CLGS

Five years ago, an African American student at the seminary I was
attending spoke her mind and I was fortunate enough to be there when she did. "I have been waiting for the day when white folks start to deal with their own racism." Her words—spoken in a room full of students, faculty, staff, and seminary board members—still have the power to remind me of my position and responsibility when it comes to racial matters.

Because she was talking about racism among white people at the seminary, her words unsettled me. She was not talking about "racism out there" (Proposition 187 in California, police brutality against African American or Latino men, or the wiping out of affirmative action programs at the University of California). She was talking about racism among whites at our seminary. Suddenly, I was implicated in a form of oppression with which I had never before identified.

Since then, I have worked hard to see myself as always white and therefore privileged. While I have come to understand a little more of what it means to be white in this country, the depth of my ignorance on racism means I have barely started the task of addressing my own racial identity. I still slip, trip, and sometimes take a wrong turn in addressing my own privilege. I am also glad I am on the road at all.

Naming Race Privilege

Race privilege refers to a range of advantages people receive because of skin color. In the U.S. it often works according to a "ranking" of persons from darker skin (less privilege) to lighter skin (more privilege). Race privilege also supports race-based stereotypes (for example, the idea that most Asian Americans were not born in the United States). White people routinely benefit from race privilege.

A friend's frustration with racism marks my white privilege: "You know, I went into that same bookstore yesterday, and I noticed right away I was followed. He started immediately after I got in the door. Following me—up and down the stairs, back and forth through the aisles. All I wanted was a book! Why can't I do some shopping without being followed?" I immediately realize this is the first time I have even slightly felt the absence of an employee following me. "You know," my African American friend continues, "it doesn't matter where we are, how we're dressed, what we're doing—you white folks assume we're thieves. I am tired."

Peggy McIntosh, in an article linking male privilege and white privilege, lists twenty-six "daily effects of white privilege" in her life. Those of us who are white can look at the TV or newspaper and see people of our race "widely represented." We can be fairly certain our skin color will not mark us as a financial risk when using checks, credit cards, or cash. We "can take a job with an affirmative action employer without having co-workers on the job suspect that [we] got it because of race." We can also swear or dress sloppily without having people attribute this behavior to our race. We are never expected to speak for "all the people of [our] racial group."1

Race privilege: a range of unearned advantages people receive because of skin color.
To understand my own privilege, I have had to realize that I am always "raced." The fact that (white) employees do not follow my (white) body at a local bookstore is an example of race privilege. Although I am often quick to assume that race is a factor only in the presence of people of African, Asian, Latin, or Native American descent, race can be an issue among groups of white people (for example when I am not followed by white employees at a bookstore). Racial issues are present regardless of the race of the people in that situation. As a white person, I am concerned first of all with white peoples' participation in race matters.

Historically and currently in the United States, whiteness has been considered the norm. It needs no explanation or defense. In contrast to my Latin American friend (who rarely finds Latin American authors on reading lists), I have never had to search the syllabus for white authors. I am not slotted into categories such as "model minority" (a common stereotype applied to Asian Americans), or "thief" (as my African American friend was). As a person committed to anti-racism, I want to unlearn ways of living that perpetuate my white privilege and leave no space for the well-being and wholeness of people of African, Asian, Latin, and Native American descent.

Making Connections with Heterosexism

Racism and heterosexism are connected; but the two are never the same. Understanding heterosexism may serve as a window into understanding racism, but never a mirror.

While white people rarely have to consider the privilege of our whiteness, most heterosexuals spend little time reflecting on the benefits they receive because they are heterosexual. Racism forces people of African, Asian, Latin, and Native American descent to explain their values and choices against white "norms." Heterosexism ensures that straight people rarely have to explain, defend, or justify their existence in ways that les/bi/gay and transgendered people do on a daily basis. Despite most forms and applications, my gay friend in a long-term relationship is neither "married" nor "single"; my mixed-race friend is neither only "Hispanic American" nor only "Caucasian."

Responding Out of White Privilege

Unraveling our racial privilege often
surfaces feelings of guilt or blame. If I had responded, "It's not my fault the employee followed you" my friend might not have been surprised. However, she and other people of African, Asian, Latin, and Native American descent I know have no use for such pleas of innocence. Further, it is not my friend's responsibility to help me process my ambivalence about the situation. I listened to what she had to say and I am still realizing the lessons of not being followed. I am slowly learning to listen to my friends' stories about racism without becoming defensive.

