#3
“Seriously,” Gavin said. “What do we need diversity training for? Why the hell are we even still talking about this? Didn’t we just name two women in a row to the Supreme Court?”
Yep. And three white men in a row before that. But who’s counting?
Gavin shook his head. “I mean, for Chrissakes, look who’s sitting in the freaking White House! What more do they want? What’s next, maybe a wise Latina?” Gavin cracked himself up.
I coughed loudly, and they both looked up at me. Murph seemed startled.
“Oh, hey, no brownies today?” he said, shooting Gavin a warning look.
Gavin didn’t catch it. “It was a harmless skit. In bad taste, yes, but just a joke. Don’t these people have any sense of humor? I mean, can you imagine the uproar if I decided to start a White Male Eating Club at the firm?”
I couldn’t help letting out a quiet snort.
Gavin looked at me. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“No, what?”
I looked squarely at him. “Seriously, Gavin? The firm already is a white male eating club.”
Murph laughed.
“Well, what I don’t get,” Gavin continued, “is how they always keep talking about ‘equality.’ ”
I wondered who Gavin meant by they. And whether he would include me as part of them or us.
Now Gavin was making mock quotation marks in the air. “I mean, if they’re after equality, seems like it would make more sense to ignore race and gender instead of constantly drawing more attention to it, right?”
“This country isn’t ready yet to ignore race or gender,” I snapped, regretting it the instant it was out of my mouth.
Silence. My words hung there in the air.
“I didn’t know you felt that strongly about it one way or another, Yung,” Murph said softly.
“Yeah,” Gavin finally said. “I mean”—and he said this gently, in a conciliatory tone—“I wasn’t even talking about Asians.”
Murph shot him a you are fucking hopeless look.
Gavin went on, “Seems to me like Asian Americans have done all right.”
“Gee, thanks,” I said. “I’m really glad it seems that way to you, Gavin.”
“Come on. I’m just saying that by any objective economic measure, Asians are right up there with whites.”
“Gee willikers, Gavin, do you mean it? Really and truly?” I widened my eyes, made my voice high and earnest, and laced my hands together underneath my chin.
“You mean we’re really right up there? And if we promise to work really really hard and practice our English every day, would we even rate as honorary whites? ”
Now Gavin and Murph both stared at me.
If I were them, I’d be staring at me, too. I had never spoken to anyone like this at the office, least of all them. I had never even thought about saying these words before they came tumbling out of my mouth. Like they’d been trapped there for a long time.
I snuck a glance at Murph. In all the years we’d known each other, I’d never seen such utter bewilderment on his face. But I thought I was seeing something else, too; it looked like Murph was trying hard to keep the corners of his mouth from tugging upward.
“Anyway, can’t stay and chat.” I turned abruptly from the table.
Murph leaned over and reached for my elbow. “Hey, we didn’t—”
I cut him off. “I have to get that draft out to SunCorp today. See you guys later.”
Murph and Gavin exchanged glances. Avoiding eye contact with them, I walked out of the conference room and headed down the hall. I could imagine their conversation as soon as I was out of earshot.
Jesus. What’s her problem?
Beats me. Maybe that time of the month.
Heh. Yeah.
My hands were shaking. My face burned. I needed to get to my office—fast. I very rarely lost my cool at work. And I was furious with myself. I had just broken my own cardinal rule—to avoid discussing race with my colleagues. These were conversations doomed to turn out badly.
I was so painfully, tantalizingly close. All I had to do now was stay on track for a couple more weeks—just a couple more weeks!—and then I’d be one of them. I’d be in.
“Hey, Ingrid, wait up.”
Now what.
It was Marty Adler.
I’d made it as far as the elevator bank. I rearranged my face into as neutral an expression as I could manage.
“Ingrid,” he said, puffing a little from his brief jog down the hall. “Glad I caught you.” He reached over and pressed the down button for the elevator.
“Marty. What’s up?”
“You left so abruptly, I didn’t get a chance to personally introduce you to Dr. Rossi.”
“Oh? And why were you hoping to do that?”
He coughed. “Well, Ingrid, actually, the Management Committee met about this a couple of days ago, and, well, there seemed to be a prevailing consensus that, ah . . .”
“Yes?”
“We think you’d make a terrific associate liaison for our Diversity Initiative.” He beamed, as if this were very good news.
No, I thought. No, no, no, no, no.
When I didn’t answer right away, Adler tried grinning sheepishly. But sheepishness looked disingenuous on Marty Adler.
I stalled for time. “Associate . . . liaison?” I faked a perplexed, apologetic smile. “Sorry, what exactly is that?”
Adler was studying me carefully. He was about to call my bluff.
“Well, we’d really appreciate your help promoting this initiative, Ingrid.
You’re such a role model for our junior associates.
We could use your leadership. You know, work with Dr. Rossi, brainstorm ideas for the diversity and inclusion event we’re hosting.
Most of all, we need you to talk it up, get the major stakeholders on board, put the word out, yada, yada. ”
I felt exposed. Helpless. Like I was standing outside myself just watching this train wreck happen. And there was nothing I could do to stop it. They were officially crowning me the Parsons Valentine Diversity Poster Girl, because, as usual, I was running unopposed.
“Listen, Marty.” I kept my voice level. “You know how busy I’m going to be with SunCorp heating up. I need to give that deal one hundred percent.”
Adler turned his head a little to the side and rubbed his chin. The warmth drained from his expression. He said slowly, in a voice I’d only heard him use once or twice before and never with me, “Well, perhaps you’ll just have to find it in yourself to give one hundred and ten percent then, Ingrid.”
I hesitated, and he saw me hesitate. Adler had nothing if not that killer instinct, and now he pounced.
“I think you know how grateful the firm would be if you were to help us out in this capacity. I don’t have to tell you how much we value an associate’s nonlegal contributions to the firm when we’re making our partnership decisions. ”
This was almost out of bounds—a dirty, underhanded move—and we both knew it.
“I’d be glad to help with the Diversity Initiative in any way possible,” I said, with a steel smile. “I’ll speak with Dr. Rossi first thing.”
Adler brightened. He smiled and half-shrugged in mock relief. “Thank you, Ingrid.” He pressed his hand lightly against my back. “I knew we could count on you.”
The doors to one of the elevators opened, and he gestured inside. “After you.”
I shook my head. “No, I’ll take the next one.” I added, “I’m going up.”
Adler stepped into the elevator. “Suit yourself,” he said.
As if that were really an option.