Yes...I Did That

Written By: Elicia Bates 

I work in one of the largest prosecutor's office’s in the country as a paralegal. Most people immediately fire off questions about what I do, what I see, and if my job is as crazy as it seems and I get the pleasure of telling them: no. For the most part, it is a pretty average office job. Sure, there are times when part of my job includes cataloguing and marking evidence for trial and frantically attempting to put together subpoenas with absolutely no contact information. But after six months, I still barely know what I’m doing. There is such a wide range of tasks that come with the territory that every time I think I have a handle on things, someone comes along and asks me to write an application for a judicial application I’ve never heard of or to deliver something to a person whose name rings exactly zero bells.

During an average week, I tell people: “Sure, I can do that!” about thirty times. And out of those thirty, a solid ten to fifteen involve me walking straight into someone else’s office and asking what I am supposed to do. For particularly confusing requests, the attorneys will often give the request, pause to read my face and say “Ask X, they know what to do.” The inevitable result of this is that I, like all of us, make mistakes. 

We all do something that in retrospect is incredibly ridiculous. But that’s just the nature of learning how to do a job. You make mistakes and occasionally you break office equipment, but you learn and grow. 

The trouble with this is that I was programmed from a very young age to avoid mistakes at all costs. Not in the sense that, for the most part, people attempt to avoid at least obvious mistakes in the work that pays their rent. Rather, I, like many black women, have been programmed to be as close to infallible as possible. For decades, black women have been raised to work harder, study longer, and outperform those around her. And this shouldn’t be unfamiliar. It is such a common trope that shows like Scandal and How To Get Away With Murder have built entire plots around the idea, because it is as familiar to society as a cop drama or family sitcom. 

The average non-black person wants to believe that black women are flawless because it’s the easiest stereotype to believe in. In their world, this fiction insulates them from racism.  

However, Black women themselves often promote this message because it can help in the long run.  By embracing this, Black women can grant themselves at least some of the professional capital that white people get just by showing up. In general, Black women are seen as less intelligent and less valuable as employees. But, if they are able to project this image of a superhuman who puts work and success above all else, they can walk into a job with more confidence.

But when you’re like me, and are just learning a job, that doesn’t quite work. Using this stereotype to your advantage only works as long as people continue to see you as flawless. After spending my entire education hiding the vast majority of my mistakes, I’ve realized that is kind of hard to do here. It’s not the same as not doing as well on an assignment. Now my mistakes mean things to those around me and can’t be hidden, because it is not your grade that is in trouble; it is a case, or some bid or deal you need to close. Whatever it is, my mistakes are always visible. And it sucks. 

The paralegals in our section are assigned to individual attorneys and we work with them everyday, which means they see all of our mistakes over time. For me, compared to my white coworkers, it means that for every mistake I make, I make another chip in that infallible image I did my best to conjure through my interview and first couple days here.

However, mistakes are something we all recognize as a natural part of learning. The only way to get past it is to keep asking questions, but it doesn’t get much easier unless it is something you work on. Personally, I have learned to just lean into it. Not into being a bad employee, but into the idea that I am still learning and that I want to learn. That I am okay with asking questions and messing up, and that I will get better. 

Because the truth is: I do want to get better, I am learning, and literally no one is born knowing what floor the arraignment courtroom is on.