Absolving my guilt ("I'm not racist!") or removing myself from blame ("You can't put all that history on my shoulders. . .") was often my initial (if unspoken) response in discussions about racism. Such reactions miss the point. I am convinced that growing up and living with race privilege ensures my participation in racism. Moving beyond blame and guilt means I take seriously the significance of my socialization as a white person.

Understanding the social significance of living as a white person leads me to a serious concern with racism and a commitment to work against it. Racism always hurts. It leaves emotional and physical scars. It has caused and continues to cause immeasurable amounts of pain. And it always affects bodies and relationships. I hope that churches committed to addressing heterosexism can express (or already are expressing!) a similar concern for racism. Both kinds of work seek more just ways of living and relating—and more informed and compassionate choices. Unlearning racism and heterosexism are tasks that can benefit from and support each other.

I work on being anti-racist because I am interested in my own well-being. I do not want my racism to visit my friendships. Recognizing the regularity of white privilege reminds me of my potential for racism. I am wary of my own capacity for racist behavior and concerned with the race dynamics in my relationships. When my racism does spill into my friendships, I want to notice it, question its presence, and consider how I might act differently.

Anti-racism work—the most appropriate response to unraveling one's white privilege—is about changing our minds. It is also about feeling the assault on our own dignity each time we observe or experience white privilege and turn our backs on its destruction. I am concerned with everyday racism—the fact that I am not followed in a bookstore—because I have learned it affects my friends. I have begun to see the profound difference it makes going through life white, or black, or brown. I also see the connections between my everyday privilege and institutional racism. How can that person who followed my friend in the bookstore separate his rationale for following her from any input he might have in hiring an African-American? The racism that hurts my friends routinely gives me advantages—and I am dis-eased with that contradiction.

Overcoming White Privilege

Anti-racism work requires much effort and commitment. It is always risky. The predicament of our privilege is intricate and evasive. I often find the following guidelines (in box) helpful in confronting white privilege in myself and others. These guidelines are meant especially, but not exclusively, for white people. It is often people of African, Asian, Latin, and Native American descent who have brought them to my attention.

Dealing with my own racism has never been easy. The racism I continue to disregard regularly visits my friends. The stories I hear remind me of my mind and body ignorance on matters racial. In addressing my privilege, I often trip on my ignorance and silence with my arrogance. But five years after hearing the words of an African American woman, I also say with a sense of urgency: "It is time for white folks to deal with our privilege."

Anti-Racism Guidelines

1. Do not assume race awareness. Society has not socialized and educated white people to recognize racism. It has trained us to not notice or understand our own race privilege.

2. White people need to "do our homework" before we assume the nearest person of Asian, African, Latin, and Native American descent has time to educate us. We can learn from the increasing number of books, videos, and literature addressing race privilege, racism, and the realities of people of African, Asian, Latin, and Native American descent.

3. Do not expect to receive "Racism 101" over one cup of coffee or one education hour. White people will not hear stories about race privilege "on demand," or only at our convenience. We may hear stories about racism from people of Asian, African, Latin, or Native American descent after we have risked sharing our race ignorance and risked publicly noticing the white privilege present in our local contexts.

4. Do not fold racism into non-racial oppression. Race privilege is never exactly the same as privilege based on gender or sexuality. (Saying "I know exactly what you mean" to a Latin American man's story about racism—and proceeding to tell him your experience as a lesbian—will most likely cut off any discussion of racism.)

5. Expect hard work. Commenting, "I feel so bad about all the racism at church headquarters" is nice, but working to change it is better. For example, setting aside funds for anti-racism training for your own church council, or setting up a study group on local race issues, would be a start to addressing race privilege.

6. Do not expect people of African, Asian, Latin, or Native American descent to celebrate your discovery of white privilege. White people addressing race privilege may be rare, but it is never an heroic act.

—Jennifer Simpson

Notes

1. Peggy McIntosh, "White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack," Peace and Freedom (July/August 1989), pp. 10-12.

About the author

Jennifer Simpson, a Ph.D. student in social ethics and cultural studies at Garrett-Evangelical Theological Seminary and Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois, is affiliated with the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America.