I’ve been thinking a lot about something my friend Eileen Cooper Reed shared recently. She said, “racial equity is a practice.” I like that language because it helps me imagine ways I might better tone the muscles required for the lifelong work of becoming antiracist. It is lifelong work after all and at a certain point a white person must make the decision to join the marathon movement—or not.
The problems around us are manifestations of the problems within us—a deeply held, often unconscious, belief that some lives matter more than others. You, like me, didn’t make a deliberate choice to believe such an asinine thing, and hear me when I say, you don’t have to believe something for it to be firmly implanted in your brain. (Isn’t that terrible!) This is why we need to keep helping each other pull back the veil—to name and identify the, sometimes hidden, but always dominant white supremacy tide.
The question white people need to ask themselves is this one: Am I ready to make the conscious and consistent decision to be antiracist—to chip away at racist structures, policies, and ideas even if it means personal/professional sacrifice, even if it means discomfort, even when faced with the agony of unlearning, even if the change doesn’t happen in my lifetime? For me, this kind of question requires daily discernment (with God) as I seek to discover the best ways to engage and respond in action, taking into account my own potentials and limitations.
I’ve tried my best to articulate a few practices for the journey below. These ideas are compiled from my own careful and regular scan of content shared by a handful of Black brothers and sisters. I offer them here, not as a step-by-step guide or exhaustive list, but merely as an entry point intended to help fellow white sojourners enter more boldly into a lifelong posture of countering white supremacy—holy work, I think. I’m certain there are gaps and I’m open to feedback and deeper insight for those kind enough to offer their energy. While I’m aware that racism affects people across race and ethnic background, (and all strands of racism are significant and need to be eradicated), I’ve chosen to focus my lens below specifically on racism against Black people as it is they who have most often been placed at the bottom of the pile throughout our country’s history. Peace.
For those wondering where/how to begin:
Lament.
Grieve publicly and grieve privately over the racial inequalities present in every corner of our communities, offices, schools, churches, etc.
Learn.
Many white people lack understanding when it comes to the historical events that have led to unjust and inequitable systems. This is work we need to do ourselves or in community with other white people. Our Black brothers and sisters are not responsible for “awakening us” from our slumber. Start with the 1619 Project. Seek out the generational wisdom of Black women who are actively engaged in telling the truths of racism in our lives. Get to know Austin Channing Brown, Rachel Ricketts, Nikole Hannah-Jones, Mia Birdsong, Osheta Moore, and Rachel E. Cargle. There’s no shortage of things to read. Rachel Ricketts has compiled this robust list to explore. Otherwise, make Google your friend and renew your library card.
Listen.
Unfortunately, many white people don’t have a single Black person in their life they call “friend.” Heartbreaking. If that’s true for you, seek out Black authors, podcasters, influencers, etc. Watch their feeds, engage with their content, pay attention to their experience of the world. We will remain ignorant if we ignore voices different from our own—even if we don’t always agree or understand. Notice how you respond to the commentary you’re uncovering. Do you feel angry? Confused? Skeptical? Take stock of what you feel and allow your emotions to guide you to the next level of depth in your own education.
Keep speaking to your children.
It can’t be a once a year conversation. Kids will value what you value. Most studies show that children have internalized messages about difference by the age of three. There are many stories of racially charged violence in our middle schools and high schools. Your kids might surprise you by what they already notice. Step towards these conversations with courage and open ears. Make the extra effort to seek out children’s books illustrated by Black artists that feature Black characters. Share those with other moms and dads in your circle.
Talk to your white friends.
Create opportunities to sink into conversations about race. It will be awkward and messy—keep pressing in. God created all of us in his image. Do you believe it? Do your friends? We need to drag some things into the light before healing can take place. You will put your foot in your mouth. Keep trying. Lean on grace and offer compassion as you learn and grow with others.
Fund.
Join mailing lists and support organizations that advocate for social justice, racial equity, etc. These organizations will also be your window into stories that don’t typically make it into headline news. If your values align with the organization’s values, consider funding or supporting them in other ways. J.Jackson suggests selecting one or two issues to commit to and digging in until systemic change has occurred. Consider forming a giving circle with other allies to encourage conversation and action around wealth redistribution. Many of the powerful truth tellers listed above are for hire—pay them to steward your ongoing internal antiracism work. Support Black-owned businesses in your community and encourage white friends to become patrons as well. Educate yourself about Reparations for Black Americans. What do you think about that?
Love.
Theo Davis, artist and youth pastor at Restore Community Church in Kansas City, MO, reminds us that in the age of the internet mob mentality, a person who does something wrong, regardless of the severity, is prone to having their life ruined. It feels good to demonize people who do racially charged things. Yes, justice should be served AND this is also an opportunity to model the kind of forgiveness and reconciliation that leads to healing—radical Jesus love.
Consider alternatives.
One characteristic of white supremacy culture is the belief in binary (either/or) thinking. We’re tempted to believe there’s just one right way to do things so we spend a lot of energy trying to convince others to adopt our approach. When we operate with this mandate, we close ourselves off to adaptive, expansive thinking and therefore risk getting stuck in the same broken cycles. One place our racial/class bias can show up is in conversation around policing. You, like many white Americans, may have grown up believing police exist to “protect and serve.” Therefore, in a crisis moment, it’s only natural that your response would likely be to call the police. But could there be a more effective and less dangerous option? Most communities have a mental health crisis line. In certain scenarios, it may be enough to call on the support of your neighbors. I recognize that police abolition may feel like an extreme measure, especially if you’ve been socialized to believe their presence is necessary for social order and peace. Do some research on restorative/transformative/healing justice practice and see if any new pathways open in your thinking, especially when it comes to crime.
Keep the main thing the main thing.
In times of social protest, things can escalate very quickly—looting, property damage, etc.—fueling more conflict, anger, and division. Resist the temptation to zero in on isolated events. Systemic racism is our target. When you find yourself mindlessly scrolling the media, stop. Take a deep breath. Return to your body and remember the aim of our marathon movement. This is not about you.
For those in existing relationships:
Offer.
Provide your Black friends with something that relieves some of the everyday grief and burden caused by systemic racism. (Venmo cash for takeout, do laundry, watch children, offer your skills/gifts in service to their project, etc.)
For those in gatekeeping positions:
Redistribute power.
Join the board of directors for an organization that needs reform. Give up your panel seat to a Black colleague and/or refuse to participate in committee work if room isn’t made at the table for more people of color. Connect with leadership at your church and inquire about equity practices. Hire Black employees and actively invest in their leadership development. Share your social capital with young Black leaders (making introductions, using your platform to elevate their voice, etc.) How can you dismantle from the inside? Tema Okun offers this deep wisdom on White Supremacy Culture that I find especially helpful for organizations and teams. Brace yourself for years of work and lean on support from an established network of movement builders.
Addendum(s):
June 6, 2020
A Black friend told me today that I’m being very complicit in upholding white supremacy by safely “pondering on violence”—authoring posts like these—rather than actually speaking out against/denouncing anything. I’m not a disruptor, (in the “flip tables” sense), by nature, but I also see that I can’t be antiracist without being anti-(something). My friend also said, “there’s never a sense of urgency” in what I offer and “white supremacy thrives in that kind of safe space.” She went on to suggest that I engage in “equity” only to the extent it benefits me and warns that white people can get very comfortable in learning and never actually get to the action part. “Speaking truth to power is scary. White privilege means nothing if you don’t actually use it. You are able to say and do things and people will listen to you.”
I offer this feedback here simply to encourage and open hearts/minds/selves—mine included—even further.