In her latest book, Emotional Justice: A Roadmap for Racial Healing, Armah outlines her project’s framework, which seeks to decenter whiteness and confront racial trauma. In a recent virtual meeting, we explored the themes of her book, its connections to her personal journey, the critical need to articulate the emotions behind racial inequality, and other compelling topics.
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GRÉGORY PIERROT: Emotional Justice marks a significant shift from your previous work as a journalist and playwright. What motivated you to write this book at this pivotal moment?
ESTHER ARMAH: Three transformative incidents across three continents catalyzed the creation of Emotional Justice. The first was my mother’s revelation about our family’s experience on February 6, 1966, the day of the military coup that ousted Ghana’s first post-independence president, Kwame Nkrumah. As my mother broke a 20-year silence, she recounted the harrowing night when soldiers confronted us with guns. This experience reshaped my understanding of history, emphasizing that narratives are often subjective. As a journalist trained in objectivity, her story challenged me to reconsider the lens through which history is viewed. Whose perspectives are prioritized, and whose are marginalized?
The second pivotal moment occurred at the Million Woman March in Philadelphia, where I had the honor of meeting Winnie Mandela, the keynote speaker during South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation period. She urged me to engage with South African women first, to listen to their stories, and to let their voices shape the questions I posed to figures like Desmond Tutu regarding the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. This underscored the often male-dominated narratives in historical discourse.
The third significant event was my coverage of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission hearings in South Africa. Interviewing the late Archbishop Desmond Tutu and Ntsiki Biko, who sued the government for her husband’s death, highlighted the disconnect between forgiveness and justice. Ntsiki rejected the predominant narrative of reconciliation, emphasizing the need to connect emotional truths with justice. Racial healing often overlooks the experiences of those who have suffered, centering instead on the perpetrators.
Society has conditioned us to accept a singular narrative of history: that whiteness is the cornerstone of our world, having built and saved it, while portraying Black, Brown, and Indigenous peoples as needing salvation. Emotional Justice focuses on reshaping our emotional engagement with power by challenging the dominance of whiteness. Through storytelling, I aim to enact structural change, emphasizing the importance of centering marginalized voices. Reflecting on my earlier experiences, I realized that academic achievement cannot heal untreated trauma.
Your book resonates with the works of notable figures like bell hooks, Toni Morrison, Audre Lorde, and Hortense Spillers, as well as the journal Race Traitor. You particularly emphasize the significance of emotional language. How does this differ from political language?
We have witnessed extensive analysis of the socioeconomic issues stemming from the pervasive influence of white supremacy, racism, and anti-Blackness. While there is political consensus on the harmful nature of whiteness, this agreement often fails to encompass our emotional ties to it. Concepts of masculinity may be interwoven with dominance and oppression, and although one may ideologically oppose this, emotional connections to power often remain entrenched in whiteness. It is crucial to recognize that changing our emotional landscape cannot be achieved solely through political means. The essence of Emotional Justice lies in acknowledging that each individual’s work varies, and it is vital to identify these differences. It is about constructing a framework that addresses emotional experiences collectively, highlighting their profound influence on our political realities.
Emotional Justice is not a therapeutic process; rather, it serves as a framework that organizations and individuals can engage with. I am not inviting participants to recount personal traumas on a therapist’s couch. My institute develops projects, training sessions, and leadership initiatives that address systemic inequities and employ the Emotional Justice framework to catalyze transformation. While many organizations have established diversity policies and zero-tolerance stances against racism and discrimination, true transformation requires decentering whiteness and evaluating success through the experiences of the most marginalized individuals.
We have created a training program that directly addresses what I perceived as lacking in South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission: the “Emotional Justice Truth & Accountability Sessions.” This initiative centers Black and Brown students and employees through creative methods, including storytelling, which I incorporate as a playwright. The workshop consists of three parts, followed by a six-month post-workshop facilitation, meeting monthly. In this follow-up, we emphasize engaging with individuals who possess the authority to effect change, such as those who can hire or fire. If participants lack that level of influence, we prioritize our resources elsewhere to ensure productive engagement.
