I wouldn’t call myself a racist. I don’t think anyone would.
But not being a racist and not contributing to the existence of racism in this country are two different things.
And I didn’t get this until about three days ago.
Up until three days ago I believed that because I was a nice person, because I am accepting of all colors and genders and sizes and lifestyles, because I teach my kids tolerance and acceptance and empathy and not to judge, that I was doing enough.
Now I know better.
I know better because in the last week I’ve seen lots of posts on Facebook that have been either light taps or full on smacks in the face.
I usually stay away from super divisive stuff here. I don’t really talk about politics or hot button issues.
But this past Monday I decided it was time to say something.
This past Monday it became clear to me that I couldn’t stay silent.
This past Monday I realized that not being a racist isn’t enough.
So I wrote a post on the Not Your Average Mom Facebook page.
What I still didn’t realize before I wrote that post is how ignorant I am.
What I still didn’t realize before I wrote that post is how this ignorance has perpetuated the racism issues black people continue to face daily here in the United States.
In my Facebook post, I acknowledged that I’m a very white woman who grew up in an upper class town in Fairfield County, Connecticut.
As white as it gets.
I acknowledged I will never face the struggles black people face.
I acknowledged I will never be able to understand because I will never live it.
I was doing really well in that post.
Until I asked for black women to help me learn.
That was my first ignorant move of the day.
More than one person pointed this out to me.
Two of them were black.
They both let me know in slightly different ways that asking black women to teach you how to stop oppressing them is kind of a shitty thing to do.
They didn’t say shitty.
I added that in myself.
So then I made ignorant decision #2.
Instead of sitting in discomfort and allowing the words these two women had shared with me sink in and resonate, I fired back immediately in my own defense.
But what I really meant was…
The only reason I said that was…
After I had posted two comments detailing how I had in fact, not done anything wrong, then I felt the desperation in my replies.
So THEN I made ignorant decision #3!
I was on a roll with the fucking ignorance!
I deleted the post.
Again, my intentions were pure.
They were riddled with ignorance again, but they were pure.
It doesn’t matter if they were pure, though.
I removed the post because I didn’t want to be hurtful and insensitive to more people than I already had been.
But by removing that post, I also removed the voices of the women who had made me aware of how hurtful my words were.
And what they are faced with over and over and over again.
Even if that wasn’t my intention.
It doesn’t matter that my intentions were pure, and it doesn’t matter that I didn’t know any better.
This is where many of — I’ll go as far to say most of — us white women go wrong.
Here is why I didn’t know what to say.
It’s not because I’m white and I haven’t had blatant racism show up repeatedly in my life.
It’s because I’ve used ignorance as an excuse.
I haven’t said anything because I didn’t know what to say isn’t saying I’m standing with you silently.
It’s saying, it’s not a priority for me.
It’s not worth my time.
It’s not worth my discomfort.
You are not a priority for me.
You are not worth my time.
You are not worth my discomfort.
One of the women who originally commented on my post contacted me after seeing I had deleted my post.
Over the course of two days, she has taught me a lot.
A LOT.
I told her how confused I was. How I felt like I just kept fucking up.
And here is (part of) what she said (published with her permission).
Yes, it is very confusing. Admitting, acknowledging and recognizing your privilege is helpful. It is helpful to others to see it in you and possibly in themselves. What is hurtful and insensitive is then asking those who are being oppressed/discriminated against, whatever you want to call it, to figure out a way to stop it. It is incumbent on those doing the oppressing and discriminating to stop themselves and those who are benefitting from the oppression and discrimination to recognize it and call it out and stop it. I know it feels like everything you do is wrong. That’s how black people feel when we try to protest or point out injustices. We can’t protest by taking an knee because it’s disrespectful, we can’t protest by wearing clothing during professional sports games that depicts racist actions because that’s against the rules and fines are levied. We can’t protest by speaking out at award shows because its too political and networks cut the feed and go to commercial. We can’t protest during a production of Hamilton where the VP is in attendance because he just wants to enjoy the show.”
Let’s put it this way.
