"Why Do You Make Everything About Race?"

I remember standing in a crowded room, part of a mixed-race group, waiting for a guest speaker. The white person next to me asked if I knew who the speaker was. I pointed and said, “The tall white guy by the planter.”

Then came a question I hear more often than I’d like: “Why do you make everything about race?”

Photo by bridget bartos on Unsplash

For a moment, I froze. What? Was that a joke? Their expression made it clear — it wasn’t.

In that moment, I realized something: this wasn’t really about race. It felt like it was about whiteness. I was just trying to help.

It wasn’t the first time I’d been asked that question. In fact, it usually comes from other white people, not strangers. And over time, I’ve noticed a pattern in how it lands.

When someone I love asks me that, it feels different. It usually comes quietly — almost tired, sometimes frustrated, sometimes hurt. And because we care about each other, I want to answer honestly. Gently. Without defensiveness.

Here’s the truth I want to share: I’m not making everything about race. Everything is already about race.

I know that might sound dramatic, so let me explain. I don’t wake up each morning thinking, How can I bring race into every conversation today? I’m not searching for ways to point it out. Most of the time, I’m simply noticing what’s already there: the neighborhoods we live in, the schools our kids attend, who sits at leadership tables, the people we elect to lead us, whose stories are told, whose are ignored. Race is in our history, our wealth, who feels safe walking down the street, who gets the benefit of the doubt.

Pointing to it doesn’t create it. Naming it doesn’t mean I caused it. And noticing whiteness isn’t about blame — it’s about awareness.

When I talk about whiteness, I’m talking about me, about my story. The messages I absorbed without realizing it. The ways I was taught — subtly and overtly — to see white as normal, neutral, just “human.” One of the clearest lessons I learned growing up? Don’t talk about race. Especially don’t talk about being white.

Silence keeps whiteness unquestioned. It makes it feel natural. But it also keeps me stuck — searching for freedom and wholeness in a system I can’t fully understand or change if I stay silent.

Breaking that silence can feel uncomfortable. Maybe even disruptive. I get that. But not talking about race doesn’t make it disappear. It just protects the status quo — a system that advantages people like me while harming people I love. I don’t want to protect that. I don’t want to stay stuck.

These moments happen almost every day. Small crossroads. I can follow the same familiar script, being the version of myself the world expects, or I can pause, notice what’s happening, and step into something different.

So when it seems like I’m “making it about race,” what I’m really doing is refusing to pretend whiteness is irrelevant. I’m trying to understand how it shapes my perceptions, my reactions, my opportunities. I’m trying to take responsibility for the part I play in a racialized system I didn’t create but am absolutely influenced by.

This isn’t about shaming anyone. It’s about integrity. About showing up fully — not hiding the part of me that cares deeply about racial justice, not compartmentalizing it so things feel easier. If you love me, this is part of who you’re loving.

And here’s something else I’ve learned: we are always communicating about race. Even in silence.

Who we invite into our homes. Where we buy a home. What feels “safe.” Who we describe as “articulate” or “threatening.” What stories we pass to our kids. None of us can leave our skin color at home when we walk out the door. It follows us into job interviews, traffic stops, doctor’s offices, and parent-teacher conferences.

That’s not something I made up. It’s the social reality we inherited.

When I talk about race, I’m not narrowing the conversation. I’m widening it. I’m saying: let’s look at the whole picture. Let’s not pretend this powerful force isn’t shaping our lives.

You don’t have to talk about race the way I do. You don’t have to use the same language. You don’t have to feel ready.

But please understand this — I’m not making everything about race. I’m responding to a world where race already shapes almost everything. And I’m doing it because I want more honesty between us. More freedom. More alignment between what I believe and how I live.

I don’t expect it to feel easy. And I’m not willing to stop noticing.