White Tears
WHITE TEARS
Now
The Hoffman nonfiction team is seated in the largest meeting room, a space that is overbearingly corporate and rarely used. In the corner is a Nespresso machine that very few people know how to work, with assortments of individually wrapped biscuits that have gathered dust. Shirin thinks back to her younger self and wonders what she would think if she could see herself now. She might be proud—that is, if she could only see her future and not hear the conversation going on around her right now.
It is not discussions about diversity and inclusion that Shirin has developed an aversion to, it is how often they are spoken about with little follow-through. It is the assumption that the few people of color in a team should speak up about a company’s issues—and provide solutions—even though they are rarely listened to because they are all assistants. It is the phrase We need to do better, which people have adopted to cop out of actually doing better. It is the repeated conversations about the senior team being painfully middle-class and white, and then the company repeatedly hiring more white middle-class staff in senior positions (and, in turn, not promoting junior staff of color).
Perhaps she might not have let herself get wound up by all of this if it wasn’t for the fact that Florence is now the lead on Shirin’s project with Abigail Underwood. At the acquisitions meeting for Abigail’s book, Florence, with her gratingly posh voice, dominated the conversation. It didn’t help that at the start of it, the MD—Allegra—forgot Shirin’s name. She said, “Welcome, Florence,” paused for three beats, looked down at her piece of paper, and then said, “and Shirin.” Shirin and Florence are now working together to put in an offer to Abigail’s agent, though Shirin does most of the work, while Florence is congratulated by their managers.
There are twenty people sitting around the table. Shirin is next to Mariam, and they exchange glances as Allegra speaks. She tells the team that the results of their employee and consumer survey suggest that Hoffman is not a diverse or inclusive publisher.
As Allegra speaks she has a grim look on her face, as though the fact that the nonfiction team has not published a book by a non-white author for more than two years now is news to her, as though their attempts to fix the issue by asking white authors to write about Black British history are not part of the problem. It is strange to Shirin how senior team members act as though they are not aware of the issues in their company when it is their literal job to oversee everything. “Does anyone have any suggestions about what we could be doing better? Remember, this is a safe space,” Allegra says. Covertly, eyes are cast toward Shirin and Mariam. They are the only people of color seated at the table. It is funny how their input is so much less valuable when talking about a potential acquisition, which is what they are paid to offer input on, rather than about issues of diversity and inclusion in the workplace.
Silence.
Shirin taps her leg with her forefinger.
One.
?Two.
??Three.
???Four.
????Five.
Her gaze remains on the gray table, at a stray hair there. It is blond and mid-length, with a slight curl in the middle. It could belong to any one of her colleagues really.
????Six.
???Seven.
??Eight.
?Nine.
Ten.
“Our author base could be more diverse,” an editor named Cassie says. “We definitely don’t have enough LGBTQ authors.”
“Or people from working-class backgrounds,” one northern marketer adds.
“And we are doing our best trying to acquire BIPOC authors, they’re just hard to find. But for representation, we should show different types of people, different col—” Cassie stumbles on her words, smiles as though she is trying very hard.
Everyone gives her patient, encouraging smiles back.
Shirin keeps her gaze on the table.
“Different races, ethnicities, I mean—BAME people. Or people of color.”
Shirin brings her eyes up and sees Cassie’s face is pink now. The conversation swiftly moves away from her faux pas and on to another one.
“We’re meant to be following trends and we’re missing such a big one,” a publicity director named Jessica says. “We need to move quicker with our D her mind is too busy and she cannot allow herself to go there right now.
Instead she continues with her work and goes through her endless emails. She has one from two minutes ago, with no subject, from a colleague. She opens it: You spoke so brilliantly and eloquently earlier. I just wanted to let you know x
Shirin furrows her brows and does not respond, does not move for a moment. She is thinking: Surely not, surely…
Another message comes in almost instantly: Sorry, I just realized I emailed the wrong person. Ignore this!
Mariam looks nothing like her, is five foot ten, Palestinian, and wears a hijab. Shirin is five foot three, Iranian, and her hair is bleached blond.
Shirin promptly forwards the email to Mariam.
Mariam replies: LOL .
She shrugs it off as being one of those things, but for the rest of the day she cannot stop thinking about how, to some people, if you’re not white you’re all the same.