BIPoC in NGOs: Beware of Posting on Facebook, You Could Offend White Peers.

A social media post was shared. A hostile meeting with the CEO and a White colleague ensued..

“Firstly, Bec, I would like to talk about your Facebook post.” These were the words said to me by a colleague in a meeting with the CEO, one afternoon in Lombok, Indonesia. What I thought was an update on my decision to leave the organisation (due to burnout and frustration over the disregard for local partners) turned out to be something very different- it was a display of what I can only describe as White entitlement and fragility. I am aware these have become overused buzzwords, recently hijacked by various sectors, but that doesn’t make them any less real, or the negative impacts they have on so-called developing nations and Black, Indigenous and People of Colour (BIPoC) any less damaging.

White fragility and entitlement, as we have only recently seen (or rather, as it’s only recently been acceptable to talk openly about), is also present in the field of humanitarian work. And as BIPoC NGO workers walk through these times of reckoning and begin to unpack, unravel, and demand accountability, we begin to share our stories, cautiously but courageously, to release some of the trauma and demand accountability. What lies before you is an account of one of my stories while working in Indonesia, one of literally hundreds that I experienced as a Person of Colour working in this sector.

First, let me rewind a little; in late 2018, an Australian NGO recruited my above-mentioned colleague and me to carry out a one-year contract in Indonesia. She and I would work together on the same team with an Indonesian NGO. Every aspect of our recruitment was the same, save for two poignant details; she had already been living and working in Indonesia for years, and she is a White woman.

The Facebook post she was referring to in the meeting was an article I shared titled “Will I Ever Be Australian Enough?” by writer Sharona Lin, a second-generation Chinese migrant. Drawing upon her experiences, Lin argues that even if you are born in Australia and conform to the “rules” of assimilation, you will never truly be considered Australian if you are a first/second-generation migrant/refugee.

I read the article while on break in Singapore, after having been in Indonesia for eight months. It infuriated me, as what Lin wrote was so on point. Her recounts of racial abuse stung because I had felt those emotions and been in her shoes, countless times. Even as a grown woman who can rationalise away these incidents as temporary episodes of anger from strangers, they stick with me.

In Indonesia, I was bearing witness to the recolonisation of a society by White expatriates. Having travelled and lived in various countries, my homeland of El Salvador being one, I have seen this before; White people move to a Global South nation and begin changing the environment to suit their tastes, buying plots of land or kilometres of pristine beach, all while pushing out citizens. The original residents must then adapt for the convenience of new colonisers, as this type of shift provides a tourism wage, but erodes cultural identity and environment. It’s the most perverse example of being stuck between a rock and a hard place.

As an Australian and Salvadoran citizen, a Person of Colour and a refugee who’s seen integration support to families like mine shrink in my adopted country, I felt irritated. No Global South citizen could do this in Australia, or anywhere in the North. Global South citizens cannot jump on a plane and be granted entry without first proving their “worth.” The entry visa alone for many Global North countries aggressively ensures only a certain privileged few gain access. Yet it is perfectly acceptable in Latin America, Asia, Africa for White people to arrive and open up orphanages, cafes, boutique hotels and foundations, with little to no experience, or respect for the country they’ve chosen to do this in.

My solution to my anger was to post about it. Alongside the original article, this is what I wrote:

Following her review of my post, my colleague took the following actions. Given I was still in Singapore, I learned of these occurrences afterwards:

- She called the CEO and the Director of our workplace and requested a meeting.

- She came to my home to discuss it.

- She printed out my Facebook post.

- She showed my Facebook post to others in her social circle.

At the meeting, my colleague gave me a printed copy of my Facebook post and demanded we discuss it. Then, the blaming and shaming began, with my “aggression” toward her front and centre. I took notes during and after:

- “As soon as I read it, I was furious and called Jo and Ani (CEO and Director, both Indonesian. Names have been changed).”

- “I spent the weekend just devastated and hurt, and I feel like you’re attacking me.”

- “I’ve always had the best intentions in this place, what would you know about living here?”

- “I showed it to two friends- they were also appalled.”

After pleading her case (often with tears in her eyes, you know the ones), she asked me to explain why I’d “attacked” her. I responded with a sound refusal to engage in, let alone justify her assumptions, biases, and limited world view. Instead, I posed these questions to her:

- “Why did you feel the need to request the CEO’s involvement in this personal matter? Would you have done the same if we were in an Australian professional setting?”

- “If you’re secure with how you navigate your White privilege in this country and see yourself as an ally, adhering to the values of the NGO space you’re in/getting paid by, why did this offend you?”

- “Why did you feel this post was solely about you? What motivated your comment about having the best intentions? Are you feeling some doubt about them?”

She countered by saying it was obviously about her, and stemmed from my anger toward her and my lack of experience, even though I’ve been in the sector for 14 years, working in multiple countries, and this was her first formal nonprofit job. Somehow though, my experience and knowledge were being questioned.

The reality was that by that point, not only was I burnt out, but I had grown increasingly uncomfortable with my privileged position and the dynamics of the organisation. As is so often the case, the office was staffed mainly with foreigners, and the lack of Indonesian staff meant there was very little peer-to-peer collaboration in that environment. Above all, I had witnessed foreign staff excluding the CEO and Director from the decision-making process. Add to that the fact I was only one of three BIPoC in a program of over 90 humanitarian professionals, representing a nearly 70-year organisation and decades-old program, and I’d reached my limit.

The day after our meeting, I got ousted from the White expatriate community in the town where we lived/worked. People who once greeted me warmly on the street now ignored me. Those who had added me on social media removed me, and Indonesian residents who worked for some of these White families began to avoid me, for fear of displaying disloyalty to their employers.

Displays of racism, White entitlement, fragility and White saviour complexes play out and go unchecked in the NGO sector too often. Rarely are White people called upon to consider themselves in racial terms within the nonprofit landscape, because White people own that landscape. My colleague took my statements as a personal affront because up until that point, she had gone about her time in Indonesia without having to question her immense privileges in that country, purely for being a White woman. Working for a nonprofit that vets its candidates prior to recruitment it worries, but does not surprise me that her lack of awareness was not raised.

It should not be up to the citizens of nations that allow these organisations entry to entertain and tolerate White privilege, or the protective mechanisms used by Whites to uphold it, like the behaviour displayed by my ex-colleague. Nor should BIPoC NGO workers be punished when we draw attention to the impacts of that White privilege in the countries where we work.

The above is just one example from countless others I have experienced, witnessed, or heard from other BIPoC working in the NGO space. As they accumulate, they have led me to question the effectiveness, sincerity and legitimacy of our work. Having been in the sector for over a decade, I understand that I too am complicit. Though I rigorously push back, I cannot excuse myself from playing a part in the Global North mindset of “fixing” Global South nations. It’s on me to continue to decolonise my mind and pivot my aims.

With so much recent talk about diversity and inclusion, equity and “new normals,” it’s easy to assume that things are on the up. But I refuse to accept that sentiment, at least for now. I have worked to deconstruct racist practices within my professional sphere and continue to do so, asking the unpopular and uncomfortable questions and raising concerns — I have earned the title of “professional agitator” by peers for my troubles. I have seen little improvement throughout my time in this sector, and I don’t necessarily see that changing. However, I maintain hope that I may yet be proven wrong in the future. Frankly, though, I feel it will be Black, Indigenous and People of Colour who will get us there — with battle scars from White fragility to show for it.