Antiracism and Becoming a Better Human

“The work of antiracism is the work of becoming a better human to other humans.”

– Austin Channing Brown

Prior to George Floyd’s murder, I hadn’t thought much about fighting racism through the lens of antiracism. I believed that either you’re racist, or you’re not, and that I lived on the “not racist” side of things, where the “good” people hang out.

To be honest, it was easy for me to qualify myself as “not racist.” In addition to being a health coach, I’m also a social worker. As part of my grad school training, I studied oppression, read books on racism, confronted my belief in the plausibility of the American dream, and uncovered my white privilege.

After I studied oppression, I then went on to spend much of my career advocating for those with no voice. Despite a working understanding of my white privilege and the knowledge that oppression and racism are still very rampant in the world, I’d never been asked to consider the fact that I might be racist.

In response to the plethora of articles, videos, and social media posts suggesting that being white meant that I was in fact racist, I found myself thinking there’s no way this could pertain to me.

When considering this suggestion, I experienced a variety of feelings from confusion to anxiety and sometimes even anger. I noticed that as a result of these uncomfortable feelings, I often landed in resistance to the notion that being “not racist” didn’t exist.

Despite my laundry list of internal justifications for why I couldn’t be racist, my discomfort made it quite clear that I was missing something in my understanding of the conversation and in what was going on inside me.

I just wasn’t exactly sure what that was yet.

In an effort to better educate myself, I took some time off social media to explore what I might not know and do some inner work around this.

When I returned to social media, I wanted to understand how I could feel so triggered every time someone told me I was racist or that all white people were racist.

I began following new people – in particular more black and antiracist educator accounts. I committed to holding the space for the opinions and experiences that were different than mine, no matter how uncomfortable this felt.

Time and again, despite a willingness to remain open to new ideas, I continued to feel extreme discomfort any time a call out came my way. As a result, in order to soothe myself, I returned to the notion that I was a good person and a social worker.

They weren’t talking about me, right?

While I wasn’t yet quite sure where I landed with what was going on inside of me, what I knew for sure was that by the look of things, I wasn’t ever going back to fitting into my comfortable little “not racist” category, because the veil had been lifted. It no longer existed.

As I kept uncovering new understanding, I got to the point where I didn’t want to look any longer at the shit that was caused by my own white privilege. I felt disgusted and powerless and continued to reject the notion that I had any active part in sustaining racism.

I am a good person. This isn’t me.

As a way out of the discomfort, I seriously considered on a few occasions the option of spiritually bypassing myself right back into denial.

Ironically, at the time, I couldn’t see that the fact that I even had this choice – as a white woman – to consciously stick my head in the sand and not be affected by racism, was in fact a direct product of my benefit from living in a racist system, as a white person.

At this point, I was very aware that my increasing discomfort did not pale in comparison to the trauma, pain, exhaustion, and slew of other feelings that black people felt as a result of George Floyd’s death and the multiple others like it.

The least I could do was continue to evaluate the reality that my own privilege – despite being a good, caring person – often made me blind to the countless other profound and detrimental effects of living in a racist society that only negatively impacts people of color (POC).

I had to listen, I had to look, and I had to find a way to be okay with what I found, which to be honest was not always pretty – or even fathomable.

If I wanted to move beyond what was starting to feel like some sort of identity crisis, in order to become a true advocate for POC and antiracism, I knew that adopting a stance of curiosity and non judgment were my only way through. Otherwise I’d never get to any sort of meaningful inner reflection out of fear for what I might find and the judgment and discomfort that would come along with it.

I began asking myself: What did I not know? What did I need to know? What was going on in me? What can I do? How can I better show up for black people and all POC? How can I work to better understand the experiences of POC?

What is my part in all of this?

Eventually, with a little help from Brene Brown’s Unlocking Us podcast episode with antiracist educator, author, and professor Dr. Ibram X. Kendi, I began to get the much-needed understanding for why I resisted being “not racist.”

“People don’t want to be racist because there’s shame attached to that,” Brown shares. “People don’t want to be antiracist because it’s work.”

