In Our (white) Feelings on the Path to Antiracism

How to Get Unstuck

This week, I met a young white woman named Jess, who was deep in her feelings. Michelle and I were speaking (virtually) at a company’s Juneteenth event, and when we entered the conversation part of the presentation, Jess was one of the first to volunteer with a question. Participants don’t always turn on their cameras when they unmute, but Jess did. With her whole company watching and listening, she shared a personal experience that left her rattled. She had recently hired a young man (“who happened to be Black”), and when he showed up in a Black Lives Matter shirt, she blurted, “I like your shirt.” I’ll admit, after this opening, I was a bit worried about where this story was going, but I soon found out I didn’t need to be. According to Jess, the man reacted with a “look” — and her perception of it was one of judgment, or annoyance. Afterward, she told us she spent the entire day obsessing over having said the wrong thing, feeling guilty and ashamed, and wondering how she could do better. I don’t share this story in judgment of Jess — on the contrary. I share it because as she told the story, I physically felt, and identified deeply with, her reaction and feelings of shame, guilt and discomfort.

When I first was getting to know Michelle, my now partner in our organization From Privilege to Progress, I recall constantly being worried about what was okay to say, what might offend her or what was lurking inside me that might reveal my unexamined and unchecked biases. If I commented on how much I loved her new hairstyle, was that offensive? If I complimented her on her public speaking ability, was I insinuating that it was surprising to me? If I interrupted her mid-sentence as is my (bad) habit, was I silencing her? I spent hours, sometimes days, obsessing — like Jess — about these things, sometimes berating myself, sometimes judging myself, sometimes making excuses for why I even had any of these thoughts in the first place. We white people (particularly white liberals) are often so uncomfortable in our white skin, with our white thoughts and our white feelings, that it results in us centering ourselves in conversations about race and racism (See “white tears”) and inflicting harm on top of injury to Black people. (Same goes for Indigenous and other people of color.) Sometimes, as was the case with Jess and me, we keep those feelings inside, which is a much better choice of course, but still an unproductive one that keeps us stuck. In order to stay on the path to antiracism (and we must), we need to unearth the reasons why we feel what we do and understand what those feelings can teach us.

For those of you, like me, who also dread your feelings, the bad news is we can’t stop them from coming. But we can (and must, for ours and everyone else’s sake) be curious about them. Every time we get underneath our feelings, they dissipate a little bit more and leave us with the opportunity to approach new situations proactively and productively. And examining and understanding the feelings that come up when we think about or talk about race and racism allows us to understand how our own racial identity contributes to who we are as human beings in a world in which our race has meaning and power — power that can either be harmful to people of color or productive in dismantling racism in ourselves and our systems.

What advice did Michelle and I give to Jess? First, and most importantly, to understand that the feelings she was having, although uncomfortable, are a good thing. Feelings, like a fever when we’re sick, indicate that we’re struggling with something, and in this case it was understanding her biases and her responsibility in the fight for racial justice and equality.

In my case, the feelings I was having opened the door to understanding why I worried about what I might say to Michelle. I learned that I felt ashamed because I hadn’t yet done the work to understand her reality. I realized that I felt confused because I didn’t yet understand how my being white was an inevitable part of the equation between us and without having confronted my own biases, we couldn’t yet have a friendship that was truly authentic. And I found out that I felt defensive because I realized the words weren’t the crux of the problem, that it was the meaning behind them that carried the power to cause harm. Once I began to understand these “whys,” I could recognize the feelings as indicators to look deeper so I could check myself when my biases arose. Scholar, historian and author Ibram Kendi tells us there are only two options in any given moment — racist and antiracist. We are all, he says, both victims and perpetrators, having been indoctrinated from childhood with racist ideas. I have learned that it takes constant vigilance to fight them because, as the saying goes, “White supremacy is a helluva drug.” Being curious when feelings arise about race and racism (and for God’s sake not inflicting them on people of color) and doing the work to understand them will ensure that you learn, grow and, as Austin Channing Brown says, “be a better human to other humans.”