This is not the first time an unarmed, non-threatening, Black man was killed at the hands of White police officers, resulting in nationwide protests. It is the first time I learned about the 1921 Tulsa Race Massacre*, where the bustling predominantly Black neighborhood, known not only for its strong business district, but also the hospitals and schools, was nearly burned to the ground in less than 18 hours. The spark that ignited it all – a false accusation that a Black man assaulted a White woman. The police failed to curb the violence, but more than that, deputized other White men who added to the violence.
In the end the charges against the Black man were dismissed, but not before “Black Wall Street” was torched by a White mob. I’m just now learning about this piece of history. It makes me wonder – what other stories of racist White oppression have been conveniently buried? It is entirely possible I missed this in history class. I suspect the more likely story is the majority’s interest in painting a rosy picture of Americans lifting up the very people deemed only three-fifths of a person in an amendment to the Constitution I didn’t have a choice in what I was taught and while I can’t change the past, I do have a choice today. I have a choice as a parent in what we teach our daughter and I have a voice in demanding what our schools teach. And even bigger, I look forward to opening my mind and taking responsibility to expand beyond my current echo chamber, like intentionally seeking data and opinions that reflect alternatives, opposition, and new ways of thinking.
Ten days ago was not the first time I have posted a provocative article on social media. It was the first time a friend of nearly 20 years (and at least five years separating our last meaningful interaction) messaged me with concern over my post. Her message struck, in me, a fierce need to defend my position that “Yes, White people, it is time for us to do the work.” Pausing to take a breath allowed me to see an opening instead. It was an opportunity to seek understanding, an initial step in doing the work of fighting racism. Why now, when the deep inequities between Black and White students first came into awareness during college? I am embarrassed it has taken 20+ years to proactively speak out. Maybe it is because the posted article helped me to see: the work lies within me, within my fellow White people. It is our turn to speak up to fight racism – in ways big and small.
In this case, a gentle nudge from a friend created space for us to nudge each other. It offered an opening to share this eloquently, tenderly, written illustration of “White Privilege,” an article that may enrage a stalwart “color-blind” person. I was heartened to see this response: “Thank you, the article you sent could not be more perfect for me because it is told ‘gently’ without a ‘you are doing this wrong’.” Our open, curious exchange online turned into a phone call, which cascaded into conversations with other White friends, initiated by her. For this, I am grateful and recognized that it wouldn’t have been possible if I engaged righteously or defensively. As we move more to our own on-line echo chambers, these kinds of exchanges seem fleeting, in favor of downright dig-in-your-heels twitter brawls. How might we each be a little more gentle with ourselves and each other, seeking to understand without judgment? I can’t eliminate or erase past judgments, but conversation by conversation we can change the future.
This is not the first time I have considered myself an ally in the fight against racism. It is the first time I heard the term “anti-racist.” The difference is not subtle at all. Being an “anti-racist” means you are actively fighting against racism, rather than not acting racist. As I work to shift from non-racist to take a decisive stance, my definition and actions are likely to evolve. What follows are some initial thoughts. I used to think it was enough to be kind, not make racist statements, and to actively, even fiercely supporting Black students in the hiring process. Now, I see the importance of going beyond simply working within the system. My eyes are opening. The system – my organization – asked me to recruit “diverse candidates” and I did it without hesitation. I didn’t educate myself on much of anything, let alone what happens once hired, nor did I look at trends of separation or performance. I didn’t think twice about being a White woman teaching Black students how to write a resume that would speak to employers; but I did think twice about what it might look like to be a White woman overtly and frequently highlighting injustice (and not just when it’s trending).
Actually, thinking twice is not true. The reality is – I didn’t think about it at all, because I didn’t have to… again, I didn’t HAVE to
Silence was easy, but in being silent, I was complicit. Complicit in supporting a system that inflicts harm on some, while I (and others who look like me) continue to benefit. None of this was done with intent nor purpose. I wandered unknowingly collecting benefits bestowed upon me, simply because I am White.
It is time to change. Moving forward, I will be intentional with my voice, my advocacy, and my donation dollars. This will not be easy and I will make mistakes and say the wrong thing. And, I will learn, but that is not possible without first speaking up. Speaking up goes well beyond writing this article and showing up when racism is trending. It requires a shift in actions, and this article about performative allyship helped me see specific ways I can move beyond professing solidarity, and instead actively use my privilege to advocate. As I become aware of my privilege and experiment with new actions, I will inevitably err. With each mistake I will be reminded to look forward because I can not change the past. I can only change the future.
Unlike my friend above, some people likely took a different path with my post – unfriending, blocking, or otherwise erasing me from their feed. Some of you reading this might do the same. Each loss will be met with regret that we didn’t have the chance for dialogue. I will lament another lost opportunity for us to understand each other. Now, more than ever, we need to draw on our reserves of empathy, understanding and self-compassion. Seeking to understand does not imply agreement; instead, it offers the opportunity to reflect and wonder together. Our life experiences shape us and the stories we tell, but they don’t need to define us forever. I invite you to explore your own shaping, as I am doing here. What “first” might emerge out of your reflections?
Here are three specific ways I commit to non-performative allyship, taking my first steps into anti-racism in the months and years ahead.
- Actively Engaging in Anti-Racist Conversation: I commit to engage, trip over my words, offending without meaning to and learning to make amends, taking up one of many burdens thrust upon BIPOC. My goal is simple: gently entering conversations seeking to understand, as I wish to be understood.
- Educate myself. My partner, daughter, and I will begin by reading and discussing Stamped: Racism, Antiracism, and You by Jason Alexander and Ibram X. Kendi. A regret: ordering it from Amazon and not one of these Black owned bookstores. Next up, a selection from this curated list, or perhaps a recommendation you leave in the comments. Watching Just Mercy isn’t a first for me, but these titles will be.
- Cast a wider net. The next time I am asked for recommendations, whether it is for a book, a job opening, a speaker or a facilitator, I will actively include BIPOC in the opportunity. And next time I need a service, handyman, doctor, or lawyer I’ll cast my net wide and prioritize those that have been systematically excluded.
These are my commitments. What are you willing to commit?
*More of the story and facts of the 1921 Tulsa Race Massacre
Elise Foster is a leadership and executive coach with a deep passion for helping leaders uncover underlying, hidden barriers on the journey to becoming even more effective leaders.