Working in a human space without human interaction

When I started my work life I was still living in Accra, Ghana where I worked for a couple of non-

profits, not all at the same time although there was some general overlap at the time given that

they all operated in the same project space. The last one I worked at was maybe a 2-hour long

commute both ways for me and my boss let me mostly work from home except for when we

had to travel. I was great at it because I don’t do well with people hovering over me, potentially

intruding on my personal space.

When I started my fulltime work life in Nova Scotia, Canada, even though I couldn’t work from

home at least initially, I had my own office and could be by myself when I wanted to be. I

generally came and went as I pleased so long as my work was done, and it was done. My work

ethic can never be questioned.

I am a natural wanderer, and the Covid-19 pandemic was good for me, in that I could work

remotely, get out and about as I chose, travel when I chose and still get my work done.

The world has decided the pandemic is over even though China and Hong Kong apparently

think otherwise. Because the world has decided what it has decided, I am forced to go back to

an office environment. This time I am in a shared office space. I cannot come and go as I please

whether or not my work is done.

This situation has saddened me and dampened my mood. As it turns out, I am not alone as a

black woman in not wanting to be in an office. I hesitate to play the race card because I was like

this even in Ghana. However, if using this will push my agenda, then I am totally here for it.

Apparently for black women not living and working in Africa, life in the office is rife with

microaggressions. These run the gamut of comments on hairdo (arranged in a way so as to not

look unruly - try telling a 4c afro to behave, the fake smile plastered on the face so as to look

pleasant and welcoming and friendly to all – who wants to continue the trope of the angry

black woman, to clothing – when you have real curves, choosing your work clothes becomes a

bit like the hunger games so that you don’t look like you have suspect intentions towards the

innocent men.

Imagine then how hard it is for me to face being back in the office. I do my best to escape my

reality by having my headset on and listen to great music, cue Tina Turner’s “The Best”. It really

isn’t enough. The constant performance of well-being is draining. I cannot continue to pretend

to be the model citizen I am most definitely not. I am exhausted from feeling like I should be an

ambassador for my race, given that I am the only one who looks like me in my workplace and I

wouldn’t want my actions to affect anyone’s future work placement in this organization. I find

myself getting more and more depressed and when I raised the conversation of potentially

working from home my boss did not get it. I guess they need to justify why they need the space.

I understand that some people get their social needs met in the office. That’s not me and will

never be me. Work is work. We can be cordial but let’s not cross that boundary given the

potential for fall out. Personal friendships in the workplace can be akin to workplace romance

and the fallout of those have been well-documented.

So what do I do now that I clearly understand that office work, in person work isn’t for me and

my job doesn’t let me work remotely? I am strategizing on that and once I know, you will know.

This is a form of self-care.

Friendships and the maintenance thereof