Is it OK to be white?
Yes, of course. Vilifying whiteness is destructive. Instead, we (whites) need to recognize the historical, structural, and embedded implications of ‘whiteness' so we're able to work through them and create a transformed identity as white people committed to equality and social change.
Growing up, I didn’t think twice about anyone who wasn’t white and what their struggles were because I had my own, plus it didn’t impact me directly. ‘We all get the same opportunity and I’m not racist because I know black people, right?’ Wrong. This was my thinking.
We didn’t have a lot growing up. My dad filed for bankruptcy and my mom went to work as a secretary and delivery girl shortly after my parents divorced. There was a lot of turmoil in our family. Several marriages and divorces, alcoholism, drug addiction, abuse and more. It wasn’t easy. I learned to adjust and to survive. I still graduated from high school, went on to college, got a job, etc. . . . .just like it’s supposed to go, right? I worked hard and if anyone works hard, they can do it too, I thought. I always had a good work ethic though and would go after the jobs I wanted and would get them. Through all of our family problems, I knew my parents loved me and they worked hard to make sure we had our basic needs met. When I was young, my sister, brother, and me were on free lunches at school because my mom couldn’t afford to buy us lunch. Today, Republicans would call that socialism. Whatever you call it, it saved us and afforded us the opportunity to carve out a good life. This ‘American Dream’ is not necessarily a reality for people of color.
It wasn’t until the 2016 election that I had begun to have deeper understanding of what people of color have been going through and fighting against for centuries. Something clicked and changed in me. It was like seeing humanity for the very first time and feeling nothing but pain, shame, and anguish. I couldn’t stop crying for months on end. In that agony, I discovered why I was born. It wasn’t a smooth transition from ignorance to awareness, which isn’t untypical for me; I tend to be clunky. That didn’t stop me though, I’m OK with building the plane as I fly it.
I didn’t have a plan other than I knew I had a voice. I wasn’t sure how I was going to use it but I had faith that I would find my footing. In the sheer pain and rawness after that dark day back in November of 2016, I would hug any person of color I saw. . . in the grocery store, at the movie theater. . . .walking their dog. . .it didn’t matter, then I would apologize profusely for not getting it and for not being there to support the injustice they have (still) endure(d) and I would start sobbing. And, no, I didn’t know them. I was struggling. I didn’t know what to do. For all those people I did that to, thank you for being patient and for hugging me back. Thank you. I understand it’s not your job to explain it to me; it’s my job.
So I called and wrote Black Lives Matter several times asking if they accepted white people and couldn’t get through to anyone. I was desperate; then I took a step back and asked myself “Why am I desperate? Is this to heal me or to dedicate the hard work and time it takes to stand up against injustice and stand shoulder to shoulder with people of color to call out the constant injustice they encounter daily even though it didn’t have a direct impact on me?” The answer was a harder pill to swallow than I expected because I started to realize it was more about healing me. At that point, I made a conscious decision to dedicate the myself to the hard work and time to not only call out injustices that affect me, but also to speak truth to power against injustices that didn’t impact me directly. I took it a step further and attended a workshop on White Privilege because I lean the hell in. I thought to myself “This is good. I’m gonna go and support people of color.” As I was walking into the workshop, I thought to myself, “Where are all the black people? I’m here to help them and support them. All I see are white people.” STILL! I DIDN’T FUCKING GET IT. I thought I understood what white privilege and implicit bias were but I soon realized I KNEW NOTHING. It’s rare, like, really rare, that I can feel uncomfortable, but during that workshop, I was on edge and uncomfortable the entire time. I felt like I was being challenged even though no one was challenging or pointing the finger at me directly. In fact, it was a brave space; kind of like a safe space but one step further. This wasn’t a space where people were being called out but rather called in to help create a culture and community where people want to be. This was a place to make mistakes, take risks, learn, and keep going. It was being committed to challenge myself to be outside of my comfort zone and believe me, I was way far out of that zone. As I remained out of my comfort zone, I felt like my identity and country were totally redefined as something dark, hateful, and ugly. I felt raw, attacked (again, no one attacked me), and that my entire view of life was a lie. It was extremely uncomfortable and that’s exactly why I stayed. Those were some fucking hard truths to get my head around but it was equally empowering because now I’m more aware and can be a much better ally. I learned so much that day and I have so much more to learn. As I think about going to another workshop, I feel anxiety because I know it’s hard work but I also know it’s the right work so I am mindful that moving directly into my anxiety will dissolve it and bring me to a higher level of awareness to use my privilege to bring about equality and social change. I encourage every white person or people who identify as white to attend a white privilege workshop; not to make you feel bad or ashamed of being white but to empower you to use your privilege for good. White People for Black Lives is an excellent place to start.
