Unlearning Racism
This blog is meant for my non-Black friends and readers, as my intention is not to make the current devastating events about white people in general or me in particular.
I am racist.
How can I say that, you ask? Those of you that know me know that I’m generally kind and often overly-compassionate, that I love people enthusiastically and wholeheartedly. But the truth is, like many things, racism exists on a large spectrum. The word itself brings up images of hooded men and burning crosses, but that is one far end of the spectrum, and the truth is that there are as many shades of racism as there are shades of skin color. I am nowhere near that extreme, but neither am I faultless.
I have forever and always benefitted from a system made for people like me – a system meant to reward white people and keep down black people- not by any brokenness of that system, but by its very structure. I am also guilty of microagressions that I only in the last few years have realized were tiny expressions of my own unknown and unacknowledged internalized racism. (Side note for those who are unaware of what microagressions are: “Indirect, subtle, or unintentional discrimination against members of a marginalized group. The kinds of remarks, questions, or actions are painful because they have to do with a person’s membership in a group that’s discriminated against or subject to stereotypes. A key part of what makes them so disconcerting is that they happen casually, frequently, and often without any harm intended, in everyday life.”) My statements were made without malice, yes, but they were no less harmful. That is the scary thing about racism: even when you don’t feel hate or violence in your heart, it can still be infecting you, affecting you, and most importantly, affecting the people of color around you.
Racism is so internalized, so deeply ingrained in this country that most don’t even remember how they learned it. My parents taught me we were all equal. We never spoke ill or bullied or victimized people of color. We didn’t have to. I have so blatantly lived a life of privilege that racism wasn’t even a blip on my radar.
(And let me take a second to ride a short side tangent about that privilege:
The term “white privilege” was hard for me, too, the first time I heard it. I felt vilified. I felt insulted. But the truth is, I didn’t even really know what it meant. It’s actually very simple. All it means is that the color of your skin is not something that causes you hardship, fear, or additional struggle in life. It does not mean that you don’t struggle at all. It does not mean that your life hasn’t been hard or you haven’t worked your ass off. It just means that you’ve never had to do those things in conjunction with dealing with prejudices and hardships brought about by your skin color. It is not an insult.)
So here I am, I have acknowledged my privilege. I am learning to confront and admit my prejudices with shame and confusion and not a little bit of embarrassment. But why did it take me so long to see it? Why was it so uncomfortable for me to admit that racism is alive and well in the country I love so much? And how do you unlearn something you never remember learning in the first place?
There is no short answer and no short solve. For me, it’s starts with two things. I will lead my unlearning with empathy. All I have to do is put myself in the shoes of someone who’s father or husband was just murdered by a policeman kneeling for 9 minutes on his neck, murdered while jogging, murdered while carrying skittles, murdered in her own home, murdered, murdered, murdered. It is easy for me to access that devastation, that heartbreak, and most importantly, the absolute fury I would feel at living in a place where these things happen daily. It turns out that when you turn George Floyd or Ahmaud Arbery or any other victim of this sort of crime into your own family member, your own husband, wife, sister or brother, son or daughter, it becomes really easy to see why protests and riots and rage are happening all around us. It becomes really easy to see why being “not racist” is no longer enough; why it is now necessary to be aggressively and loudly anti-racist.
Another part of my unlearning is to hold myself accountable. Admitting where I fall short, admitting where I could have and should have been a better ally. It starts with asking myself and others important questions about why we’re here and how it got this way. That also means doing the work – reading, researching, listening. Not just about what’s going on right now, but about Black history (the how we got here), reading Black literature, articles, & fiction (the how it feels), and following Black voices (the what can we do about it.) But even that is not enough. Holding myself accountable also means not just being a performative ally, posting the IG story, sharing the article, writing this blog, but also taking tangible action: making the calls to leadership, standing with POC in their fight, and spending my money in support of businesses and foundations that will lift them up. They need me. They need us. People of color in America can no longer do this on their own, and God knows, they shouldn’t have to. They should never have had to.
I would love if you would join me in my unlearning. However, there is one caveat: this is not a problem to bring to the Black people in your life. They do not need your feelings, your thoughts, your apologies, your questions, your devastation and shock, though I understand the desire to share it with them. This makes us feel better, but does not do the same for them. They live with this day in and day out, every minute of their lives. Let them rest.
This unlearning of racism is on us. It is our duty and our job to figure it out – to do the work and to become the kind of allies that are needed to dismantle a system that is not meant for them and fight for something better.
As for me, the first actions on my long list of becoming a better ally are to read this book by Ta-Nehisi Coates and donate to the NAACP Legal Defense Fund. I’ve added links to other organizations that are also doing great work. But if you can’t support with your wallet, you always have your voice.
https://www.joincampaignzero.org/