“For your information”—Shanika started jabbing her finger in his chest—“I’m black. I’m just as black as you.”
“I know that—”
“Well, do you know that it’s because I’m not considered black enough that I didn’t get the job?”
“What!” Joseph said in a hoarse whisper.
“What are you talking about? Who said you’re not black enough?” Shanika and Joseph turned at the sound of their mother’s voice. Rina stood there, in the middle of the floor, wiping her hands on a dish towel and looking back and forth at them. “What do you mean you weren’t black enough for the job?”
“Nothing, Mama,” Shanika said finally. She took a deep breath and started to leave the room.
“Girl, get your ass right back in here and finish what you were saying,” Rina said in a low voice that sounded like a growl. “Don’t you play with me, hear?”
Shanika turned to face her mother. “Mama, I did get a call from that lady at Paxon and Green that I was telling you about. Mrs. Randolph. She told me—”
“What? You said you hadn’t heard from them yet!” Rina clutched the dish towel tightly and sank into the chair that Joseph had vacated. “When did she call?”
“The day after I got home.”
“Why didn’t you tell someone?” Joseph demanded.
“Because I’m hoping she’s going to call back,” Shanika said defiantly.
“Well, what did she say, child?” Rina asked.
Shanika took a deep breath. “She said that Paxon and Green were looking for a black to fill the job. They have to keep the numbers up to meet their affirmative action quotas. When the guy in charge of their Affirmative Action Committee, that guy Jeff Samuels I mentioned, when he got my application and saw my name and saw that I went to an HBCU, he assumed I was black. But then when he saw me in person, he assumed I was white.”
Rina threw her hands up in the air. “Well, why don’t you just tell him that you’re black?”
“That’s what I suggested to Mrs. Randolph. She knows I’m black. But she said that if we told him, he still probably wouldn’t let them hire me, because he’d consider it a slap in the face of the Affirmative Action Committee. They want the position to go to someone who everyone can look at and know they’re black.”
“Joseph”—Rina turned to her son with pleading eyes— “they can’t do that, can they? Can’t she sue them or something?”
“Of course, Mama.” Joseph started rubbing his mother’s back.
“Oh, Mama, that wouldn’t work,” Shanika said impatiently. “They’d never admit that was the reason. They’d just point to my inexperience and say they didn’t hire me because of that.”
“Well, wouldn’t this Mrs. Randolph person stand up for you in court? You said she’s the one who told you what the real deal is, right?” Joseph asked.
“Do you really think she’s going to say something like that in court?” Shanika guffawed. “She’d lose her job and I still probably wouldn’t win my case. She told me what she told me on the down low.”
Joseph sat on the arm of Rina’s chair. “Nikkie, what did you mean when you said you’re waiting for Mrs. Randolph to call you back?”
Shanika crossed her arms, a defiant expression on her face. “Mrs. Randolph said—she suggested—that I wait and let them fill that affirmative action position, and that she’d do what she could to hire me in another trainee position in another one of their offices.”
“I see,” Joseph said slowly. “A trainee position, but not an affirmative action trainee position.”
“Right.”
“So, basically, a white trainee position?”
Shanika hesitated. This was exactly why she hadn’t told them about her conversation with Mrs. Randolph in the first place. There was no way they could understand.
“A white trainee position?” Joseph asked again.
“It’s not a white trainee position,” Shanika finally said. “It’s just a trainee position.”
“So let me get this straight. The position you interviewed for was for a black trainee. But since you’re not black enough to get that, as you say, you’re going to interview for a regular trainee position. Is that right?”
Shanika jutted out her chin. “Basically.”
“But if you’re a trainee, and you’re not a black trainee, wouldn’t that make you a white trainee?” Joseph said in a level voice.
“It would just make me a trainee.”
“Now, who thinks the other person is stupid, Shanika?” Joseph’s voice rose a couple of decibels. “This Mrs. Randolph is saying you should go in there and be white.”