Another training initiative, “The Love Languages of Emotional Justice,” specifically targets Black and Brown women in managerial and leadership roles. This program seeks to redefine how labor is valued, moving beyond a productivity-centric approach. The obsession with productivity often leads to burnout and exhaustion, a legacy rooted in historical exploitation. This training advocates for the institutionalization of wellness, rest, and replenishment within organizational frameworks. It calls for dedicated budget allocations to ensure wellness is integrated into workplace structures. We refer to it as the Emotional Justice Equity Package, viewing trauma as an equity issue that requires systemic resolution rather than an individual character flaw.
Many Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) initiatives in the U.S. often appear superficial, serving merely as a checkbox for organizations. How does your institute confront this approach to such a critical issue?
The landscape has shifted dramatically: the necessity and demand for genuine change have evolved. Superficial initiatives are being increasingly scrutinized. Books like Diversity, Inc. by Pamela Newkirk expose the limitations of this lucrative industry that fails to foster real structural change, emphasizing its connection to the shortcomings of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. This model for racial healing often perpetuates whiteness, and as long as efforts focus on alleviating the discomfort of whiteness, transformative change remains elusive.
I do not concern myself with who might refuse to engage with our initiatives. The reality is that change aimed at decentering whiteness will not be universally welcomed by institutions designed to maintain it. My nearly decade-long experience in New York allowed me to develop Emotional Justice through assignments and community engagement. For five years, we hosted annual dialogues within Black communities, highlighting Blackness as a focal point. Initially, organizations were reluctant to participate, as there was little engagement with concepts of healing justice or racial healing until the resurgence of the global protest movement following the murder of George Floyd. Shifting times influence engagement; while it may not be easy, it has transformed how individuals approach us.
We conduct a training program with CEOs and C-suite executives titled “Action Statements,” which focuses on fostering honesty in identifying the real work an organization is prepared to undertake concerning diversity and equity. This includes acknowledging what they are unwilling to address, prompting us to ask unconventional questions. By researching a company’s policies and actions, we begin with, “What are the areas you wish to avoid?” We remove those topics from consideration without judgment. Often, there’s a considerable list of issues they are unwilling to confront. Our challenge is to maximize what can be accomplished within the boundaries they set. Though it may seem limited, these achievable goals are crucial.
Addressing racial healing demands urgency. When organizations prioritize checkbox approaches, they overlook the real lives affected by these structures. These inequitable frameworks inflict harm, leaving no time for indulgence in discomfort during transformative change. White individuals have long been accustomed to Black and Brown individuals accommodating their inaction. Emotional Justice is fundamentally structural, focusing on systemic issues rather than individual struggles. It recognizes that while repair is often framed as an individual responsibility, the violence faced is inherently structural. The brutality of whiteness often expects a grace that is unwarranted when it comes to change. For those unaccustomed to the discomfort of genuine transformation, this work is theirs to undertake—responsibility lies solely with white individuals. The measure of success is reflected in the tangible changes implemented as a result of commitments made.
What strategies do you employ to hold institutions accountable?
We advise institutions engaging our services to “Become the change you claim,” rather than simply “Be the change.” The distinction is significant; becoming implies an ongoing commitment to action. Racial healing and decentering whiteness are not one-time efforts. It is inappropriate to impose a timeline on healing that has roots in a history of over 300 years of enslavement. Such expectations are both unrealistic and offensive, as they suggest that if healing is not achieved by a certain deadline, the fault lies with the individuals affected.
Reflecting on one of our training sessions, a professor noted, “Emotional Justice compels you to recognize who you truly are, not who you believe you were.” Genuine change cannot occur while clinging to an idealized version of one’s political or philosophical beliefs, especially when these beliefs perpetuate harm against entire communities of Black and Brown individuals. The principles of Emotional Justice lack a defined timeline; they involve continuous accountability and ongoing racial healing. Success metrics often center whiteness, focusing on quantifiable outcomes post-training. Our response is to ask, “What transformations have emerged from where you began?”
For instance, an Ivy League institution recognized a discriminatory practice that had persisted for decades, enabling students to enter a particular department. Following our training, the department head acknowledged the issue and eliminated the practice, profoundly enhancing the experiences of Black and Brown students. Such actions could have been taken long ago, but it required our training to facilitate this specific and effective change. True transformation is measured by the adjustments made; if no changes occur, the training cannot be deemed successful. This reality often deters individuals from engaging, as genuine change does not allow for mere checkbox compliance.
