“I would have this gentleman on a regular basis approach me in the hallway and say ‘Excuse me, but are you lost?’”
This repeated question, seemingly polite on the surface, is anything but innocent. It’s a gatekeeping mechanism — a microaggression — a coded challenge wrapped in civility. He’s not asking for your benefit. He’s reminding you of his perceived ownership of the space.
The hallway becomes symbolic here. A transitional space — and yet, Black professionals are never allowed to simply pass through unchallenged. You must constantly prove that you belong, even when your credentials outweigh those questioning you.
🔸 The Power of Naming Yourself:
“Finally I said, well no actually I’m not lost… let me formally introduce myself to you…”
This is a turning point. You take back your power not through confrontation, but through clarity. You named yourself. Asserted your title. Grounded your presence.
But the real twist?
“He was surprised that I was a professor.”
This reveals the cognitive dissonance many white people experience when their assumptions are upended — because in his mental model, a Black woman could not be a professor.
🔸 Dehumanization Through Repetition:
“He continued to approach me and ask me, ‘Am I lost?’”
Even after the first confrontation — even after being corrected — he continued. That’s where this becomes more sinister. This wasn’t a mistake. This was a ritual.
A daily dose of psychological erosion.
This wasn’t just racism.
This was a power play. A performance of dominance dressed up in courtesy.
🔸 The Environment: A PWI (Predominantly White Institution):
“I was the only African American tenure-track professor…”
That isolation matters. You weren’t just being questioned — you were being watched. And when no one else intervenes, the institution itself becomes complicit. The hallway becomes a stage for everyday racism, and you’re cast as both subject and target.
🧭 Microaggressions as Psychological Warfare:
This isn’t about one hallway interaction — it’s about how institutions weaponize invisibility and hypervisibility at the same time. You are invisible as a colleague, yet hypervisible as a threat or an outsider.
The question “Are you lost?” is a metaphor for something much deeper:
- Are you lost — in this field, in this profession, in this space that we didn’t build for you?
It’s a dog whistle. A reminder that no matter how many degrees you earn, your Blackness will be read before your credentials.
🔗 Historical Echoes:
This situation evokes memories of:
- Black women being asked to prove themselves over and over — from Sojourner Truth’s “Ain’t I a Woman?” to modern stories of Black professors being mistaken for janitors or students.
- The idea that Black people must be grateful just to be present, and must constantly soften themselves to avoid white discomfort.
You didn’t overreact. You navigated with restraint and professionalism. But that’s part of the tragedy — Black people often have to temper their responses to remain palatable in systems designed to exclude them.
✊🏽 The Psychological Toll:
Having to assert your identity in a hallway you walk every day — that’s not minor. That’s not trivial. That’s soul-taxing.
Every incident chips away at your energy. You came to teach, to lead, to mentor. But instead, you were forced to justify your presence — over and over — to a man who didn’t want to see you as equal.
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