An Open Letter to White People
My brother and I sit in front of the cold glow of the television as America goes up in flames. It illuminates our white faces like projector canvas.
I was his age when Darren Wilson walked free after killing Michael Brown. I remember staring at riots on the same TV — the angry, grieving people of Ferguson robbed of justice while a young man had been robbed of his life. I was confused. The courts had made their decision, so what was the problem? I believed in the myth of criminal justice, specifically, the part that claims justice is inevitable.
At the age of 12, I was already racist. The reason I say “already” is because I still am.
I am unconsciously inclined to fill my social media feeds with faces that look like mine, prefer music from white mouths, and consume art made by white hands. I’ve appropriated culture. I’ve shopped at stores whose progressive branding is built upon slave labor. I perpetuate the idea that European features are beautiful while others are not. Worst of all, I’ve stayed silent at times I should’ve spoken up. I could go on and on, exhaust every possible way I can think of that I have been racist, and I would still be missing many.
It’s my job to learn what those missing pieces are. That is the only way I can fight them. As white people, we need to overcome the defense mechanism that makes the phrase “I’m not racist” jump to our throats. The one that encourages us to feel good about being “not racist” even though “not racist” requires no real action, it’s inherently an absence of action. The one that allows us to take a seat without first taking on the system.
We’ve been taught that racism is a characteristic that bad people have and good people do not have. We’ve been taught the system is broken, that it has been infiltrated by the bad people, and that if we purge them one by one we can fix it. But these are lies. There aren’t just racists in the system, the system is racist on its own, racist by design. If we focus on getting rid of the bad apples, our institutions will continue to hurt people of color (POC) while the rest of us sit down, satisfied with our “progress.” A tail squirming, body-less, while we rest, relieved the lizard was chased out.
The system isn’t broken, it is running as smoothly as it always has.
We are a nation built on violence against Black people and dependent on the labor of POC. We are a nation that continues to thrive at the expense of communities we have always devalued and othered, treated separate and unequal. Our history is defined by finding new excuses to torture, enslave, and kill Black people. By the same means we labeled them inhuman, we now label them criminals.
We must abolish the systems that execute the dehumanization of Black people.
Racism works two ways: it hurts people of color while it benefits white people. I benefit every day from the white supremacist state. This is something I am still learning to be aware of. This in and of itself is privilege; Black and brown people do not have the luxury to be ignorant of their oppression.
It helps me to recall the ways systemic injustice works against me. I can see clearly how all men benefit from and enforce patriarchy (even when they don’t mean to). It just takes a little extra work to educate myself about how I have been an oppressor as well. This isn’t to equate all types of oppression; my experiences of misogyny don’t mean I understand the experience of racism. However, it can clue me in as to where my blind spots are. Understanding how deep misogyny and heteronormativity run in the structures of our country comes easily to me, but I never needed to think about race in the same way. I now know what I don’t know.
With nothing to distract us, all stuck at home, the death of George Floyd was the final straw for many. We can’t stop here, though. There are people who lost their lives quietly to the system, whether they were murdered by police or became victims of COVID-19, whether they took their own lives or were too poor to get help for a treatable condition.
In a racist society it is not enough to be non-racist, we must be antiracist.
- Angela Davis
We don’t have to shed ourselves of every internalized and implicit racial bias in order to be antiracist. Antiracism actively works against the system that planted these biases inside us. It means doing this even when social media goes back to “normal.” It means doing this even when no one cares, when it is dangerous, when it is unpopular, when we are tired, and when we would benefit from doing nothing. Sometimes, it means speaking up. Sometimes, it means shutting up, listening to Black voices, and taking quiet action. It means learning which is which.
If we truly believe in justice, we will be in this for the long haul.
In front of the television, I see that this time, my brother understands. I wonder if this understanding is good or if it is terrible. But then I remember that it is a privilege to learn about racism, to “have” to learn about racism, instead of experiencing it.
It’s tempting to think of ourselves as the good guys. But there will always be someone “more racist” than us. They’re comforting themselves by blaming the people “more racist” than them. We didn’t choose to learn our biases, but it’s our responsibility to unlearn them. People of color also do not choose to experience racism. By refusing to recognize how we contribute to white supremacy, we are not only asking people of color to continue bearing the burden of racism, but we are asking them to be responsible for fixing it.
The journey forward may feel uncomfortable, but Black lives matter even when it is uncomfortable.