Dear White Friends,

Can we please stop saying: "I'm not racist."

Racism is part of our cultural heritage.

It is only by admitting this--that we are racist-- that we can begin the hard work of undoing all the implicit bias we carry as we jog freely through neighborhoods, or head to the park to spot a rare bird.

Western society raised us with whiteness as the norm, the rule, the bar, the golden halo, and everyone else as other, less than, the side story, a month within a calendar year.

This is our work to undo.

We need to dismantle the notion that our skin makes us superior--especially when we don't consciously believe this is true.

When we consider ourselves "good" white folks because we believe in equality and want social justice, but deny our inheritance of racism, we can be even more dangerous than the KKK.

Everyone knows where the cross carrying figures in white robes stand when it comes to seeing black men and women as equal--but not so the dog walker in the park.

Not so the nervous white woman with a cell phone.

Years ago, I attended a diversity workshop in Portland Maine as part of my work as an advocate for victims of domestic violence. For one exercise I sat across from a partner with the prompt to say the first word that came to my mind in response to  "black" repeated multiple times.

I remember wanting to appear like a "good white person" to the one older black woman in the room and censored my first thoughts--"dark, dangerous, violent"--with "bold, midnight, beautiful." My partner shared similar complimentary words.

When we finished, the facilitator asked if anyone had a response. The woman I so wanted to impress said: "I'm disappointed. I'm disappointed that even here, in an anti-racism workshop, they cant be honest."

This experience took place more than twenty years ago but it is one that branded my consciousness. She wanted to hear the biases she knew we carried that I wasn't yet able or willing to admit. 

I've travelled far since then-- but I still have so much work to do.

We all have work to do.

As a teenager and young adult I drove too fast, and more often than I'd like to admit heard sirens and lights behind me. My only fear, my parents response; and more often than not, the cops let me off with a warning.

As a cute white girl with a quick story, never once did I worry where to place my hands. One of my countless privileges--I never sat besides my Mom or Dad as a kid listening to "The Talk" on how to behave in front of an officer.

When I taught at the maximum security male prison last year, a seventeen-year-old  boy joined the population due to fighting constantly at the juvenile jail. Our superintendent took him under his wing, determined to keep him safe, and pushed him to get his GED before release.

I spent hours talking with this young black man, originally from Mississippi. He taught me far more than I taught him.

"So you're telling me that even if your best friend was killed and you had information on who did it you wouldn't call the police?" I asked during one of our conversations about his plans for life on the outside.

He just laughed at me, "Ah Ms Jordan, we'd never call the police."

"But what if you had information that could help solve the crime?"

He shrugged and gave me his sly smile: "We'd take care of it ourselves."

"But what if you want to stay out of trouble this time?"

"Then I definitely wouldn't call the police," he laughed.

When the law doesn't protect you, what is the point of following the law? When your story is silenced, how long till the words combust?

When your heart isn't heard, do you burn to make your pain visible?

As a white ally we need to listen. And see. And listen some more.

There is still so much work to do.

It is our work.

It is my work.

 

(And for my readers wondering what this post has to do with raising a child with special needs--everything.)

Comments

[David Selinger]

#truth

[Pat Yankus]

So true, Christie. Done years of anti-racism work and i still have much more work to do. I always will. Hugs. Pat

[Christy]

The work is our life's work--we owe it to humanity to keep unpacking our biases and shedding light on our privileges.

Thank you Pat and David!

[Kate]

Agreed. Just had this same conversation with our kids around the campfire last night.

[Christy]

Olive and I talked about this today too Kate. Its on us to make things better, to make reparations for the world we inherited.

[Bonnie]

Thank you for writing this piece as well as sharing it. And yes it has everything to do with raising children: all children.

👍❤️.

[Justine]

Thanks for addressing the racism in which we all are implicit, a sobering reality made painfully clear with the most recent police brutality.