“No, she’s not!” Shanika walked over to her mother and knelt at her knee. “Mama, all it is, it’s like this, in this new trainee position it doesn’t matter what color you are, and in the other it does. And I’m not the color they want.”
“Yes, but . . . well, I mean . . . I don’t understand. One position you have to be black and the other you don’t?” Rina started twisting the dish towel in her lap.
“Exactly, Mama. I don’t have to say I’m white. I don’t have to say anything at all for this other position coming up.”
“Then are you going to tell them you’re black?” Rina’s eyes took on a pleading look again. “I mean, if it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, right?”
“That’s right, Mama. It doesn’t matter.”
“So you will tell them?”
“Mama, they’re not going to ask.”
“So, why should you tell, right?” Joseph said in a steely voice. “It’s like the military thing with gays, huh? ‘Don’t ask, don’t tell’?”
“Come on, Joseph. It’s not like that! If they don’t ask, there’s no reason for me to mention it, not until I actually have the job. You know, just to make sure.”
Rina grasped Shanika’s shoulder tightly. “But as soon as you got the job, you’d tell them, honey? Wouldn’t you?”
“Of course, Mama,” Shanika said soothingly. “You know I’m not trying to pass or anything.”
“Oh, Mama.” Joseph jumped up from the arm of the chair. “Who is she trying to kid? That’s exactly what she’s talking about doing.”
“Oh, dear God, Joseph. That’s not what the girl is saying.”
“Mama, that’s exactly what she’s saying. Oh, not coming out directly and saying it, but that’s what the deal is. Let’s call a spade a spade.”
“Funny choice of words,” Shanika muttered.
“Yeah, very funny.” Joseph shot her an evil look. “And on point, too.”
“Well, why shouldn’t I pass for white if it’s going to help me get this job?” Shanika stood up and faced her brother. “All my life I’ve been made to feel like I didn’t fit in as a black.”
“Shanika, that’s not true,” Rina protested.
“Mama, you know it is!” she said, turning to her mother. “How many times did I come home crying because the kids teased me because I was so light? How many times did I come home beaten up and bruised after being jumped by a gang of girls who thought I was trying to act like I was white?”
“Oh, so your solution is that now you’re going to be white, huh?” Joseph challenged her.
“No, I’m not going to be white. I’m black, and I know I’m black, but since I finally have an opportunity for my complexion to work in my favor, why shouldn’t I take it? It’s not like I’m the first person to do it.”
Rina put her hands up to her ears. “Will the two of you please stop shouting?”
“Nikkie, people used to pass because they had to. Because they were discriminated against, because they couldn’t get jobs—”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Joe! Isn’t that what I just said happened to me here in this case? Only I’m not being discriminated against because I’m black, but because I’m not black enough!”
“It’s not the same thing, Nikkie. You can get a job, you just can’t get that particular job,” Joseph shouted. “You’re just l
azy, impatient, and spoiled. You want what you want when you want it.”
Nikkie crossed her arms and glared at him. “Yeah, that’s right. And I’m going to get what I want. I’m going to get this job.”
“By passing for white.” Joseph’s lips curled. “But then again, you’ve always figured out some way to get what you want, haven’t you? And you’ve never been called on it, because you’re ‘our darling Shanika, and isn’t she cute?’ Well, you know what? You’re grown now, Nikkie. And you’re not so damn cute anymore.”
“I never said I was cute.”
“It’s not cute to turn your back on your family in order to get a job, and it’s downright ugly to turn your back on your race to get one,” Joseph continued, ignoring Shanika’s interruption. “Turn your back on your race if you want to, but you’d best remember, when you burn bridges like that, you’re going to have a helluva time trying to cross back over to the other side when you need to do so.”
“I never said I was turning my back on anyone,” Shanika shouted. “Don’t be trying to twist my words!”
“Well, then, what do you call it?” Joseph shouted back. “If you’re going to pretend to be white, you can’t very well have pictures of your own mother on your desk, now can you? And I can’t just stop by and visit to take you to lunch without you introducing me as someone other than your own brother, now can I?”