Imagine your daughter is getting bullied at school by three girls. And those three girls have five friends who sit with them at lunch.
So there are eight girls altogether sitting at a lunch table.
And for the entire school year, those three girls relentlessly make your daughter’s life a living hell.
The other five girls are not okay with the bullying, and they don’t actively join in, but they also don’t come to your daughter’s defense.
They just sit in silence.
A couple times a year, the school holds an anti-bullying assembly. The principal gets up on stage and asks all the kids in the audience who are against bullying to stand up and hold a sign that says Bullying Is Bullshit.
(Okay, so those probably aren’t the words the principal would use, but you know what I mean).
Those five girls stand up, proudly holding their Bullying is Bullshit posters, convinced they are taking action.
One day when the three mean girls are particularly agitated, they beat the living shit out of your daughter.
The other five girls finally see the light. They can’t stand by anymore and let this happen to your daughter.
They run and get their Bullying is Bullshit posters and walk through the hallways with them.
And then, the next day, they send your daughter who is sitting in a hospital bed, a text. And they say, “Please teach us how to not contribute to the bullying issues you’ve been dealing with this year. We want to learn.”
Yikes.
The responsibility of learning what to do differently doesn’t fall on the shoulders of the oppressed.
And that’s what so many of us have done and are doing.
We are asking the victims to teach us how to do better, rather than figuring that shit out ourselves.
This was not a fun realization for me to come to.
Saying “I haven’t said anything because I didn’t know what to say” is not a justification for being silent.
It’s a cop out.
A more accurate statement would be “I haven’t said anything because I have chosen not to educate myself about what the reality — and history — is for people of color.”
We use ignorance as a justification for staying out of it.
It feels REALLY shitty to have this awareness.
It feels really shitty to know you’ve been contributing — whether you were aware of it or not — to the systemic oppression of millions of people.
It feels really shitty to realize that while you thought you were a good example of what anti-racism is, you have in fact, for all of your life, been a part of racism.
That’s uncomfortable.
People don’t like discomfort.
You can use the discomfort as a justification to bury your head in the sand.
Or you lean into it.
I shared this the other day on my personal Facebook page:
You know what doesn’t feel shitty?
Knowing you are putting in the work. Knowing you are growing. Knowing you changing. Knowing you are now a part of the solution rather than a part of the problem.
You know how you learn what to say?
Start by listening.
Listen without coming to your own defense.
Resist the urge to convince people your words/silence/action/inaction are justifiable.
Listen and then sit with it.
Sit with the discomfort.
Sit with the shitty feelings.
Sit with the ick.
Then, lean into it.
And then, DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT.
It’s okay that you didn’t know.
It really is.
But now that you know, what isn’t okay is not making changes.
Posting an image with the words Black Lives Matter is a good first step.
But it’s not the only step.
Posting a black square with the hashtag #BlackOutTuesday is a great show of support.
But it really means nothing if, on Wednesday, you go back to business as usual.
The danger now is that as more and more distance gets between the world and George Floyd’s death, the intense emotion will begin to fade for so many people.
Remember how up in arms you were after the last school shooting?
When is the last time you actively did or said anything about that?
I bet for many of us it’s been a long time.
Don’t let that happen now.
Continue to take action.
Taking action happens in lots of different ways.
Listen.
Take ownership.
Educate yourself.
Read books.
Watch movies.
Arm yourself with information.
And make it your goal to never put yourself in the position to feel the need to say the words,
“I haven’t said anything,
because I don’t know what to say.”
Oh yeah. One more thing.
The woman who contacted me to help me understand what I was (and wasn’t) doing?
Well, I asked her if it would be okay to send her a friend request.
Her answer?
I do consider us friends now so please feel free to send the request, my new ally! 
And that’s what happens when you are able to stop reacting and start listening.
You don’t just learn about yourself.
You learn about other people.
And then you have transitioned from being a part of the problem to a part of the solution.
And if you are really lucky, you’ve made a new friend in the process.
