And, in the United States, being white carries significance. Whiteness, a construct designed to establish and maintain racial differentiation and inequity, affects me. I find myself both trying to be in solidarity with people of color and complicit in what upholds their oppression. All because some white men in the past determined that people should be categorized and evaluated based on skin color, and that having pale skin was superior.
This isn’t to say that I’m racist. Acknowledging my race, the race of others, and the different ways we’re affected by racialization doesn’t equate to being a racist. By acknowledging that I’m white, I’m recognizing a part of my social identity and asking what this means in my daily life.
All of this may seem obvious, but I was taught the opposite. I was taught that we shouldn’t talk about race because we shouldn’t see race — only people who are interested in being racist or prejudiced see race. I was also taught that skin color doesn’t make a difference in our lives, and that we’re all equal.
Even today, some white people ask me why I keep talking about race. They tell me that I’m making race more important than it is. The problem is that this isn’t true. Skin color impacts all of us in the US, and I need to pay attention to it.
I dislike the notion that whiteness has shaped and continues to have an influence on me. I have a reason for wanting to overlook the influence of race in my life — historically, white people haven’t been the best neighbors, truth-tellers, or holders of power. We’ve caused harm, created entire social systems and cultures that benefit us, and directly disadvantage others. Nonetheless, the truth remains that whiteness has affected me and continues to do so.
This is why, even though I have wonderfully diverse relationships, community, and multi-hued loved ones, it doesn’t mean I’m completely free. My relationships with people of color don’t eliminate the influence of whiteness on me. Nor does it rid any of us of the power and meaning that skin color holds.
In my journey with race, I’ve come to realize the danger of a single story. It narrows our definitions and constrains us. It can keep us stuck with a single view and playing a limited role. I’ve struggled with having a singular story about whiteness.
I believe one reason for this is that the white people around me never discussed their race or what it meant to be white. My limited exposure to differing types of white individuals resulted in my hearing about how only openly racist white people discussed their whiteness. Talking about white skin meant we were celebrating it. This led me to create a simplistic narrative that said recognizing or discussing my own skin color was negative. In this narrative, admitting to being white was synonymous with admitting to being bad. In this story, whiteness and badness were inseparable.
I’m only now realizing that I can acknowledge my lightly-hued skin and the privileges it affords me, while also resisting the implications of whiteness and the social imbalance it perpetuates in my country. I strive to promote goodness and equity in our world, even though I’m bound up with whiteness. I work towards antiracism, yet I still unintentionally do or say things that support racial hierarchy. I reject the falsehood of white superiority, while confronting the ways in which I’ve been deceived by it. I aim to seek racial healing, even as I perpetuate harm when I embody white dominance.
My story hasn’t played out in only one way. Paying attention to whiteness is the only way I can do anything about racial imbalance and the ways I’ve learned to contribute to it. Looking at race, helps me be different from what I’ve always been and think differently than what I’ve always thought.
I need to consider this possibility for other white folk as well. A crucial part of my limited story about race was that I was a white person from the Northern US. I repeatedly told — and heard other white people tell and retell — a story about how we were different from those white people in the South. I defined my whiteness in comparison to the negative whiteness of other white people.
This one story, about being either a good or bad white person, didn’t help me live out my values or address racial inequity. It didn’t dismantle the racial hierarchy. Instead, it contributed to the hierarchy by reinforcing a false sense of superiority, much like white supremacy. I felt superior because I could point to someone whom I deemed inferior.
However, I can’t define my fellow white people in such limited terms and hope for change. Such an approach hinders opportunities for who and how we can be. It’s crucial to recognize that just as whiteness and white dominance harm people of color, the lies also harm white people.
What I learned from whiteness, separated me from other white people and taught me to define fellow humans as other and inferior. As a group, I’ve witnessed these lies stunt white folks ability to care for one another. Perhaps, like me, you don’t have a template for how to be white, in community with other white people, and not perpetuate whiteness. Only now am I learning how to do this.
Here’s a big way I’m influenced by whiteness and something I have to attend to regularly — whiteness convinces me that it’s fine for me to walk away from and ignore race. I have a sense that if things get busy or I’m overwhelmed, then I can put race and racism aside and not focus on it. But, for the people of color that I’ve asked, the black and brown people that I love, this is not an option. And I don’t think it’s an option for us, white folk, either.
I don’t know what your struggle and project might be regarding race, but for me, today, I’m working to change my mindset and my story. I can’t only be concerned with ending racism and undoing whiteness when I feel like it. It’s an everyday, every moment sort of work — because moments are what make up my story. It can be tiring and frustrating, as is often the case when learning new things. Rest is essential, but similar to other important parts of my life and identity, resting cannot mean the work is optional.
Because even as I do the work, it’s not yet done and in the midst of this project, I’m still white. And, in the United States, that continues to mean something. Every day and every moment whiteness is with me, and so is the need to pay attention to race.
Comentarios