diversity.