Susie. I’ve peeked at your posts for years. My kids are older but you and I are a lot alike. We are the same age. I’m an outsider mom. I am white and come from a comfortable life. I am not racist. My kids are required to be decent and accepting humans foremost, or they will suffer the wrath of my ultimate dissapointment. I use the F word a lot and in front my my kids.
And this post… I wish I could drive my ass to Connecticut and give you a NOT socially distant hug, steal a quick dip in that pool of yours, and before leaving tell you that you are that voice of courage that often represents me. Keep up the outstanding work lady… I’m reading, may e more like trolling, and wanting to be a bit more like you all the time.
All my best,
Patti West
This is an amazing post. As a white woman who teaches in the field of bilingual/multicultural education, I thought I had things figured out. Until I realized I didn’t. One thing I learned from the book So You Want to Talk about Race is that impact is more important than intent. All my life I have been taught to presume positive intentions. The emphasis has always been on the person’s intent. But the thing is, when we are dealing with racism, impact is more important. In your insightful analogy about bullying, the intent of the five girls was certainly not to support bullying. But by not speaking out, the impact resulted in support of bullying.
Impact matters.
Thanks for sharing. I am going to send the link for this post to my colleagues who teach the m/c education classes. I think they would find it helpful to direct their students to read this blog.
Thank you for so thoughtfully and honestly sharing this. It’s a hard lesson to learn – especially for those of us white people who were convinced that we weren’t part of the problem. We cared and were trying to be part of the solution.
But until we learn that we can’t expect the oppressed under the heel of the boot of oppression to be the ones to remove that boot – we can’t truly do the work we need to, the work of dismantling the system of racism that white people have created over the centuries.
As Angela Davis said, “In a racist society, it is not enough to be non-racist, we must be anti-racist.” And also, I like the words of Maya Angelou (which give me some reassurance we I flail around trying to improve myself: “When you know better, you do better.”
Thank you again for helping us all to do better!
I hear yall saying all this, but are you going to put it in to action.can we live in your neighborhood send our children to your schools to sit next to your children.can we get.the same level of medical care as you and your children. I think not, and why is that, because you have 5 dollars for our every 50 cents and we cant afford it and yall know that. Slavery has given all of you inherited wealth that was stolen from us, so we will never reach you. So talk ,talk ,talk cause that’s all you are doing stay safe in your homes and in your little enclaves of privilege and keep talking.until you more than your COMFORT on the line you are doing us no favors.so thanks but no thanks.
That’s where breaking the cycle of poverty begins. I worked for 8 years for a nonprofit offering after school & summer programs to inner city at-risk-youth. Knowledge is power and we started there. We sent many youth on to college providing them a 4-5 year education. We have to find a way as a community to change the past and build a brighter future for our at-risk population.
Thank you so much for this. This kind of personal reckoning is the only way change will happen, and I am so grateful to have models and guides for it.
I can do better.
I am starting to write that sentence now on postings that speak to me. I, too, am a privileged white woman that has lived in predominantly white towns for 65 years. I am a Christian and realize that though I thought of myself as non-racist, I surely am racist due to my naivety and inaction.
I can do better.
Thank you for this post.
What if I’ve always spoken up about the wrongness of racism? Growing up, my other mother was an African-American woman. She was also my best friend when I had no friends. When other kids called her the n word, I threw down. Nobody was going to talk like that about her around me.
When my abusive grandfather, the man who sexually abused me throughout my childhood, called her the n word, I again went ballistic. My parents believed me when I told them he said the n word, so they told him that in no uncertain terms the n word was forbidden in our home. Unfortunately, my parents didn’t believe me when I tried to tell them about him sexually abusing me. I tried to explain it the best I could, but being only 3 years old limited my ability.
And when my second mother died, a big chunk of me went with her.
As an adult, I forbade racism and the n word in my classroom. I had many discussions with my students to explain what was wrong with racism and the n word.
I’ve marched in protests against racism when I and my boyfriend were the only white people among hundreds.
I’ve NEVER stayed quiet about racism.
So here’s my question: Am I doing enough?
It is likely, that because you asked the question, you feel that you aren’t doing as much as you can. Nobody does. But you do more than most. Keep doing it, and when you can, doa little more. Be the example that inspires the person next to you to do better. Most people learn from experience and ignorance is replaced by it as well. Keep fighting the fight.
