When it comes to anti-Black racism, not everyone gets it
As Black Lives Matter protests galvanize the world and calls for defunding police reach a shimmering crescendo, there’s a growing sense that well-meaning white people need to be educated on how to behave in an appropriately nonracist fashion.
What should we think? How should we act? What should we do?
The logical place to turn, traditionally, is to the Black community, who it is assumed, will be thrilled to spend time explaining the harsh reality of their lives to complacent, clued out white people.
But as has been pointed out repeatedly, they’re busy on the front lines, traumatized by images of George Floyd’s slow suffocation at the hands of Minneapolis police, while the silent white majority twigs to the fact the happy ending in “Driving Miss Daisy” didn’t carry over into real life.
With this in mind, today’s panel assembles three local experts — two white, one biracial — to talk about the nature of white privilege and why denial, overapologizing and supportive hashtags from your living room couch do nothing to move the needle on race relations.
Jen Vasic is a Waterloo city councillor, social worker and PhD candidate at Wilfrid Laurier University, where she’s studying the connection between poverty and education.
Shannon Dea is a University of Waterloo philosophy prof who teaches gender and social justice.
Arlene Mahood is a retired educator, communications consultant and selfdescribed “Oreo cookie,” born to a biracial mother and described by friends as “the whitest Black person they’ve ever met.” This is what I hear from people who don’t understand anti-Black racism: “Black Lives Matter? This is an outrage. ALL lives matter!” Dea: There’s that cartoon, right, of a house on fire and a guy yelling for help, and a neighbour dousing another house — one that’s not on fire — with water instead. He’s saying “All houses matter!”
Like, sure. All lives matter. But it makes sense to do triage and focus on urgent issues. “Black Lives Matter” directs our attention to Black lives in the same way that we should douse the burning house — not all houses — with water.
Vasic: Of course all lives matter. The phrase Black Lives Matter brings attention to the fact that for a long time Black lives haven’t mattered as much. More investment goes into predominantly white neighbourhoods. Black kids are more likely to be streamed into less academic high school classes and experience police brutality. Saying “All Lives Matter” puts the attention on white people and our feelings when the task at hand is to shift the focus toward a world in which Black people matter, too.
Mahood: Pontificating on “All Lives Matter” gives what I hope is a vocal minority a sense of righteous indignation. “We do nothing for all people!” To admit there’s a systemic and very different set of norms for the non-white population requires a level of self-examination few seem willing to undertake.
American activist Peggy McIntosh compares white privilege to “an invisible weightless knapsack of special provisions, maps, passports, codebooks, visas, clothes, tools and blank cheques” that racialized communities don’t have access to. How does this definition work for you?
Vasic: I come from a family of immigrants. They came to this country with little in the way of money and built a life for themselves in which it’s possible for me to live a comfortably middle-class life. Still, I didn’t have the professional networks some of my peers have and often feel like an impostor in professional situations because of my workingclass background. But I’m doing pretty well. I finished university, got a job, bought a house. And now I’m a city councillor and working toward my PhD. Surely, if I can do it, anyone can, if they put in the hard work. A common belief. Vasic: And wildly untrue. A big part of my success is because of my skin colour. Before anyone even gets to know me I’m wearing that invisible backpack and given that benefit of the doubt. This is a privilege that affords me so many opportunities that aren’t afforded to Black people right from the get go.
Dea: It can be more helpful to think about lacking privilege as a kind of friction. That friction might not flat out prevent a person from succeeding, but it makes it harder. White people, whether individually successful or not, aren’t constantly experiencing friction because of their race.
Mahood: As a born and bred Canadian of colour — what the hell is the politically
correct moniker these days? — I’m not part of a marginalized community; I’m part of the Canadian middle class and expect the same rights and privileges. For me, white privilege is a double standard with rules that defy logic but must be adhered to without question. We fit in as long as we accept that we’re not as deserving as our white peers. “Undeserved promotions. Preferential treatment in stores. NOT fearing for your life in interactions with police. Discovering in the past three weeks that anti-Black racism exists” — all have been cited as examples of white privilege. Dea: For me, the most basic white privilege is not having to notice these privileges, not having to think about how people are treating me because of my race. When people say, “I don’t see race,” that’s huge evidence of privilege. Black and brown folks never get to not see race. Arlene, you live this every day. How does it feel when people triumphantly tell you they’re “colour blind.”
Mahood: They seem stumped when I ask how they’d describe me to a stranger looking for me at a conference. “Well, I’d say you were a petite woman and maybe I’d say you wear glasses.”
“Assuming there are hundreds of women wearing glasses,” I respond, “how else would you describe me?”
Only one friend was honest enough to say: “She’ll be the mouthy little Black woman who bounces into the room.” You prefer blunt honesty. Mahood: If they don’t see my colour, they don’t see me as a person. Are we
trying to render differences invisible? This level of privilege boggles my mind.
“I can’t breathe!” and “We demand haircuts!” are opposing placards that illustrate the difference between white demonstrators at COVID lockdown rallies and those protesting George Floyd’s slow death in police custody. How does white privilege play into this?
