Today's post is dedicated to this book, which I got from the library and read in less than two weeks,(which is fast for me) and promptly ordered a copy of my own because I found it so helpful in my quest to rid myself of my white privilege and the racism in which I partake. It's a very well-written, easy-to-read book and I recommend it to anybody who is trying to do the same thing. I particularly recommend it to any white person who isn't trying to come to terms with their white privilege and don't want to dismantle institutional racism.
So, what is white fragility? White people are used to being the default. We are used to being what is considered "normal" and everybody else is measured against us. It's why people of color are looked at as "fill in country/continent of origin"-Americans, and white people are just "Americans". We are also used to being looked at as individuals with our own thoughts and ideas, not part of a collective. For example, when a crime happens by an individual from a marginalized group, the media often portrays their entire community as guilty of or inclined to participate in such activities. You will see individuals from that community speak out and condemn the person and distance the rest of the community from that person. When a white person does the exact same crime, the media portrays that person as a "lone wolf" or a "disturbed individual". Rarely do you see other white people speaking out to distance the rest of white people from that individual, because we know that they don't represent the rest of us. We're all individuals, after all. White fragility is the knee-jerk reaction we all have when we hear white people being talked about as white people. It's that moment of indignation we have when we are referred to as a collective, instead of as an individual. If you have ever responded with something along the lines of "Not all white people," "I don't see color," or "But we all experience racism," then you have responded with white fragility. It is the part inside all white people that demands to be looked at as not racist and as an individual, outside a collective. The truth is, however, that we are both of these. We are racists and we are a part of a collective. Becoming more comfortable with these uncomfortable truths is the key to dismantling our white fragility which will put us farther along on the path to dismantling the racism in ourselves and in our institutions.
The author, Robin DiAngelo has a lot of good points in her book and I took notes on some of them that I will share here.
The first point is that the concept of disabling racism begins with ourselves. It is by nature a solitary and self-centered endeavor. This might feel selfish at first, but it's important for two reasons. One-It keeps us from falling into the self-righteous trap of pointing out how much worse other racist white people are, so we, by default, seem less bad. This just reinforces our white fragility. We must stop pointing out how much worse other white people are, because it only continues to make us feel like individuals instead of part of the larger collective of white people. Two-This also keeps us from becoming white saviors. We do not need to "save" people of color. We just need to get ourselves right and then turn the fight outward and upward to dismantle or revamp institutions that reinforce our racist system. When the systems and our attitudes are adjusted properly, things will fall into place for everybody. It's a simple concept, but far more difficult to do than we'd ever care to admit.
Another point I gleaned from the book is this: addressing our white fragility and working to move past it, is not about being looked at as amazing or "woke". It isn't about being seen as one of the good people or better than other white people. It's about doing the right thing, because it's the right thing to do. If we hope for or expect accolades or respect, then we're in it for the wrong reason.
The book talks about a "good/bad binary" which I found really helpful in explaining racism in white people. We tend to look at racists as "bad" and if we know ourselves to be "good" people, then logically, we cannot be racist. But that's not how it works. Racism is deeper than our goodness or badness. It's our default. It's the default of the world we have created. We can still be good people who are racist. It's up to all of us to decide how we deal with this.
Another concept the book talks about is how we are willing to accept criticism. I haven't personally experienced this because nobody has called me on my racism, but I imagine I would be able to check off the entire list the author gives of just how and where and when white people will accept criticism from people of color about our racism. I'm sure I could totally handle it, as long as the person doing it is nice to me, and apologetic while doing so. As long as they don't yell at me or act angry towards me, I'm sure I'd be fine. Because of course, I didn't mean anything by it, and of course I'd never say something hurtful on purpose. Shouldn't they know that about me? As long as it's done on my terms, I'm sure I would be totally fine with being called out on my racism. I might not even cry or react with my white fragility as a default. If that sounds like you too, you definitely want to read this book.
One of the most important things this book did, was make me look at my life now and in the past, to see where I am racist. How do I benefit from living in a racist system, and what exactly am I willing to do to dismantle said system when it works so well for me? Because admitting we have a problem is the first step to recovering from it, I am going to willingly place myself in a vulnerable place. I am going to go first, and tell the world, how I am a racist who benefits from living in a racist system.
