White People: Shame is in Your Way
I remember the first time I turned toward myself for reassurance that I was still ‘good’ after a racially charged interaction.
Our facilitation team (myself and two colleagues of color) were facilitating content on microaggressions for a high-profile client. We decided on the spot that the participants would benefit from a demonstration and so we quickly chose some ‘roles’ to act out. Mine was essentially ‘average white person unintentionally being racist’ and so I said something racially biased (as planned) so that our third facilitator could demonstrate how to interrupt.
As we role-played in front of our large audience, I saw in my co-facilitator’s eyes that what I’d said was impacting him. Everything in me screamed for reassurance from him that he still liked me, I was still ‘a good white person.’
Ironically, even though I was leading DEI work and facilitating across the country, I didn’t see my desire for affirmations of my ‘goodness’ from BIPOC colleagues as the emotional labor that it was.
In front of 60 people, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I thought I saw hurt in his eyes, I turned toward him looking for reassurance, feeling very raw and vulnerable, and in that moment, I thought: This isn’t his job. I can do this for myself. I think I even said it out loud. And I stopped myself. I just let it be. I sat with the discomfort of the experience. I felt a flood of negative feelings and I reminded myself that I’m good.
I now see that my racial shame was masquerading as a frequent need for reassurance.
Shame, I believe, directly fuels white fragility (a term coined by Robin DiAngelo, defined as: Discomfort and defensiveness on the part of a white person when confronted by information about racial inequality and injustice).
I believe that a necessary part of unlearning racism for white people is to uncover racially biased thoughts and then change them.
Seems simple enough, right?
Not quite. For many of us, choosing to see our racially biased thoughts triggers such painful/dissonant feelings that we halt the process altogether.
Nothing could be less productive, in my humble opinion. This is why any sort of intentionally shaming approach intended to educate white folx (who genuinely want racial equity) is counter-productive.
Brené Brown talks about shame as ‘basically the fear of being unlovable.’
The (tremendously worthwhile) challenge for us white folx then becomes: Choosing to SEE our (absorbed, inherited, undesired) racism AND still choosing to love OURSELVES so we can stay in the conversation and become the people we want to be.
Only then can we change our thoughts, beliefs and actions to align with our values of racial justice.
Then, we can grow into racially RESILIENT white people. We can be white people who openly embrace racial conversations. White people who recover quickly from the inherent complexities and emotions that arise from collectively working to dismantle a dehumanizing system.
White people who can identify our roles both in injustices and in collective liberation.
