Police Commissioner Danielle Outlaw and the perils of being the first

I, too, have felt the dual stigma of being both Black and female in an occupation that, not all that long ago, was the sole province of white men.

by Jenice Armstrong | Columnist

Published Sep. 14, 2023, 8:00 a.m. ET

Being the first woman or the first African American named to a lofty position is an honor. But it can also come with an extra burden.

First lady Michelle Obama talks of being keenly aware of how your performance sometimes gets judged “by a different yardstick,” and how being “first” impacts those who come behind you.

“Making mistakes was not an option for us. Not that we didn’t make mistakes, but we had to be good — no, we had to be outstanding — at everything we did,” she told an interviewer in 2018. “When you’re the first, you’re the one that’s laying the red carpet down for others to follow.”

Even if you’re not in the White House, being the first female or the first person of color means being put under a constant microscope.

Actions get magnified. Think of what happened when, in one of her first official acts on the job, outgoing Philadelphia Police Commissioner Danielle Outlaw changed the rules to allow officers to wear colorful nail polish. Some female cops actually appreciated her loosening of restrictions, but that didn’t stop her from being ridiculed.

After almost four years on the job, she announced her resignation on Sept. 5. It took me until now to write about Outlaw’s impending departure because I was processing my thoughts about her stormy tenure. Looking back, I don’t think she ever really got a fair shake.

I can’t help but sympathize with her because of the unique challenges she and others who are in her position face by virtue of being the first. The perks and salaries that come with those jobs can be considerable, but they also come with tremendous scrutiny, as well as the heavy burden of being expected to carry the hopes and dreams of a people who historically have been shut out of such lofty career opportunities.

It’s no coincidence that, in a recent NBC News poll, Kamala Harris — the first African American, the first woman, and first Asian to hold the position of vice president — has the lowest net negative approval rating of any other vice president in the history of the poll.

Former Temple University president Jason Wingard experienced these added expectations — and scrutiny — during his brief tenure as well. The school’s first Black president took office during an especially tumultuous time at the North Philadelphia university, during which graduate students went on a 42-day strike and an on-duty Temple police sergeant was shot to death. Security and pay issues had plagued the campus long before Wingard ever accepted the position, but he wound up getting blamed for many of the challenges the school continues to struggle with.

And once Cherelle Parker is elected mayor (as expected), she’ll have to navigate a unique set of challenges that none of the men who have served in this position ever had to face. It won’t be long before she gets slapped with the ”angry Black woman” stereotype that used to dog Obama.

I’ve never had the chance to hold a position with responsibilities anywhere close to what Obama and Outlaw have. But I still can relate somewhat to their experiences because I’ve felt the dual stigma of being both Black and female in an occupation that, not all that long ago, was the sole province of white men.

I’ve felt the sting of having people accuse me of being a diversity hire and ignoring my qualifications.

I’ve felt the weight of responsibility when readers look to me to represent their interests. A Black South Philly resident who calls me frequently and thanks me profusely for sharing the opinions I express always ends our conversations by intoning things such as, “You are our voice,” and closes with a prayer. I appreciate his support, but I sometimes break into a sweat when he says this.

Being expected to speak on behalf of an entire populace is too much to expect of a lone opinion writer.

As the first woman appointed Philadelphia police commissioner, Outlaw was in the unenviable position of leading a Police Department rife with allegations of sexism. She also had the misfortune of starting during a terrible time. Outlaw barely had time to orient herself before the city shut down because of COVID-19. And yet, as the city’s top cop, she was still expected to hit our mean streets running. And don’t get me started on the jokes about her hair.

Then the protests hit following the police killing of George Floyd, and local authorities tear-gassed demonstrators as they protested on the Vine Street Expressway. That callousness cost the city nearly $10 million and happened on her watch. She has to own that. Same with the department’s mishandling of last month’s killing of Eddie Irizarry.

Outlaw lasted a scant three and a half years — which is longer than the first female New York City police commissioner, Keechant Sewell, who announced in June she would resign after less than 18 months on the job. Studies show women and people of color typically have shorter tenures in leadership positions than their white and male counterparts. That’s in part due to the “glass cliff,” which refers to women or people of color getting promoted into precarious leadership positions when things aren’t going well, and then being left to fail.

She’s probably relieved to leave Philly with its many problems in her rearview mirror.

Outlaw had her flaws, of course. Could she have been a more commanding and effective leader? Yes. Could she have reached out to community leaders more? Most definitely. Could she have done more to move the needle on the city’s gun violence crisis? Undoubtedly. But the problems facing this city are systemic and intractable. They were here before her and will continue no matter who gets tapped to replace her.

Outlaw had her flaws, of course.

I give Outlaw props, though, for helping diversify the ranks by promoting female cops. I attended a promotional ceremony in 2021 when four Black female police officers were promoted to captain. That was the most in a single class in the entire history of the department.

Pause and let that sink in for a bit.

And never forget that it took a female police commissioner to make it happen.