As I go about my day(s), I do encounter young white men who are struggling with thinking they should feel bad because they’re white. Each conversation has a similar theme: They feel attacked for being white men, they seem distraught, confused, upset, and/or teary-eyed. I sit and listen to them because I understand that it’s real for them and I would never dismiss that. More times than not I would reach my hand to theirs and hold it as they shared. They reached back and I’d sit there, sometimes for hours, holding hands with my fellow human. There was no yelling. There was no, ‘I’m right and you’re wrong.’ No ‘I hate you.’ None of that; however, I did challenge them by asking questions in my Michelle way. The more they spoke, the closer I got, not to change their mind or make them feel bad but to show empathy and understanding while asking them profound questions they couldn’t answer. I would share personal stories of direct experience(s) I had/have that directly contradict what they’ve been hearing. In the end, I usually would get a hug and they would come to the conclusion that we care about many of the same things. Then I’d encourage them to take a workshop on white privilege (because, you know, it’s me) and/or go to the places they say are fine and deny atrocities that are actually happening. A few of them said they would go and asked for more information which I provided. I understand the confusion, pain, and why they feel threatened [I felt it as someone who was “aware”] because everything they thought they knew about being young men is being challenged for the first time. Just the other day, a young, white male asked me why it’s not OK to celebrate white heritage. I said “That’s like a kid asking his mom on Mother’s Day why there isn’t a kids day.” He got it. I think, although I’m hopeful.
Unfortunately, politicians prey on white privilege and have historically pit poor working whites against blacks to weaken their collective power and increase their own power and wealth. They don’t even hide it anymore. It’s shameful and breaks my heart every day that people buy into it, including my own family. Sitting and talking with my family, who voted and support 45, has made me a better communicator because the fact is, I do love them yet I continue to challenge them. I had to work very hard to overcome that trauma and to not avoid or cut them out of my life. That would be way too easy and when something is easy, it’s usually lazy. And lazy I am not. I always find it interesting (and frustrating) that they tell me things like "The Resistance is violent.” My reply “Have we never met?” I believe in pulling the covers right off and moving in. The state of where we are right now is atrocious and even worse because people are hiding behind the bible and the flag to allow fascism to thrive in America! We fought a world war in the 1940’s to smash fascism. I’m not OK with fascism or the denial that it could happen here. It is happening here. I will never be OK with it and I will not stop working for a better community, state, country, and world until my last breath. I’m fighting for all of us. Every single one. I know I’m not perfect and sometimes I make mistakes but the point is I keep going, I keep trying, I get up again, I love again. I keep fighting. I continue to speak truth to power.
When you get called out for saying something racist (and no, it’s not OK or funny) or are challenged with the two words you hate “white and privilege” it doesn’t mean you should be ashamed of being white it means that, if you choose to, you can play a progressive and supportive role in amplifying the voices and demands of Black people, moving the white community to take a more active and participatory stance for racial justice, and apply strategic pressure on institutions to change racist policies.
I always aim for real conversations speaking to the issues, sharing personal stories, especially because I’m on the ground and I see what is actually happening first hand and 100% of the time, it directly contradicts 45 and his enablers. I’m happy to say that most of these conversations are good and there is some good listening all around but don’t get me wrong, if anyone got aggressive or tried to cause physical harm, I’d have no problem punching a Nazi.