Shit. My denial bubble busted. I felt relieved and also a bit scared. I realized I didn’t get to just do the work in grad school, sign up to be a social worker, be a “good” person, call myself “not racist,” and the work was done.

At the same time, I’d recently left a grueling social work position and quite frankly was still a bit burnt out from it. I wasn’t sure what I could – or would – be willing to offer in terms of advocacy and action.

Regardless of this fear, I saw that my repetitive internal validation of being a good person and a social worker was allowing me to position myself outside of having to do any real work around a very serious issue.

Ultimately I realized that being antiracist meant I couldn’t hide behind ideals or books I’d read 11 years ago. I had to commit to actual ongoing work.

Reflecting now on this podcast episode, I see there was a lot I didn’t fully absorb that first listen. But one thing I did hear was a message that ultimately inspired me to keep going down the path of self inquiry with regard to racism:

“By not running from the books that pain us,” Kendi says, “we can allow them to transform us. I ran from antiracist books my whole life, but now I can’t stop running after them – scrutinizing myself and my society and in the process changing both.”

Kendi’s presence and words broke through my resistance, opened me to a deeper willingness to explore that which I did not know, and ultimately hooked me into pursuing a better understanding of what antiracism really is.

It didn’t matter that I was burnt out. The fact that people were still dying as a result of a system that I benefited from, meant that I had an ongoing obligation to evaluate my role and my power in it.

As I continued reading and processing, I experienced another poignant shift in another Unlocking Us episode with Austin Channing Brown.

In this episode, Channing Brown debunks the myth that niceness disproves the presence of racism. “[With this belief,] it’s easy to start believing bigotry is rare and that the label racist should be applied only to mean-spirited intentional acts of discrimination,” she says.

In her lecture on White Fragility at the Seattle Central Library, Dr. Robin DiAngelo, researcher, author, and antiracism educator, explains that racism is not an act, it’s a system. She says that when white people don’t inquire, acknowledge, speak out, and/or take action to fight this system, we are complacent with racism.

Under this definition, if I do not actively fight racism, as a white woman who has participated in, benefitted from, and complied with the system that feeds it, I’m not practicing antiracism. I am in fact participating in racism.

Now, if you’re white, I know this can be difficult to hear. DiAngelo defines white fragility as “the inability to tolerate racial stress.” She explains that “racial stress is triggered when our positions, perspectives, or advantages are challenged.”

To be honest, it’s still challenging for me to consider any part of myself to be compliant with racism. My previous and deeply ingrained idea of racism – the one that is only applied to mean-spirited people who do horrible things – is one that is so appalling, it literally makes me feel anxious to associate myself with it.

But, hear me out, because this point is a major one that white people might miss or are unable to get past, because of the perceived threat the idea of being racist plays on our “good person” identity.

DiAngelo goes on to explain that after the Civil Rights Movement, our country defined racism as something that was individual, conscious, and intentional. As a result, today, many white people view racism as acts like those of the KKK, and thus a blow to one’s moral character.

This experience, DiAngelo explains, can be felt as moral trauma.

DiAngelo asserts that this fear of being seen as racist – according to the old definition – throws white people into defense mode and can prevent us from being able to see how in any way, we might be perpetuating racism, even if unknowingly.

In effect, this outdated view of racism – the one that many Americans still go by – functions to protect the system of racism, because by making it binary, we are unwilling to look at our part in it: either you are racist (and you are bad) or you aren’t (and you are good).

The new racism asks us to look at it as something we all experience. In theory, this fact makes the experience of racism within us irrelevant to the nature of our character.

DiAngelo, a white woman, suggests that all white people are racist and even calls herself out directly. She states: “As a result of being born in this culture, I have a racist world view. I have deep racist biases. I have developed racist patterns and I have investments in a system that has served me very well and is comfortable for me.”

DiAngelo welcomes being called out when her racism may (unbeknownst to her) be at play. She likens this experience to coming out of the bathroom without knowing that her skirt is tucked into her pantyhose – “wouldn’t you want to know?” she asks.

