The Worst Thing White Women Can Do is Freeze
This week’s blog post features a letter sent to me by a dear friend, reprinted with permission. The name has been changed to protect the privacy of the author.
June 6, 2020
Dear Lori,
This week I have witnessed an outpouring of support, dozens of emails, phone calls and texts every day. It's overwhelming and humbling all at once. I didn't and don't expect any personal check-ins from my friends and colleagues, though the sentiment is appreciated. However, some acquaintances are conflating the opportunity to "check-in" with a free therapy or an anti-racism 101 lesson, which is extremely frustrating (note, they are mostly older, white women).
In response, I think to myself, "Sure, I'm not busy. I have 45 minutes in the middle of my workday to answer your call, unannounced, during a pandemic and national racial crisis. I have absolutely nothing better to do than listen to feelings of guilt and anxieties about how hard it is to not know how to help or where to start with a racial awareness journey."
The worst part of that for many of these women is this action of reaching out is their best effort. I'm trying my best to put myself second and give folks breathing room to sort through their emotions. The worst offenders surprisingly have been coaches. They either overshoot communications with surface statements of empowerment or just send me angry texts about all of the surprising and disturbing information they are learning (as though I have no idea about systemic racism and oppression).
I have heard more racism through well-meaning sentiments that are steeped in white privilege this week than I typically hear all year, especially from friends and colleagues. It causes doubt in my mind about the extent to which people understand black culture and how deeply I am a part of it.
One woman recently said she doesn't know how to find the line between "ally and whitesplaining" so she's freezing, trapped in a fog of indecision. I get that, but…
The worst thing white women can do at this time is to freeze and be silent.
I can only speak from the black female perspective; what we need most is for white women to challenge each other and share their journeys. Many are not open to learning about this challenging content from a black woman, simply because they have never had to.
The folks that are open to learning from black people were already doing the work before this crisis came to light—I'm not worried about them, I'm worried about "the Amys." Others want to learn it all and become overnight experts, which is not helpful for guiding others. In the end, it actually can breed contention and reinforce notions of intellectual superiority. Racial awareness is not a competition, it's a process.
I have had an emotional hangover all month. What I (and many black women) need are trusted, sensitive, woke allies, advocates, and activists in which we can share our emotional burdens. I am trying to do that for the folks at the front lines of racial inequity, but I have limited capacity. Also, we are all physically sick, which is not a coincidence. I have to see my cardiologist next week, which means these events are literally breaking my heart.*
Hallie
I’m sharing this personal email, with her permission, because Hallie’s words are haunting me:
The worst thing white women can do at this time is to freeze and be silent.
How many times have I frozen? Too many times to count. Why have I stayed silent? Too many excuses to name.
I know I’m not alone, and I also know fear and paralysis impact not just white women but all of us born into privilege and power simply because of our skin tone. (For more on how to unfreeze, please read Eleonora Bertoli’s Open Letter to White People.)
Sure, we mean well. Yes, we need spaces to process all the feelings—and there are years-worth of them. For any of us new to this work, I’ll repeat this very important reminder:
It is never ok to ask Black friends, colleagues, clients, neighbors, strangers to provide free emotional labor and education. You can Google why, and you can also reread Hallie’s words above:
I have had an emotional hangover all month. What I (and many black women) need are trusted, sensitive, woke allies, advocates, and activists in which we can share our emotional burdens. I am trying to do that for the folks at the front lines of racial inequity, but I have limited capacity.
I can only speak for myself, as we are all on our own journey of transformation. One of the ways I’m breaking the silence is speaking up even when I’m uncomfortable. I am embracing greater risk, especially in professional spaces, because it has become a personal responsibility to do so. Here’s the thing: taking greater risks increases the odds of making mistakes. I am making mistakes all over the place. I put my foot in my mouth. I say the wrong thing. I inject my words with too much self-righteous indignation and judgement. I hurt feelings. I cause harm. It’s a practice, and like any skill we seek to learn, our greatest learning comes through the painful failures. Therefore, I remind myself daily that perfectionism is a trait of white supremacy.
And, while I’m trying to break silence and take risks, there are times I remain passive and fail to use my voice to interrupt racial and ethnic violence. Blind spots remain. Old habits die hard. I get distracted or misread cues or forget how my race and power show up with me all the time. I become triggered by old traumas and fall into white norms of violence. To do this work is to be continually accountable for both our action and inaction.
I will keep trying—and failing—every day. Will you join me? I believe I have a moral obligation to heed Hallie’s call to action:
I can only speak from the black female perspective; what we need most is for white women to challenge each other and share their journeys.
This white woman is sharing her journey. This white woman is open to be challenged. This white woman is asking the white folx in her personal and professional circles, however you identify your gender, to move through our frozen states and silence and into action.
We will screw it up. We must grow accustomed to apologizing and accepting accountability. We are going to fail, and we can choose to learn from those failures. We will rest and recover. We will struggle, as Frederick Douglass and abolitionists have always struggled.
What we will not do is stay silent. Remember Hallie’s words, “Racial awareness is not a competition, it's a process.”
*Hallie’s physical health is no exception. Go ahead & Google, “Racial Disparities in Healthcare.”