“Stop being stupid. I’m going to be in New York. You planning on coming out all the way there to take me to lunch?”
“That’s not the point.”
“Well, then, what is the damn point?” Shanika challenged him.
“Now who acting stupid?” Joseph threw up his hands. “The point is you going to acknowledge me if I did want to stop by your office.”
“Yeah, well, as far as I’m concerned, the point is moot. Like I said, you’re not coming to New York anytime soon to take me to lunch, and by the time you did get around to it, I wouldn’t have to act like I didn’t know you or anything, because by then I’ll let everyone know I’m black.”
“Well, that’s mighty white of you. But don’t do me any favors, because as far as I’m concerned, if you go through with this charade you don’t have a brother. And I sure as hell don’t have a sister.”
“So, now, who’s turning their back on who?” Shanika poked out her lips. “You talk about me disowning you and Mama, but it sounds like you’re the one disowning me.”
“Joe, your sister’s just . . .”
Joseph bent down and kissed his mother on the cheek. “Mama, I’ve got to go. I’ll give you a call later, okay?”
“But, Joseph”—Rina put her hand on her son’s arm—“I don’t want you and your sister fighting like this. You know I hate when you fight. And she’s not—”
“Mama, she can do whatever she wants. I’m not going to fight with her. She knows how I feel. You know how I feel. And I would have thought you’d feel the same way—”
“But, Joe—”
Joseph held his hands up in front of him. “Mama, I’m not saying another word. I’m not even mad. I just don’t even want to talk about it anymore.” He kissed her again and headed out the door.
Shanika watched him go, not sure what to say. She’d known she was going to have to have this conversation, and she knew it was going to be tough. She also knew she hadn’t handled it well.
“Okay, Joseph,” she finally called after him. “I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah, okay, White Girl.”
The words stung Shanika like never before.
Chapter Seven
JUNE 2007
Why not beat them at their own game?” Mrs. Randolph said as she cut into her prime rib at Morton’s Steak-house. “I do think you should change your name because Shanika really is too Afrocentric-sounding. Eventually, someone will catch wise if you keep it, but otherwise, it’s not going to be like you’re lying to anyone. Send in your résumé again, with your new name, but otherwise the same information.”
“But won’t they be able to tell?” Shanika asked nervously. “I mean, my résumé doesn’t say that I’m black, but it does have that I attended an HBCU and that I was secretary of the African-American student union.”
“Take out the African-American student union thing, but don’t worry about your school. Hell, most black people don’t know that Delaware State is an HBCU, and I know the white folks at Paxon and Green don’t know.”
Shanika fingered her napkin as she listened to the composed woman sitting across the table. Two weeks had passed since Mrs. Randolph’s first telephone call saying that she wouldn’t get the job, and she’d all but given up hope on the second position when Mrs. Randolph called to say she was in Detroit for the National Black Public Relations Society Conference and wanted to meet with her for lunch.
“And you really don’t think I’ll be caught?”
Mrs. Randolph gave a little laugh. “No, I really don’t think you’ll be caught. And I don’t believe I really have to convince you of that fact. Come on, now,” Mrs. Randolph lowered her voice. “Are you going to tell me that most everyone who looks at you doesn’t already assume you’re white?”
“Well, yes, but . . .”
“And are you going to tell me that when it’s to your advantage you don’t sometimes let them keep that assumption?” Mrs. Randolph’s eyes twinkled.
Shanika’s mind flew back to her meeting with Cindy and her friends. “Well, I mean, there have been some occasions, but . . .”
“Well, this would be one time that it would truly be to your advantage. So take advantage, my dear child, take advantage. The only one who might present a challenge is Jeff Samuels, but he’s retiring in two weeks.”
Shanika nodded and took a sip of her Diet Coke. It sounded easy—too easy, in fact. And why would . . .
“I’m surprised you haven’t asked why I’m willing to help you with this little charade,” Mrs. Randolph said suddenly.
