To be the ‘Exception’ and to be Exceptional

I've been thinking of a lot of different words and their meanings lately. I've been thinking of how our language and cultural backgrounds affect our thought processes and how we interact.

I recently read a phenomenal book by Renée Watson called Piecing Me Together. It was about a young Black collage artist who was invited on scholarship to a special private school and mentorship program. She accepted this opportunity mostly because she wanted to find a way out of her circumstances. A few lines in that book were powerful enough to envelop me fully into this world and make me have to remind myself I wasn't reading my own story. This book pulled thoughts and experiences from my own life and breathed meaning into things I had puzzled over why they had upset me.

One of the many circumstances she goes through is how she's given opportunities, and though she's singled out and isolated she is expected to be thankful that she's been given so much. Whenever she wants to find a way to contribute her talents back to the program, she finds her contributions aren’t good enough. Instead, she feels the pressure to be ‘fixed’ or molded to fit an image of something she isn’t. I'm not sure if other minorities feel this way but it certainly resonated with my experience. I am often given opportunities, which I am grateful for. But they are sometimes given to me condescendingly. As if I should be happy I'm even allowed in the rooms I’m in. As if I hadn’t worked hard to be in those spaces, and it’s a blessing just to be seen, but I certainly shouldn’t be heard. As if I should accept that just because I’m invited to a space that is rare for someone like me to be in, I should be expected to accept any maltreatment that comes with it. As if the programs I'm given are meant to better assimilate and fix me, instead of working with who I am and where I am at.

I am reflecting on statements in this Piecing Me Together book that talk about how our language changes our perceptions. How this character created a phenomenal piece of art and was showing it to sponsors, whose only comments were on how surprised they were at her ability to be articulate. When I read this particular passage I wasn't in 2023, on a sofa reading a book. I was transported back to 2018, teaching an educational program at my zoo. It’s important to note that this was a paid program where guests were meant to speak to an expert about elephants. Now, an expert can mean a lot of different things to a lot of different people. But at the bare minimum, you should know the person who is an 'expert' can string a few words together in a sentence, enough to be considered ‘articulate’. They can explain their expertise and clarify any questions you have. I was an experienced and professional educator.

So, imagine my situation, where I am constantly interrupted by a guest while explaining how incredible African Elephant family dynamics are, to be interrupted by some guy just to harp over and over about how articulate I was. The first time he said it I was gracious, I said thank you and tried to get back to the subject at hand. But he wouldn't get off of the subject- he kept insisting on knowing my background. Which is also normally fine and I'm happy to share career details with interested people. But his tone of voice wasn't mere curiosity, it was genuine shock and surprise. And it bothered me. I couldn't define why at the time because the reality was I had 4 more tours and lunch to get through, and bills to pay and he was a small blip in my day. But I remember speaking about it to coworkers later, who didn't seem to get why it bothered me. They thought I should just take it as a compliment at face value. Which, maybe I was tempted to do. But some of my coworkers had also interacted with this guest, and he never commented on their ability to be 'articulate'. So of course to my coworkers, it may not have seemed annoying or strange that I was the only one he made these comments to. I know some people will miss the underlying tone, so let me spell it out for you; all of my coworkers were taught the same content, I was the only Black woman. I also was the only one who ever got these comments from guests, coworkers, or managers.

Thinking back on this event, while reading this book I got to thinking about the differences between being an ‘exception’ and being exceptional. I started thinking about how with just a few additional letters the meaning of these two words changed.

An exception is defined as a person or thing excluded from a general statement or does not follow a rule.

Exceptional is defined as unusual, not typical, or outstanding.

These can sound similar enough depending on the context. For some reason, I kept thinking about how, in that moment, I started to put pieces together about many of my guests and coworkers. I wondered just how many people in my life saw me as exceptional versus an ‘exception’ to the rules of their prejudice. How many people think that I am articulate because I am an exception to the rules they have created in their minds? How many people think I should remain an ‘exception’, and not dare to be arrogant enough to reach for more? I wondered how many people in my life probably think I am overthinking and easily offended by underhanded opportunities that are only meant to ‘fix’ me and not work with my exceptional talents. How many people have wondered why I can’t just be content with what I get at face value? How many people misunderstand that I have every right to go further, and not accept less just because my experiences open doors for others like me? How many miss the historical context of how much work and sacrifices my ancestors have done to get me to where I am, and to accept less than what I deserve is a dishonor to their legacy? I wonder if people realize how much pressure that knowledge can put on a person.

After reading this book I kept thinking about how we are all just a collection of experiences collaged together, to create a unique universe of our own. I kept thinking about how sly comments slide like oil off the tongue of coworkers who say disparaging things about Diversity, Equity, Inclusion, and Accessibility (DEIA) efforts. I think of how I'm always choosing between pretending I don't know exactly what someone is inferring and calling them out. I think of how many times I've been put in a position of speaking for all Black people when truly my only expertise is my own collage of experiences. The Black diaspora is vast and I could never speak to everyone's experience. But I'm asked to speak because I am less intimidating than hiring more diverse candidates, having more Black people in the room is too hard, so instead it's easier to keep and wear down the one ‘exception to the rule’ in the room. I'm wondering how long I'll be able to strain my jaw, grit my teeth, and watch my tone when I am expected to soothe the white fragility in my circles because I am the ‘exception’.

While I think of all of this, I'm also listening to one of my favorite songs Black Folks by Tank and the Bangas. Where the lead singer drops one of the most relatable lines I've ever heard:

"(Black feels like…) push your personal feelings of racial injustice so far underneath the carpet, that you trip on your own family history".

Because sometimes even when you speak up on your history you risk relationships with people you thought you were close to. You start to see how maybe you weren't a true friend but an ‘exception’, a trophy to prove your friend isn't racist. Because if you speak up and speak out you are no longer an ‘exception’, but you are a risk and a threat. You become an unknown entity that can reflect reality in a way that sheds light on the darkness in someone else. You risk realizing that the people around you don't believe your experience. They don't see the collage of experiences that has made you, who you are.

I think I am exceptional, outstanding, and have been diligent in earning what I have. I think many of my people before me and around me currently are exceptional. Though we may be an ‘exception’ to the general rule due to being historically excluded from many opportunities, it doesn't mean our experiences are identical. We each are holistic stories and collages unto ourselves. Of all the exceptional poets, dreamers, thinkers, doers, and creators who have built this country, and contributed to this industry, I think the least we can do to honor them is to credit them, exactly as they are. It's how I want to be honored.

I am both exceptional and often the ‘exception’ to the rule as a minority in many spaces I step in. If you want my opinion on how to honor those who fill similar spaces as I do, I would say honor our holistic self. Honor our collage of experiences. Don't open doors with the intent of showing how benevolent you are to open that door. If you find yourself congratulating yourself more than congratulating the person you are giving an opportunity to, that's how you know you've gone wrong. If that person expresses discomfort over that very issue, don't shy from the discourse, lean in, apologize, and learn something.

If you are a minority who is seen as an exception to the rule in your own space, and you are seeking opportunities yourself, don't apologize for taking opportunities where you can. If you find an opportunity that doesn't align with who you are, and disrupts the peace within you; believe that instinct. Hold on to your power, and say “no”. If something is meant to enrich you it will, and if it doesn't, be brave enough to search for the next opportunity that does. Just because opportunities are rare for us folk who are ‘exceptions’, doesn't mean other opportunities won't come along, it just takes a bit of faith, patience, and endurance.

Stay Stunning,

Shannon

Shannon Farmer is the MIAZS Communications Outreach Coordinator