When Your Board Chair Does Racist Shit: How the Four I's of Feedback Saved My Sanity (And Maybe the Organization)

Let me tell you about the time I had to confront racism from someone who was, on paper, one of my biggest supporters.

Back in my days as Executive Director of a prominent workers rights organization in DC, I had a board chair who was a powerful leader in the building trades. A white man of large stature with a family legacy of union leadership, AND who didn't have a reputation for being kind or helpful to local organizers and activists. A man who, after being basically forced to work with as my chair, I took the time to really get to know through numerous one-to-ones. And deep down, in his own way, he genuinely wanted the best for everyone. The problem? The best for everyone in his mind looked exactly like his way of life and upbringing.

The Contradictions Were Real

Here's the thing about humans — we're full of contradictions. This board chair did everything he could to support our organization. He sent members to our events, lent us their union hall for trainings, gave consistent five-figure annual donations, and was always genuine about it. This was his way of showing love, and I recognize and appreciate that, genuinely.

But.

There's always a but.

He and some of his member leaders were also doing and saying insensitive racist shit that I could no longer ignore.

The Pattern I Couldn't Unsee

One of his staff members — someone he regularly sent to work with us on campaigns — started talking in a group meeting about some of our community members as "illegals" and "illegal aliens." People we organize with. People we fight alongside. And here's the kicker: the building trades worked with Latino immigrants regularly, some of whom may have been undocumented. This wasn't ignorance born from distance — this was a culture where talking about human beings in derogatory ways was commonplace. It was offensive and whack as fuck to me and to the folks in our group, who all gave sharp eyes but stayed silent in the moment.

Another time, this same leader literally screamed at me at a board meeting. I don't even remember what it was about, but I guarantee it wasn't over anything that deserved to be screamed about. Especially not with the tight ship I ran. Either way, he screamed at me — a young Black woman — in front of a room full of professional adults. That was whack as fuck.

After that meeting, several board members called me to make sure I was okay. They were flabbergasted. They commended me on how I handled it with such composure.

Little did they know, I had endured white men bullies in the restaurant industry for years — chefs who screamed daily at workers for all kinds of ridiculous and hateful shit. And I was never one to put up with it without defending myself or speaking up.

One day at Rosa Mexicano, the head chef screamed at me in the main dining room — with guests having lunch — about a splash of sauce on the wall. I walked right up to him and said, "Excuse me? Fuck you, James. You don't talk to me like that or to anybody like that." I literally got a round of applause from everyone — all the staff — in the restaurant.

These white men can't fuck with me.

So when my board chair screamed at me, I held my composure not because I was afraid, but because I had learned when to unleash and when to be strategic. This situation required strategy, not just fire.

Then there was the time he made a "joke" about running his car over one of the local Black Lives Matter activists.

Needless to say, I had HAD it.

But there was a power dynamic. This wasn't just any board member — this was my board chair. Someone with institutional power, funding relationships, and influence I couldn't ignore. Someone who genuinely supported the work but whose behavior was burning me the fuck out mentally, emotionally, physically AND spiritually. It was like, "Dayum Man!"

Research shows that nearly half of Black HR professionals don't feel safe sharing their thoughts on race-related issues at work. When racism comes from someone in a position of power — especially someone who also provides support — the complexity multiplies. You're not just dealing with the harm; you're calculating risk, weighing relationships, and protecting the organization's resources all at once.

I needed help.

Enter Dyana Forester and the Four I's

I enlisted Dyana Forester, who at the time was working at National Jobs with Justice as my regional supervisor. She facilitated conversations using what I now call the Four I's of Feedback — one with the staff member who'd used the dehumanizing language, and one with my board chair about the culture he was allowing and the pattern of behavior I could no longer tolerate.

This framework enabled us to communicate what we needed to communicate and somehow — somehow — find a way forward, at least for a time.

Let me break down how it works because this tool has applications way beyond my specific situation. Whether you're managing a team, navigating board dynamics, or just trying to address fuckshit when it happens in your life, the Four I's give you structure when emotions are high and power dynamics are complicated.

The Four I's of Feedback: A Framework for Real Conversations

1. INTENT: Check Yourself Before You Wreck Yourself

Before you have the conversation, you need to assess your own intention. Check your mood. Are you coming to this conversation to genuinely understand and resolve, or are you coming to punish, shame, or vent?

In my case, I had to get honest with myself: Was I trying to kick this man off the board? Did I want to humiliate him? Or did I actually want the behavior to stop so I could keep doing my job without constant psychological harm?

The answer matters because it shapes everything that follows. If your intention isn't constructive, the conversation won't be either.

2. INCIDENT: Just the Facts—No Extra Stank Sauce

This is where you describe what actually happened. Be specific: date, time, situation. Stick to observable behaviors, not your interpretation or judgment.

Instead of saying "You're racist," you say: "At the January coalition meeting, when discussing our partnership with the immigrant rights group, your staff member John referred to community members as 'illegals' three times during his presentation."

Or to the board chair: "Over the past six months, there have been three separate incidents where your staff or members have used dehumanizing language about immigrant community members in meetings with our coalition partners. When I've raised concerns, there hasn't been follow-up or accountability."

Instead of "You were disrespectful," you say: "On Tuesday at 3pm during the budget discussion, you raised your voice and interrupted me while I was mid-sentence presenting the financial report."

