The letter that follows is from former City of Minneapolis Race & Equity Director Joy Marsh. Her letter addresses her experience as the city’s first Director of Race & Equity and the efforts of current and former City Coordinators Office hold leadership accountable for creating an anti-racist and safe workplace.
Mayor Frey, Council President Jenkins and City Council, and Minneapolis Community Members,
I joined the City of Minneapolis’ City Coordinator’s Office (CCO) late fall 2015 filled with excitement about the opportunity to lead racial equity work in a city I loved. It was clear in the interview process that the people I would look most directly to for leadership, the city coordinator and deputy city coordinator, had little to offer by way of wisdom on how to accomplish the work, but I was undeterred. I had transferable skills leading similar efforts in far larger and more complex organizations. Also, I interpreted their lack of clarity on how to support my work effectively and the promise of a blank canvas upon which I could create to, in fact, mean that my leadership and expertise would be trusted. I believed I would be listened to and even consulted on matters related to racial equity in ways commensurate with my leadership role. The stark contrast between the vision painted for me and my lived experience in the Coordinator’s Office for six years is illustrative of the most insidious and toxic work environment I have experienced in nearly three decades of professional work.
There were no signs in the interview process to warn me of the amount of gaslighting, marginalization and tokenism I would experience or the toll it would all take on my mental and emotional health. I could not have planned for the professional cost these actions would take on my self-confidence, or the weight of the doubt I would experience. I had to operate under a significant degree of cognitive dissonance in those early years as I tried to make sense of the stated equity values of the city. These stated values along with hollow public praise I might receive from city leadership on one hand was in stark contrast with the harm I experienced behind closed doors. My reputation for being a transformational leader was growing locally and nationally, but within the confines of the city, most notably, the Coordinator’s Office, my efforts were regularly dismissed or co-opted by others to build their public profile.
What is incredibly important to note is that my experience is not unique to me, nor is it tied to a single city coordinator, mayor or city council. The culture is one of harm and toxicity serving those who pledge allegiance to it and few others. I point to my experience to contribute my voice to the growing numbers of city staff from across the enterprise who are organizing at their own risk in pursuit of justice. I speculated for a long time why such a movement never happened before, particularly considering how many staff, past and present in my tenure, had experiences like mine. How were people leaving silently, not reaching back and saying something? How could we allow this culture of harm go unchecked at the cost of BIPOC employees and those white staff who dared to leverage their privilege to speak boldly for justice?
The culture is toxic and city leadership can either honor the voices of the oppressed and do something to change it. Or you can continue to operate with benign neglect treating BIPOC staff as interchangeable cogs that can be replaced with those who may be more accommodating, when the last crew, weary of the toll of the harm, chooses to leave.
Today feels different though. Today feels like a moment when some especially brave staff have chosen to set aside their comfort and speak out in the face of inequities. These staff are embodying the city’s racial equity value by calling for justice, even if there are those in a position to take action to disrupt the system of harm opt to ignore these cries. Today is, in fact, a moment to simply lean into the discomfort of recognizing the city culture, as with every other organization that is built upon policy and practice that centers whiteness, does in fact cause harm to BIPOC staff. The harm happens in the culture and there is a doubling down of that harm when we shine a light on it and blame or marginalize the victim. Simply put, moving on as if growing numbers of staff, past and present, have not called for disrupting the status, isn’t a good look for the city.
To those who are putting their bodies, jobs, and professional futures on the line to lead this effort, I applaud you. Your leadership in this moment is an inspiration and compelled me to act first as someone committed to people-led movement, secondly as a strong champion of so many of you individually, and as a resident of Minneapolis. You are who the residents of Minneapolis and employees of the city deserve. Your willingness to act not only in this effort but in the work you do every day to move more equitable policy and practice is sowing seeds for true transformation in the city, not because words match deeds at the highest levels as often as they should, but in spite of that.
I offer my thoughts here not because I believe the mayor or council will act in accordance with the demands set forth by staff. Quite the contrary, history has shown that in the face of clear evidence, the city will operate against the interest of the people. None of it is personal. It is all about a culture that continues to benefit some at the expense of so many. I offer my thoughts here because I believe in the people and I could not let their sacrifice go without support in whatever way I could offer it. I offer it because regardless of how the city responds, the very fact that we are having this conversation now is a win for these staff. For that I am deeply grateful to have called many of them colleagues, some of them friends, and all of them tremendous assets to the advancement of racial justice in Minneapolis and beyond.
Joy Marsh is the former City of Minneapolis Race & Equity director.
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