Dea: Black folks don’t have the luxury of haircuts being their big political issue. But to be clear, the murder of George Floyd isn’t a white privilege thing. It’s not a “privilege” not to be murdered by police. That was straight-up violent racism — nothing as subtle as privilege.
Vasic: This is about centring our own wants and luxuries ahead of Black lives. It’s the difference between “All Lives Matter” — “I want a haircut” — and Black Lives Matter — “I just want to live.” There are well-intentioned white people who either have no idea what white privilege is, strenuously deny its existence or are overly apologetic in a truly cringeworthy way. Why is this concept so difficult? Vasic: By acknowledging racism it’s like we’re telling the world we’re bad people. And don’t we all want people to see us as good? Mahood: Maybe it’s not the concept that’s difficult, but the dialogue we’re going to have. A few years ago, I was asked to leave an event because I made some of the women nervous. I was mortified and stunned thinking I’d done something unintentional and insisted on finding out why. I leaned hard into that discomfort to be told it’s because I’m Black. They were comfortable telling you that? Mahood: Not one of the other
people stay. There’s in the group little incentive asked me to to change continues. this behaviour, If we change, so the cycle it may our tribe. set us apart from the rest of responses Please refute to calls these for common racial accountability: “White privilege? That’s a laugh. I earned every dollar I ever made!” Mahood: Are you confabulating privilege with socioeconomic status? I’ve worked for every dollar I made, often twice as hard as many white colleagues. Help me understand what your earnings have to do with marginalizing people of colour? “Should I feel guilty for being born white!” Mahood: Are you asking for some kind of absolution here? Should I feel guilty for being born with mixed blood? “I can’t be racist. I have a Black friend.” Dea: I try to focus on systemwide issues. If the whole system is organized around racism and White supremacy, then all the nice nonracists in the world aren’t enough to make a difference. You have to change the system. “But we already have one Black employee!” Mahood: I was that Black employee, and my manager thought it was cute to show me the insulting Black garden ornaments she called Little Black Sambo welcoming us at their front door. I had to Google that one. “I feel so guilty about my white privilege!”
Dea: I think people find it really hard to think about responsibility apart from personal blame and guilt. That feeling of being “accused” can make people aggressively push back or really apologetic.
Mahood: Actions speak louder than words. What are you doing about it? In recent weeks, local politicians have engendered the wrath of the Black community by offering consultation
and dialogue in place of actual change. What’s the disconnect? Vasic: For centuries society has told us that Black people are less capable, lazy and more threatening. As a result, we’ve become used to treating them that way. Racial missteps and anti-Black racism have become habits and habits — especially ones that have a long history — are hard to break.
Dea: Black and brown folks have been dealing with racism for years and repeatedly demanding support. So an offer of consultation and dialogue feels way too slow — too little, too late. But political leaders are just now orienting themselves to the issues and feel very strongly the need to better understand before acting. It’s unsurprising that Black and brown folks see this as unacceptable stalling, but also understandable that politicians want to better understand the terrain before committing to specific actions. I don’t know what the solution is. Less talk, more action?
Dea: Maybe we need to declare a state of emergency. When COVID-19 landed, we didn’t say “we need to strike a task force.” It was all hands on deck right away. As MPP Laura Mae Lindo so powerfully pointed out, racism is a public health crisis, just as the pandemic is. It needs all hands on deck.
Many white people feel supportive hashtags and tears of sympathy are the best way to prove “allyship” with racialized minorities, without actually getting off their butts. What would be more effective, substantive ways to make a difference?
Dea: I always think in terms of material support. That means, if you can afford it, send money to Black-, brown- and Indigenousled groups and agencies leading this work. If it’s safe for you to do so, put your white body between Black folks and cops at protests. Be there to bear witness. Support Black, brown and Indigenous
scholars, artists and businesses by buying their books, artworks and products. Promote them to other folks on your networks. In meetings, boost the signal of racialized folks when they speak up. Centre on them and make sure they get the credit. Take the time to read, watch and listen to stuff written and produced by racialized folks. Learn about racism from the Black and brown experts. Be humble, be patient. Let Black and brown folks take the lead rather than making all of this about you.
Vasic: Speak up: When you’re part of conversations and it seems like something racist is going on, speak to it directly and ask questions. When you see someone asking a Black person to provide resources, step in with the information you have. Write to people in positions of influence to ask what they’re doing to address anti-Black racism. If you’re in a position to hire people to do anti-racism training, hire Black people who are doing that work. For a lot of white people, this is new territory. We all make mistakes. What should a real apology look like? Dea: A real apology expresses remorse for what the apologizer did, not just concern for how others were affected. You need to say “I am sorry I did X. I was wrong,” not “I’m sorry this affected you negatively.” That should be followed with a description of what you’re going to do to make it better.
Vasic: Saying sorry, correcting the thing you did to demonstrate you’ve learned from that mistake, and resist the urge to justify. Mahood: I ask without rancour, what apologies? A real apology would help me see that s/he learned something from the encounter. An acknowledgement of the offending behaviour would be a bonus.