The goal is to make it impossible for someone to deny what happened because you're not editorializing — you're stating facts. Research on effective feedback shows that when you describe specific, observable behaviors rather than making character judgments, people are significantly less defensive and more able to hear what you're saying.

3. IMPACT: Name the Real Effect

This is where you share how the behavior affected you or the organization. Keep it honest and direct without blame.

"When your staff member referred to community members as 'illegals,' it undermined our organizational values and made it harder for me to build trust with coalition partners who were in the room. It also signaled that this kind of language is acceptable within your organization's culture, which creates ongoing problems for our partnership."

"When you screamed at me during the board meeting, I felt disrespected as the Executive Director and as a Black woman. It made me question whether I could continue in this role with you as board chair, and it created an environment where other board members felt they had to check on my wellbeing after the meeting."

Then — and this is crucial — you give the person space to explain their perspective, process, and even apologize. Creating a psychologically safe space for this kind of dialogue doesn't mean excusing the behavior, but it does mean recognizing that most people, when confronted with the impact of their actions, never intended to cause harm. They weren't thinking about you or others at all and were probably just repeating harmful behavior they'd learned and experienced themselves — which is part of the problem, but it's also the opening for change.

4. INVENT: Co-Create the Way Forward

This is where you work together to figure out what needs to happen next. What new agreements, communications, or processes are needed? This isn't about punishment — it's about dignity and repair.

In our case, we had to address it on multiple levels. With the staff member, we agreed on specific language guidelines for how he would refer to immigrant community members moving forward, and I made it clear that using dehumanizing language wasn't acceptable in our coalition spaces. With my board chair, we established expectations for the culture he was responsible for within his organization, created a protocol for how disagreements would be handled in board meetings (no yelling, ever), and opened up space for him to understand why this pattern of behavior — even when coming from his staff rather than directly from him — was his responsibility to address.

It wasn't perfect. It was uncomfortable as hell. But it was real, and it created enough space for us to continue working together without me losing my mind or compromising the organization's values.

Why This Framework Works (Even When Shit Is Hard)

The Four I's work because they're structured enough to keep you from spiraling into rage or shutting down completely, but flexible enough to adapt to different power dynamics and contexts.

Studies on workplace feedback show that structured models like this reduce anxiety for the person giving feedback and defensiveness for the person receiving it. When you separate the behavior from the person and focus on specific, observable incidents rather than character attacks, people can actually hear you.

But here's what the research doesn't always capture: When you're a Black woman addressing racism from a white man in power, no framework makes it easy. What the Four I's did for me was give me a structure to lean on when I felt like I was drowning. It gave me language when I felt silenced. It gave me a pathway forward when every fiber of my being wanted to just quit and walk away - many times throughout my career.

The Reality: One Conversation Didn't End His Racism

Let's be clear about something: having one structured feedback conversation with my board

chair didn't cure him of racism. It didn't magically transform our working relationship into sunshine and rainbows. And it damn sure didn't eliminate the toll that managing these dynamics took on my mental health and capacity.

What it did do was create enough space for us to keep working together without constant crisis. It established boundaries. It named harm. And it opened up the possibility — however imperfect — of him learning and me carrying on with dignity and power another day.

That's not nothing.

Why I'm Telling You This Now

I'm sharing this story for a few reasons.

First, because if you're a leader — especially a leader of color, especially a woman of color — navigating these dynamics in social justice spaces, I want you to know you're not alone. The contradictions are real. The exhaustion is real. And needing support to address harmful behavior from people who also support your work? That's real too.

Second, because I want you to have tools. The Four I's isn't a magic wand, but it's a framework that can help you have the hard conversations instead of making assumptions, finding workarounds, or just stewing in resentment until you burn out.

Third, because Dyana Forester — the person who facilitated that conversation and helped me navigate one of the most challenging periods of my career — is running for DC City Council at-large. She is a master at managing complex dynamics between people, which is a critical skill as a legislator and public official. She's committed to labor and working-class people's rights. And if you still care enough about democracy - which I hope to high hell you do - and want leaders who can actually navigate difficult conversations and situations to create workable change, support Dyana Forester for DC Council.

Your Turn: When Someone Kills Your Vibe

The next time someone disappoints you, triggers you, or does something that makes you want to scream (or actually does scream at you) - and you know it's going to happen - try the Four I's this time:

1. Check your intention before the conversation

2. Name the specific incident without extra interpretation

3. Share the real impact and give space for their perspective

4. Invent a way forward together with clear agreements

It won't be perfect. It might be uncomfortable as hell. But it beats making assumptions, building resentment, and burning yourself out trying to manage dysfunction without ever addressing it directly.

Because here's what I learned through that experience: most people never intended to harm anyone. They just weren't thinking about you or the broader impact of their behavior. Having the conversation gives everyone a chance to repair, realign, and move forward with dignity.

And in social justice spaces especially, where we're trying to model the world we want to see instead of replicating the toxic patterns we see in most workplaces, having these tools matters.

Ready to dive deeper into managing difficult conversations and building your leadership capacity without burning out? That's exactly what I help mission-driven leaders do through my coaching practice, Superhuman Leadership & People Power. Book a free discovery-call to learn more about my 6- and 12- month executive coaching and rest retreat program options.

Want this framework as a handy one-page resource? Download the Four I's of Feedback handout and keep it ready for the next time you need to have a real conversation. Get your free download here.

Until Next time….

FUCK ICE & POWER TO THE PEOPLE!

For Real Though,

Nikki M.G.