Flipping the Switch on Code-Switching
*All names withheld for privacy.
Photo by Alex Starnes
The weary sighs. Matter-of-fact shrugs. Resignation. Yet and all, we master the instrument. Play it like a virtuoso.
A painstaking, modulated tone.
A carefully calibrated resting face.
A flat iron, to “tame” natural hair before an interview.
A cultural more or reference learned to avoid alienation.
Everyone code-switches. Regardless of color or creed. How you speak to your partner will not be how you converse with their parents.
For us, however, it’s a necessary tool for navigating places and spaces that were not carved to include – let alone acknowledge – Black and Brown women.
At its core, code-switching is a survival tactic. That sounds deep, maybe exaggerative. Yet, when cultural appeasement affects salaries, promotions, and seats at the table, sustenance is on the table. As is the wear-and-tear on our minds and bodies. No surprise when you consider we negotiate a whopping trifecta: the individual self, race, and gender.
While the degree to which we code-switch varies with industry, company culture, and personal comfort, it’s as ubiquitous as a resumé. Be it academia, advertising, entertainment, finance, the nonprofit sector, public policy, and STEM, to name but a lot.
“I feel like I am wearing an armor. I have to put [it] on before I go to work, but when I wear it, I can't move freely.” E., Social Policy Researcher*
“I literally add pitch to my tone to come off ‘softer.’” – T., music executive
“I have to look into things they are into [in order] to fit into their boys’ club talk.” S., film and video producer
“A reflection of the everyday ways in which white supremacy exists.” R., university professor
“What’s most frustrating is code-switching ultimately comes down to trying to make a certain group of people more comfortable with our presence and not threatened by [it].” C., senior marketing manager at a multinational technology company
The daily parking act at the office elevator doors adds up mentally and physically.
“[I’m] drained most times.” This from H., a director at the national leadership level of a high-profile nonprofit. “When I arrived, two of the older staff members on my team decided to retire early. One was brave enough to share that my demeanor made her feel uncomfortable. When I asked what exactly she meant, she said it was something she could not describe.”
For T., general manager at a record label, “you’re putting the comfort of others ahead of your own. Essentially, it is a form of self-erasure.” L., a VP of Business Operations in asset management, ranks “unspoken rules and litmus tests” as chief among exhaustions.
Exhausting, too, is the narrative at the wheel. The “angry” Black woman, the “feisty” Latina, and that classic catch-all: “attitude.” You need not pore over studies to assert that these stereotypes are rooted in a history we did not inform, and a deeply entrenched system we took no part in creating.
We can argue – and rightly so – that it’s not on us to bust up the foundation that sustains code-switching. However, we do bear a responsibility to our physical and mental health. And, inherent in that belief, is a strike against the systemic prejudice that compels us to inordinately tone police, belabor clothing choices, and curb our natural expressions. “Caring for myself is not self-indulgence” Audre Lorde reminds us. “It is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.”
So, how to both cope with and combat code-switching?
Remember: Code-switching is a burden placed upon you. It is neither your problem nor your job to deprogram closed minds. Remind yourself when you need to re-center after a draining interaction, meeting, or call.
Accept that, no matter what you do, “not everyone will connect or [want to] know you,” counsels H. And your validation as both a person and a professional is in no way tied to that.
Lean on your squad. Let yourself be cared for, and care for those in your circle. Because no one understands and relates to the highwire act better than fellow Black and Brown women.
Seek mentors — within or outside your field – with a strong sense of self, and ask how they’ve both maintained it and navigated code-switching.
“The comfort you feel in Year 3 is not the comfort you may feel on Day 1, and that is OK,” asserts C., now an entrepreneur and podcast host. Yet, as you ease into your power, challenge notions, and get comfortable having uncomfortable conversations. Understand that doing so also results in rewards for both you and others. “I use AAVE [African American Vernacular English] when talking with my Black students. I have never thought about it until this moment,” realized Professor R., “but perhaps I’ve also been trying to signal to them that it was ok to [do so] in a university setting.”
Seek out further resources on the issue. As with anything, the more informed you are, the better prepared you are to meet it. Here are some starting points:
The Costs of Code Switching (Harvard Business Review)
The Cost of Code-Switching by Chandra Arthur (TEDxOrlando)
The Mental Health Costs of Code-Switching (Talkspace)
There’s no denying that undue code-switching is a fact of life for many of us. But you can deny it power, validity, and impact when you view it for what it is: a byproduct of bigotry that says everything about others and nothing about you. As with any stressor, work to eliminate it but place your wellbeing and sanity above it all.
About the Author
Adriana Nova is an award-winning creative director for a public relations agency in New York. Connect with her on Twitter @adriananova_.