Thanks for your post. I can do better too. I’m starting to read and listen, my heart is changing, and I’m uncomfortable. I’m actually fearful in a strange way, fearful of losing some of my relationships. Fearful to stand up to those that are overtly racist. But I must do better because now I know better.
Wow, thank you
Thank you for this post! It is very thought provoking and inspiring.
I am not white. I am an Indian American woman. I too feel like I have lived an ignorant life. It makes me sick and brings tears to my eyes. I even dated a black guy for two years in high school. I still didn’t get it. Now I get it. We all need to stand in solidarity with our black brothers and sisters. What does that mean? We don’t just smile and say hi when we pass by. We join relevant organizations that were traditionally with only African American members. We stand beside them and fight for equality. It is not their fight. It is now OUR fight. LETS DO THIS!!
As an 80-year-old white woman who marched, held hands and sang WE SHALL OVERCOME; and lost a job and friends and almost my life; I’m humbled to know I didn’t do enough. I can NEVER stop learning about my racism. And, I’ll never be alone.
Thank you…
Thanks for sharing.
Oh, my gosh!!! It’s like you’re living my life! This is totally me!! Thank you for writing this, for stopping me from deleting my post….because I was about to. although I didn’t ask for my black friends to tell me how to help, but I did say I don’t know what to do. (I actually have few black people in my circle of friends, not by choice of course. I do have family that is black, and my niece let me have an earful, which ended lovingly, thankfully!)
Thank you for this eye opening, “you’re not alone” moment for me! I know I can be part of the solution. I never thought I was part of the problem, but now I see that I kind of am, until I decide to change that.
I can’t say “THANK YOU!!” enough!!
As a white woman who is in the habit of worrying if she’s done enough, I got punched in the gut this week, knowing I haven’t. Thank you for doing this hard work, being vulnerable and being brave enough to share it. I’m looking forward to reading more of your blog. (Your post was shared on a global quarantine knitting group on FB – a sweet group which has literally imploded over BLM.)
Wow, Susie. You get it. I co-sign all of what you have written – especially, sitting on the other side and having a lot of lovely, well-meaning, white friends like you. I grew up in CT, and now live less than 10 miles away from where Ahmaud Arbery was murdered. Honestly, these past, few weeks have been exhausting trying to help my white friends learn, as they reach out to me – often, because I am their only black friend. But, I have done it because I appreciate that they are trying. Thank you 💙
This was great, I am christian real change comes from knowing
Jesus. He promised us
the Holy Spirit, we need the Holy Spirit for real
change to take place.
We stand up and make
a stand for injustice.
Vote for leaders who righteous and not just be right.
Thanks for writing this. One thing that stood out for me here is your first sentence “I wouldn’t call myself a racist”. The truth is, we are pretty much all racist (white pp.) I highly recommend the book White Fragility, here are some excerpts from it: https://www.cnn.com/2020/06/07/health/white-fragility-robin-diangelo-wellness/index.html
A relevant excerpt:
So many white people are asking right now is what can I do? And so I’m going to give you five tasks. The first one is to remove this claim from your vocabulary: “I’m not racist.” If you are wondering why on earth, I would ask you to remove that claim then you have some education to do.
Thank you for this post. It resonates with me.
Well hello Susie! I really enjoyed the sincerity of your heartfelt post! I was merely searching the web to find a cute lil mom on a show called closet goals and your name kept coming up so I clicked on your blog and read this post first randomly! WOW—to put yourself out there like that….and to acknowledge the mistakes and triumphs of your journey to self discovery, enlightenment, and unity….WOW thank you! I’m here in VA listening to pounding rain and your post was like warm sunshine! I appreciate your perspective. I enjoyed reading your blog (and I appreciated your “new friend/ally’s” comments as well. We are all learning (black, brown, and white) and I’m sure with great women like you with open hearts…we can stand united one day appreciating the divine creations we are. (tsk tsk on the bad words but other than that A*–all star effort) Many blessings!