Jenée Johnson wants the San Francisco Department of Public Health—all 9,000 employees—to take a deep breath. And another deep breath. And another. She wants them—janitors and judges, IT technicians and social workers—to find, in those breaths, the opening notes of a mindfulness practice. Those moments of calm, she believes, are the foundation of emotional intelligence and its skills of resilience and compassion. In effect, Johnson’s title—Program Innovation Leader: Mindfulness, Trauma, and Racial Equity —positions her as the municipal agency’s chief mindfulness officer.
In that capacity, she is bringing mindfulness into the agency’s ongoing work with trauma. That work includes mandatory training for every employee about the prevalence of trauma; how it can affect both the agency’s clients and its workforce; and how to take a systemic approach to foster wellness and resilience. Johnson also forged the agency’s partnership with the Google- bred Search Inside Yourself Leadership Institute, where she completed a nine-month teacher certification program. Previously, Johnson served for 15 years as the director of the agency’s Black Infant Health Program, incorporating mindfulness into her intervention work with mothers. Johnson lives with her husband in Oakland, where they raised their son.
Tell me about the words in your title at the Department of Public Health: mindfulness, trauma, and racial equity.
Trauma and stress are chronic public health issues. The department is saying we need to address the ways that trauma and stress affect us in the workforce, so that we don’t end up doing harm to each other and to the very people we seek to help.
And mindfulness?
We are hoping we can become a more mindful organization and that we can nest our trauma work in being present and conscious and kind. Learning to reset, recognizing unconscious biases, building resilience, helping the leadership be more compassionate—these are the things we want to encourage, through mindfulness.
What about racial equity?
Racism is a form of trauma. To begin to unravel the harm of racism—the historical trauma, the microaggressions, the white fragility that often is a barrier to conversation—people need to have a level of self-awareness, to be able to sit, without judgment, with what is uncomfortable, to be present and aware, and to hold this inquiry with curiosity and kindness.
My hope is that in becoming a mindful organization we will have greater focus, emotional balance, and the tools for the difficult conversations that need to happen. Being mindful—knowing and being in touch with what is going on with you—is essential to undoing racism.
A complex and bureaucratic organization like the San Francisco Department of Public Health does not seem like the most mindfulness-friendly setting. How do you maintain your inspiration?
Even within the confines of a bureaucratic system, I look for what is at the heart of human excellence. We work in an institution that is risk-averse, but we want to flourish. We want to do better for ourselves and for the communities we serve. We want to bring the fullness of our humanity to work.
What about trauma in your own life?
When I think of my own life, the thing that ends up being the most consistently traumatizing is racism.
Tell me more about that, will you?
Five or six years ago, I was in a small store—a home-lifestyle boutique—with my son. He was about 16 at the time, a tall Black boy wearing what all kids wear: a hoodie. We drifted to different sides of the store, and he was looking at the gadgets. I saw the store owner hone in on him, watching him intently. Is he profiling my child? “Hey, hi, that’s my son!” I said to the owner. We laughed it off. But my blood pressure went up, because I thought not about that particular moment but about all the moments when I would not be there to say, “Hey, that’s my baby, my boy, and he’s a good kid.”
I know women who have lost their sons. I know them. Even before that incident, I had begun waking up in the middle of the night. My naturopath said my cortisol levels were high, and I connected that and the insomnia with the hypervigilance I felt I had to have, as the mother of a young Black boy. I would blow up my son’s phone: Where are you? On the bus? Well, where’s the bus? How far away are you? Call me. Text me. Answer the phone. It was ridiculous. I had to address the anxiety that was running through me. I was like, “This cannot be my heritage, this lack of joy and constant worry. I’ve got to let go of this.” Mindfulness helped me to release—release it, Jenée—and to practice envisioning another way for myself and for my son.
What does mindfulness offer people of color?
For me, it’s a practice to rest and replenish and restore my humanity, which is one of the things that racism strips from you. My practice around mindfulness is a practice of reclamation—an African principle called sankofa, reclaiming what was left behind or what was lost. Mindfulness gives us the chance to rewrite that narrative. Mindfulness is a superpower. For people of color—particularly Black people—the practice of mindfulness becomes a protective factor. When microaggressions come at me, mindfulness offers me protection. I don’t have to be caught up and reactive. I can have self-compassion, and that self-compassion builds my courage.
When microaggressions come at me, mindfulness offers me protection. I don’t have to be caught up and reactive. I can have self-compassion, and that self-compassion builds my courage.
Can you give me an example or two?
I recently spoke at a conference, and afterward a white woman came up to me. “That was so great,” she said. “You’re a real ball buster!” No sister would ever say that to me. I had to say, “Excuse me? No, no, no.” I could have reacted with upset, but instead I chose to firmly correct her. That is where mindfulness came in: I chose my response. “I am not a ball buster,” I told her. “I am not a woman who annihilates men. That’s not who I am.” When a Black woman shows up in her fullness and her vibrancy, when her frequency is high, a narrative gets created: You’re too much. You’re too loud. You’re a ball buster. Not! It was so automatic for her to say that. That is what goes on, for us, every day.
Another time, I’m in a department store with a friend, and we’re carrying bags—because we’ve spent quite a lot of money. We’re laughing, walking to another department—to spend more money!—and the security guard is following us. I look toward him and he looks me dead in my eyes. I looked back at him, stunned that this could be happening. After all, I had two shopping bags full of merchandise I had paid for.
In those moments, there is what Viktor Frankl called a space between stimulus and response. Do I choose reactivity? Or do I take a breath, assess the situation, and then choose my response?
I paused, smiled at him, and kept going. I went on to enjoy the day with my friend. Sometimes my response has to have more teeth in it, but it is a response I get to choose, because I have a practice.
Do you have a daily practice?
I have a daily practice that includes prayer, meditation, and journaling, and often some scripture reading. Sometimes I’ll use a guided meditation. Right now, I really like the “Daily Calm” feature from the Calm app; sometimes I’ll just sit quietly with no guide. I journal—gratitudes or affirmations or desires. I usually do this in the morning, sitting at the kitchen counter, with a cup of hot water and lemon.
What are some of the deep roots of mindfulness in your own life?
The notion of being quiet and still was a part of what my family did. My family is from the Caribbean, and I would observe the elders just shutting things down and sitting quietly or lying down. When I visited my great-aunts in the Caribbean, they would say, “Let’s go take a sea bath.” I remember the first time one of my great-aunts said that. A sea bath? I wondered, What is that? You would just sit in the salt water—not swimming around, but just sitting, letting yourself be soothed by the salt water.
Mindfulness is a banner that gathers up different practices from a variety of cultures. It’s not just for one culture. The human breath belongs to the human being.
Mindfulness is a banner that gathers up different practices from a variety of cultures. It’s not just for one culture. The human breath belongs to the human being.
Black people have been practicing mindfulness forever. Think about the Montgomery bus boyco