The problem is, many of us white people don’t want to know. And not because we’re not good people. It is instead because the mere suggestion that we are racist is such a scary and uncomfortable blow to our identity, we are often incapable of going there.

According to DiAngelo, this new racism – aversive racism – is particularly hard for white people to spot because of its subtle and insidious nature. She explains it is under the surface of consciousness because it conflicts with many people’s consciously held beliefs of racial equality and justice.

Intellectually, I was beginning to understand DiAngelo’s work, but I was still super uncomfortable. I knew I didn’t see one race as superior over the other. I knew I had privilege. I knew I had bias I often wasn’t aware of. I understood oppression. I was now again willing to do the dirty work, get off my butt (and back into advocacy mode), and educate myself.

But I still couldn’t stop getting triggered and resisting being called racist. Deep down, all I could think was: but I am a good person.

This discomfort remained until I finally experienced an aha moment while listening to Brown and Channing Brown.

“You know what’s true?” Brown says. “I am a good person, and I have a lot of privilege and a lot of structural support for racism that I don’t even know exists inside of me. When I do something that makes clear my unacknowledged, unowned privilege, I feel two things at one time: one is shame and one is but I’m a good person.”

Brown explains that cognitive dissonance (holding two opposing beliefs) is one of the most physiologically and emotionally uncomfortable feelings we can experience: “Our body is wired to jump out of it as fast as we can,” she says.

Finally, I had a name for what I was experiencing. I felt crippling shame every time I was called racist because in my mind, it meant that I was a bad person. This experience of cognitive dissonance resulted in uncomfortable feelings that made me want to deny what was real and run from it all.

I now could see that as long as I associated being racist with being bad, I was going to get triggered, I was going to feel stuck, and as a result, I’d be perpetuating the very thing I was terrified of being a part of in the first place.

In order to move forward and be productive in fighting racism, I had to embrace the both/and.

If I could accept that I am a good person and there are ways in which my beliefs and actions are compliant with racism that I often don’t even realize, I could begin to take a hard look at those beliefs, actions, and ways of being in order to dismantle them.

With the both/and option, I could finally let go of needing to be “not racist” in order to embrace the real work of antiracism.

After days of digging in and educating myself, I felt a major shift. My character was no longer in question. I stopped feeling defensive. If I felt triggered, I could now move through it much more quickly and with ease.

Additionally, I had a new sense of energy to continue exploring how I could contribute to the #blacklivesmatter movement and then take whatever action that might be – indefinitely.

At the end of the day, I realized that I no longer had to prove that I was good anymore, because I now saw that being “good” with regard to racism simply meant continuously acknowledging my part and actively working to fight against it.

Despite my understanding that I am a good person – regardless of how I might experience racism – Channing Brown suggests that I don’t stop here.

“Good people can also be better,” she says. “The work of antiracism work is about becoming a better human to other humans.”

While it feels like I’m only just now getting started with this work and have a long way to go, I do know one thing for sure: I am ready to be a better human to other humans. Are you?

For more information on fighting racism and what you can do, education is always a great next step. Seeking out new views, opinions, specific calls to action, and the work of experts can be particularly useful.

If you are struggling with difficult emotions, feeling stuck, and/or are unable to move through feeling triggered with regard to racism, seeking the help of a mental health professional can also be a helpful next step.

Below are some of the resources that I have found to be educational and useful:

Articles:

I, Racist (John Metta)

The Fight to Redefine Racism (Kelefa Sanneh)

What it Really Means to Be an Anti-Racist, and Why it’s Not the Same as Being an Ally (Hillary Hoffower)

Academic Robin DiAngelo: ‘We Have to Stop Thinking About Racism as Someone Who Says the N-Word’ (Nosheen Iqbal)

Dear White Friends (Elyse Cizek)

White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack (Peggy McIntosh)

Videos:

White Fragility (Dr. Robin DiAngelo)

White Fragility and Whiteness as a Trauma Response (The Phillipe Matthews Show with Dr. Robin DiAngelo, Dr. Jacqueline Battalora, and Remaa Menakem)

Let’s Talk About Race (the Tutu Teacher reads/discusses race with her kindergarten class)