Professionalism be damned, it never suited me anyway!
I had a difference of opinion with someone on LinkedIn recently and it ties into something I talk about in my training sessions. It centred around having videos on in meetings, but what really it came down to is what people view as professional or not in a business setting.
Firstly, the fact we’re still having debates and discussions about whether employers should require videos to be on in meetings is both frustrating and eye-opening on how far we’ve yet to go with grasping hybrid working and disability inclusion.
Secondly, professionalism is something I love to pick apart. Mainly because it’s a place where ableism lurks but is often excused, ignored or explained (badly) away. But also because it sits at the intersection of so many other systemic issues like misogyny, racism, and classism.
The definitions of professionalism vary, but most tie into three things; standards, behaviour and responsibility. However there’s a bigger question at hand than understanding what it is.
Whose definition is it anyway?
Who’s defining professionalism? Or, more accurately, who has historically been defining what’s professional and what isn’t? Spoiler, it’s the same people who built the system. And that’s a problem because it was a system built to cater to a very narrow and specific section of society. Everyone else who has come into or worked under that system has had to fight for rights, access, pay, you name it. In short, we’ve had to mould ourselves to it, not the other way around.
This is important because it directly affects the way in which we think about and enforce professionalism in the workplace to this day. We are carrying so many pre-conceived ideas and opinions based on ideas that were shaped in the mid-1800s (professionalism has roots as far back as Hellenic Greece, but the ‘modern’ version we still have developed out of the creation of professions which is another blog entirely). Interestingly, the quote below talks about professions addressing society’s concerns yet it’s arguable that, instead, professionalism has become synonymous with oppression.
“The modern professions were established in the mid-nineteenth century, when laws governing licensure granted a monopoly over practice, with a clear understanding that professions would be altruistic and moral and would address society’s concerns,” Cruess and colleagues have noted (J Bone Joint Surg 2000;82:1189-94).
National Library of Medicine article 2012
One way this is explored (and why it’s necessary to consider how professionalism intersects with other ‘isms’) is in an essay by Leah Goodridge published by UCLA Law Review: Professionalism as a Racial Construct and followed up with an article in Dame looking at how professionalism has been used to police Black people in the workplace.
Professionalism and ableism
In terms of disability, professionalism is often code for ableism, holding disabled, chronically ill and neurodivergent people to arbitrary standards declared by those in positions of power and privilege. Anything, or anyone which sits outside the corporate norm can be deemed unprofessional without much scrutiny.
Where disability is concerned we particularly see this in relation to appearance and reliability, and this is where the debate over videos on or off sits. The person with whom I had the difference of opinion claimed that “99% of the time it’s because people can’t be bothered to get dressed of do their hair.” So let’s look at that.
I have an energy-limiting chronic illness. It means I have around 3-4 good usable hours in a day to do all the things; work, household chores, showering, food shopping, socialising, etc. If I can take part in a meeting without using my limited battery to wash and or style my hair, put make up on, or even get out of bed or off the sofa because I can keep my camera off I am far more likely to be able to concentrate, do any follow up actions, or answer or ask questions. In short, I’ll be able to work better.
And this scenario can apply to so many others; neurodivergent people, those with social anxiety, those with caring responsibilities, people who are burnt out but still trying to function in the hellscape that is modern capitalism. The point is that whether my hair is done or not is irrelevant to the work I’m capable of doing. To suggest otherwise is nonsensical.
Time for a different approach
If we really think about it professionalism is nothing more than tradition. Traditions which in many cases reinforce outdated ideas and uphold barriers facing oppressed groups. I’ve struggled with professionalism my whole life, as someone who has had piercings, tattoos, brightly coloured hair on top of disability the rules set out have always felt, to me, like formalised personal opinions generated from years of outdated practices and diversity limiting beliefs.
As with all forms of progress there are those who favour tradition, those who will dig their heels in and denounce such progress as trends, as whining, as impractical or unworkable because it affords them more power or enables them to hold on to the power they’ve amassed.
However, rejection of professionalism is a growing movement. As Gen Z seeks a more rewarding working life, as oppressed groups refuse to participate in systems which perpetuate that oppression and as the pandemic’s home working fostered a kinder, more understanding acceptance and forgiveness of our individual situations, what’s considered professional is being dismantled in favour of something more inclusive, and ultimately, more human.
“In terms of disability, professionalism is often code for ableism, holding disabled, chronically ill and neurodivergent people to arbitrary standards declared by those in positions of power and privilege.”
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