On White Privilege and Racism | Black Lives Matter
One of the wonderful parts of having a presence on social media is seeing the numbers. Everyday I see the hundreds and sometimes thousands of you who interact with the content I put online. Because of this I know it is my duty to speak up regarding the current war that is happening in our country. I realize that this may be difficult for some of my family and friends to read, but I’ve decided it’s too important not to share. If you are a white person who feels a defensive wall pop up when the topic of racism comes up, if it makes you feel uncomfortable and tempts you to unfollow the influencers who share their stance openly, I urge you to read on because I’ve been there too.
Just a few short years ago I thought those who posted on topics such as this were extreme. I felt safer and more comfortable in the middle. I thought focusing on oppression only bred negativity and I was (and still am) a dedicated optimist, but boy was I wrong. I’m sharing my experience with unlearning racism and white supremacy as a white woman of privilege with hopes that you might see some of yourself in my story and recognize how and where you can grow. If you’ve been unsure of where you stand throughout these current events I can only hope that this post makes you curious. I encourage you to follow that curiosity fearlessly.
I attended high school in a small town and all white community in Wisconsin. I still remember learning about the phenomenon called The Bootstrap Myth in my sophomore year of Social Studies (for those who may not know, the bootstrap theory is a form of covert racism). I can still see those words inked on my history textbook: The bootstrap myth is the belief that a person in the United States who works hard, assumes personal responsibility, and maintains a strong moral center can accomplish anything.
At the time, my poor little 16 year old brain could not wrap my head around this concept. Unfortunately, not because I am white, but because I was in the midst of some serious suffering within my family unit. As a teenager, I had taught myself that pulling myself up by my bootstraps and carrying on was the best and only way to cope with and survive trauma. I firmly believed that this was not a myth and that maybe not everything we learned in school was true. I had to.
Fast forward to 2013, the beginning of the Black Lives Matter movement. I was in college at this time in Milwaukee, one of the most segregated cities in the country and only a few miles away from the town I call home. I admit with a heavy heart now that my reaction to this movement was, “Yes, but don’t all lives matter?” I was confused, a little curious, but for the most part I went on with my oh-so-privileged life.
I wasn’t able to begin to understand my white privilege until I was out of school when I moved to Florida where the 3 people I became closest to, and who I now consider some of my best friends, were all first generation Americans. These people are all my age and similar to me in so many ways, but I heard them speak about problems I never had, their beliefs on topics that I never needed to think about, and ideas for a world that would better support their needs. So often I felt out of place, a little disoriented, and shameful during these conversations, but the important part is that I leaned in and listened.
In the years following and leading right up to today, I’ve dedicated so much of my life and time to doing what I call, “The Work.” The Work for me has looked like experiencing new cultures, becoming friends with people who are different than me, reading, reading, and reading some more, meditating, and every day getting really comfortable with feeling uncomfortable. Because that’s where the magic happens.
Here is the part I want to highlight for my white readers and friends: The Work is what brought me to acceptance of my past and only then was I able to hold space, have radical empathy, and put my desire to help into action for those who do in fact have it worse than me.
So many of us live without recognizing our white privilege because admitting that it’s there makes us feel shame and guilt. It is my belief that because white people carry pain from non-race related traumas (as do all humans - so of course this means trauma is multiplied for people of color) many of us are just not willing to feel any more pain, so we overlook the truth because that is easier.
Realizing racism and working on ourselves to overcome our implicit biases is painful and difficult work. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. I ache inside knowing that I have been a part of the problem. In fact, I haven’t talked to a single white person who is doing this work who doesn’t tell me about the shame and guilt they feel while doing it. Change hurts, which is why we call them “growing pains.” I’ve been a beginner at this and I’m still in the baby stages of unlearning. I’m not perfect at this messy process, but I do know that 5-years-ago me would’ve really needed to read this from a white woman I admired. I see you. I know that those who follow me are primarily white, and so if you feel the urgent temptation to unfollow when you see me or others posting about the current state of humanity I ask you to look inside yourself and see where and how The Work can be done.
Becoming an ally takes courage, empathy, and dedication. Qualities that every single individual has inside themselves. I know we can do this. We have to. It’s well past time.
Notes:
- I do not condone or believe in the Bootstrap Myth. It is a form of racism which, as a teenager, I had taken out of context.
- White privilege is not about being spoiled as a child. Here is a helpful article if you feel confusion around what white privilege looks like.
- If a person of color reading this wants point out any information that may be harmful or misleading here or weigh in on what I could do better, please do so.
This post is one way I’m attempting to be a better ally, by not staying silent, but becoming a good ally is nuanced. I am also adding books about racism to my bookshelves, donating here and here, reaching out to my BIPOC friends, taking a class on white privilege, and knowing that this work never ever stops.