I live in Seattle. While we have the reputation of being a very liberal city, on closer look, it is a highly segregated city. I grew up and still live in the northern part of the city, which is largely white. The vast majority of my teachers and fellow students, were white. Everybody in my neighborhood and all of my friends growing up, were white. I didn't dislike people of color, it's just that there weren't any in the places I inhabited. We didn't visit places where people of color lived, because they were both too far away and too "dangerous" as neighborhoods. Everybody knew that South Seattle, the Central District, and the International District, were unsafe places to live or visit. The news told us so all the time, and what motive did they have to lie to us? My family never had any reason to go to those places, so we didn't. But it wasn't because of hate. It was just one of those things.
Because I grew up in a largely white world, race didn't exist for us. It was never a problem for us. We knew it was a problem "out there" for other people, but it wasn't our fault and it wasn't our issue. Sure it was unfair, but what are you going to do? It's really sad that the world is so cruel and unfair, but it's just the way it was.
Growing up in the 80's and 90's, most of the things I watched on tv or in movies, were filled with white people who looked like me. Except the commercials, which were filled with images of starving naked African children, dying for goodness knows what reason. We learned very early on that Africa was filled with starving people that we Americans needed to take care of, because they were clearly unable to take care of themselves. Everybody knew that it was totally corrupt "over there" and that the governments just looked out for themselves. Not like here, of course. There was no history lesson attached to these commercials explaining just how this had come to be. Colonialism...that was back when the Revolutionary War was, right? But we hoped for the best for those poor people from Africa. We even wrote a Christmas song about it and how there would be no snow in Africa this Christmas. We sung about how we were the world, and the people, and all the money earned probably went somewhere to help somebody, and we felt so good about caring about others. We were really proud of ourselves.
There were shows on tv that I did enjoy growing up. Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, A Different World, The Cosby Show, and Living Single all stood out to me as great examples of tv shows focusing on a group other than myself. There were no shows about Asian Americans, Native Americans, or Latinx Americans, but I did enjoy those shows. But they were always looked at as standing out from the mix of shows I watched as a kid. They were "black" shows and I knew full well that they were. They were outside my experience, but I still enjoyed them. For white people to enjoy these shows, it showed how not racist we were. Even as young people, we knew it was better to be viewed as not racist. But this isn't the same thing as being not racist.
And they were hardly an equal amount of shows compared to shows geared towards a white audience. According to Wikipedia, there were approximately 1900 tv series from the 80's and 90's. Out of a 20 year time span, I listed 4 tv series as the ones I watched, and in my mind, must have summed up what it meant to be a person of color then. 4/1900 can hardly be considered a comprehensive example. There were other shows of course, but I didn't watch them as much.
As I grew up and went to college and entered the workforce, I never had to wonder if my skin color would be a barrier to me. Because I knew it wouldn't. My schools and workplaces were mostly white, and when I worked in the restaurant industry, most of the people of color were the bussers or dishwashers, who spoke little-to-no English. Or they grew and picked our food or cleaned our hotel rooms. And since everybody knew they may or may not have been in this country legally, these were the only types of positions available to them in the workforce food chain. But what could you do about it, really? It's just the way it was.
As an adult, I still don't go to certain neighborhoods because they are too far away or too "unsafe". Or because I don't know anybody there or am afraid I'll be unwelcome. So, I stay in my "safe" white neighborhood, were I interact with mostly white people, work at jobs with mostly white coworkers and clients. I stay in my white bubble, privilege well intact. I don't tend to challenge it or question it or try to change it, because what's to fix? I'm a good person and I don't have hate in my heart because I was taught to love all people. I live a relatively easy life, in which my whiteness is never named and is never a problem. I know that other people experience racism, but I never actually witness it. They live in parts of Seattle I don't go to, because they're too far away and unsafe. And when I am around people of color, I make extra sure to monitor whatever I say or do, in order to not offend anybody or upset anybody. I smile, I'm very polite, nice, and helpful, just so they'll know for sure that I harbor no hatred in my heart towards them. I don't want to be accused of being a racist, after all. Because that's simply not the case.
I fight for things I feel are the right thing to do, but always it comes from a place of privileged perspective. I never consider that people might have different needs or different ways to resolve issues. It just never occurred to me, because everybody else around me, is just like me. (Note: white people can use being part of a collective to our advantage, whenever it works in our favor to. Otherwise, we do ask that you look at us only as individuals. We like to work the system both ways whenever it would work out in our best interest to.)
Sometimes I still find myself thinking that if we all just got along and loved each other, there would be no more racism and everything would be just fine. What a perfect world that would be. One day, we might get there, but until then I'll just keep waiting and hoping for the best. Because, what else can I do? The system is too big and I'm just one person. What's the point of even trying?
And that is how I am a racist. How are you a racist?