Shanika smiled. “I was just wondering about that.”
“Well, to be honest, it would be like my little private joke on them.”
“What do you mean?”
“Shanika, I’ve been at Paxon and Green for almost thirty-five years now.” She paused and smiled at Shanika’s expression. “Yes, thirty-five years. I look good for my age, don’t I? But
like they say, black don’t crack.”
Both women laughed.
“As I was saying, I’ve been at Paxon and Green for thirty-five years. I was one of the original affirmative action babies at Paxon and Green, hired back in the seventies when large liberal firms were scrambling to bring in minorities to show just how liberal they were. But even though I graduated summa cum laude from NYU with a marketing degree, the furthest I’ve ever gotten in the firm is personal assistant. Now, don’t get me wrong.” Mrs. Randolph dabbed at the corner of her mouth with her napkin. “Personal assistant to the president of a Fortune 500 firm is a very big deal, and the salary and the benefits are better than I ever dreamt about, growing up in North Philadelphia, but the fact is, I had the potential to be so much more. I should be in line for the presidency when Kadinsky retires next year. But I’m not even going to be considered. Now, is that because I’m black? Who’s to say? But I will say that in all the time I’ve been there, and we’ve already established I’ve been there for way too long, there’s not been one black public relations associate who has even moved into the vice presidency, no less been in a position to take over the presidency.”
“What about Mr. Samuels? Isn’t he a vice president?”
Mrs. Randolph waved her hand. “Jeff is vice president of accounting. We also have a black vice president of human resources. And a Puerto Rican vice president of labor relations. But there’s not one person of color in a prominent public relations position.”
“I see.”
“Do you?” Mrs. Randolph took another bite of her steak.
“Now, I’m not saying we haven’t hired any blacks as public relations specialis
ts, we certainly have. Quite a number. But they’re always put in a position where they eventually crack their head on the infamous glass ceiling. They’re put under one of the superstar specialists, helping out with large accounts, but never given one of their own so they can shine. The smart ones eventually get tired and leave to start their own firms. And with good reason. They’re just not going to get far at Paxon and Green. History has proven that.
“Now, I’m going to be retiring very soon with a big fat pension and I’m going to spend my retirement basking in the glow of the Caribbean sun, but there would be nothing that would give me more pleasure than to have placed a spook inside of Paxon and Green’s office door.”
Shanika raised her eyebrows in surprise.
“Oh, come now, you have heard of the book The Spook Who Sat by the Door, haven’t you?” Mrs. Randolph put her fork down. “By Sam Greenlee?”
“Oh! Oh yeah. I had to read it for second-year lit. About the black guy who went to work for the CIA or the FBI or something, and learned all of their secrets and used it against them.”
“Exactly. Well, I’d get a real kick out of putting in my own little spook.” Mrs. Randolph chuckled. “I’d love to see the look on their face if you moved up the ranks, became president, and then they find out you’re actually black.”
Shanika paused, trying to take this all in. Was this woman saying that she thought she had what it takes to be the president of Paxon & Green? Wouldn’t that just be something? Boy, she could just see her name engraved on the office door.
“That’s not to say you’d ever become president, of course. I wouldn’t expect for you to pass for that long, just long enough to position yourself in the company,” Mrs. Randolph said as if reading her mind. “And when they did find out, it would be my own little joke on them.” She reached over and placed her hand over Shanika’s. “Our little joke.”
It had been just as simple as Mrs. Randolph said it would be. A couple of forms to fill out over the Internet, a thirty-nine-dollar filing fee, and voila! Shanika Jenkins was now Nicole Jensen. There was no hassle to it at all. She took the certification she received in the mail to the Social Security office, and very soon she had a new Social Security card. A trip to the Bureau of Vital Statistics and she even had a new birth certificate. Of course, she hadn’t told her family what she was doing, but then again, why should she bother them with minor details? The bottom line was she was going to be an official employee of Paxon & Green, and that was all that mattered. Her dreams were finally going to come true.
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