Your institute operates in Accra, London, and New York City, each representing diverse expressions of Blackness. How do you navigate the complexities of what you term global Blackness?
I proudly identify as a global Black woman. My birth in London provides me with a Black British perspective. My Ghanaian heritage, combined with my years spent living in Accra, affords me insight into a distinctly Ghanaian and African experience. Additionally, my time in New York has shaped my understanding of African American culture. This multifaceted perspective enables me to appreciate the nuances and particularities of Blackness across various regions.
Contemporary Blackness is inevitably influenced by white supremacy, yet its manifestations differ across contexts. For global Black individuals, acknowledging that our identities have been historically defined by whiteness is essential. In the United States, Blackness is shaped by the legacy of enslavement, where racial identity is often reduced to a binary, with even a single drop of Black ancestry qualifying one as Black. In contrast, British Blackness is often framed through the lens of colonialism, creating aspirations towards a certain British identity that can obscure the realities of inclusion. On the African continent, Blackness is ubiquitous, presenting a markedly different reality. Recognizing the varied ways white supremacy has shaped Black identities across regions is crucial for fostering a global community—what we refer to as global Blackness. It is imperative to reject oversimplified narratives that suggest we are all simply “African.” Emotional Justice advocates for honoring all dimensions of Black identity while acknowledging that our collective connection returns to the African continent, which does not erase individual experiences and identities.
Previously, you were working on a novel tentatively titled The Sweet Promise of Bullshit. Is that project still in progress?
The Sweet Promise of Bullshit has evolved into a screenplay that is now complete. It is framed as a revenge fantasy but fundamentally explores how whiteness attempts to evade the repercussions of its brutality—until it cannot. A group of Black women resolves to disrupt the lives of white individuals—not in a literal sense. The narrative emphasizes the necessity for white individuals to confront the consequences of their actions while also allowing Black characters to express a full spectrum of emotions, including anger and betrayal, as they navigate the complexities of dealing with something fundamentally toxic and harmful.
Additionally, I am working on another screenplay titled One of My Best Friends is White, set in Ghana. It revolves around a new media show led by Black women that faces funding challenges from the U.S. Embassy, which demands a white leader for the project to proceed. This story critiques the influence of white funding on the continent, framed through the lens of this small media initiative and the women involved.
There are three books planned as part of the emotional justice project. The next installment is titled Haunted and Hunted: Emotional Justice for Black Men, which will delve into the emotional complexities faced by Black men. The third volume, Black Grief Matters: Loss and Healing with Emotional Justice, focuses specifically on themes of loss and healing from the perspectives of Black women and girls. The initial book encompasses our collective efforts and outlines specific responsibilities, eventually diving deep into the unique experiences of the two demographics central to our framework: Black women and girls, as well as Black men and boys.
The Sweet Promise of Bullshit is set in London, and I envision the talented Michaela Coel in the lead role. Our focus will remain on projects based in the UK and the African continent, particularly in London and Ghana.
We developed a project addressing colonialism, racial healing, and emotional justice in response to recent events. Following the passing of the Queen of England, there was a significant outpouring of national mourning, yet those who have been colonized and their descendants felt marginalized in the narrative. This inspired the creation of the 1952 Project, drawing parallels to the 1619 Project. It explores four key themes—loss, legacy, grief, and healing—while examining the impact of colonialism on personal, cultural, and national identities, with a specific focus on Africa, the Caribbean, and England.
All of our initiatives aim to challenge the structures that shape our experiences, fostering engagement that promotes healing for those who have endured the most harm.
As we wrap up, we pose the following questions: What would you decolonize?
Our minds.
What would you defund?
I would prefer to fund initiatives that institutionalize wellness for Black women.
What would you abolish?
My focus is on what I would build: the Emotional Justice Worldwide LAB [Legacy and Building workshop].
What should be free for all?
Healthcare.
Name three songs that would serve as the soundtrack to your struggle.
These would be the anthems of my liberation: “Golden” by Jill Scott, “Make You No Forget” by Blitz the Ambassador featuring Seun Kuti, and “By Your Side” by Sade.
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Grégory Pierrot is a writer, translator, and professor of English.
