Admit You Are Racist? Three Reasons Why This Is a Good Idea

This article was originally published on Teaching While White.

Growing up, I was shown lots of images of racist people: Adolph Hitler, whites clad in KKK garb, and the like. Racists, in my upbringing, were hate-filled white people who sprayed fire hoses on nonviolent protesters during the 1960s Civil Rights era and used hate speech and violence to discriminate against and destroy marginalized populations. In contemporary times, popular images of such racists include white terrorists like Dylan Roof or Timothy McVeigh and those who marched in Charlottesville, Virginia, in 2017 in defense of Confederate iconography and ideologies.

While it’s clearly right to condemn such behavior, if we are serious about justice and creating an equitable culture in America, we need to start by offering a more accurate portrait of what racism in American looks like. Along with most white Americans coming of age in the second half of the 20th century, I long thought of myself as an antiracist because of my disgust of the violent, aggressive, immoral behavior of white supremisists. But I’ve come to learn that any accurate portrait of racist people in the United States would have to include a photo of me as well — of any of us who are white and act like innocent bystanders in a biased system.

One of the reasons white supremacy is so successful as a system is that it’s a moving target — and it has been since the invention of whiteness. When early white U.S. lawmakers felt threatened that their power would be challenged or overthrown, they created laws that best served their aims. The story of whiteness has followed this thread since the days of colonial settlement. In the 20th Century, white aggression became associated primarily with violent actions committed by the KKK, the Nazis in World War II (whose theories on race were shaped by U.S. policy), and police using excessive force during the Civil Rights era and in communities of color ever since. White progressives were able to distance themselves from these more extreme displays of violence and hate, but because of white conditioning remained wary of fully embracing systems of equality. It’s that indoctrination combined with a sense of separation and exceptionalism — the distinguishing one kind of white person from another — that has enabled white supremacy to perpetuate itself. 

It’s painful to think that as a white person I have contributed to upholding this kind of status quo, even inadvertently. But I’ve been around long enough to know this is true. I’ve experienced this status quo most in our education system. Over the past 20 years, not a lot has changed in our schools when it comes to the treatment and experiences of students based on race. Schools with a dominant population of students of color receive less funding that predominantly white schools. Nationally, teachers and top administrators are disproportionaltely white. Black and brown students still receive higher suspension rates than their white peers. They also receive lower grades and tend to be tracked into lower-level courses. At the same time, the majority of white educators continue to practice colorblindness, even when they say they are grappling with how to best teach equitably and inclusively in their classrooms.

I’m not saying anything new here. But it needs to be said until it takes hold: As whites, we can no longer distance ourselves from one another, and we can no longer think that, simply by virtue of the beliefs we hold about equity or the schools we choose to work in, we are doing enough to dismantle systems of oppression. We need to be braver and more proactive than that.

Those of us who have grown up white in the United States have been conditioned to hold a racist worldview. There are many things we can and should do to help break this system, but as a starting point, it would help immensely for us to acknowledge our own racist behavior rather than spending so much energy convincing ourselves and those around us that we’re not part of the problem.

Here are three reasons why this might be a good idea:

1. To acknowledge that one is a racist is to take ownership of the legacies of our system.

No, none of us were present when the first European invaders designed our society to protect and promote white people. But if we are white, we experience the benefits of our system daily: through the values we reinforce, through the majority of power holders in this country, through the opportunities available to us in which our race and qualifications aren’t called into question. To start by acknowledging that we are racist — or, if you prefer, that we embody and promote racist perspectives — means we take responsibility to examine these systems more closely, identify the areas that have been exclusionary and damaging, and work toward designing new systems that are truly inclusive of difference.

2. To acknowledge that one is a racist opens the conversation about race and propels us to take action

Part of white conditioning is binary thinking (either/or, good/bad). Unless we’ve committed some sort of conscious act of racism that intends to hurt people of color, we’re are conditioned to believe we are on the side of good people rather than bad racist people. Robin DiAngelo, a sociologist and author of White Fragility, calls this the “good/bad binary.” And to be fixed in this way of thinking hurls us to the extremes; we’re either a good white person or a bad racist. This fixed way of thinking also absolves all us who view ourselves as “good white people” from taking any responsibility to make change, to talk about the racist views we may hold, or to even consider that we may have said or done anything racist. If we know our worldview is racist to begin with, if we know the good/bad binary is a false construct, we can begin to honestly confront our own experiences and change our behaviors and actions.

3. To acknowledge that one is a racist breeds discomfort, and discomfort leads to greater learning

Learning theory posits that we need to be in our Zone of Proximal Development (ZPD) in order to learn. If we’re too safe, we can become complacent in our thinking; if we’re too unsafe, our amygdala generates a fight, flight, or freeze response that inhibits us from integrating new input. When we’re learning optimally within our ZPD, we are uncomfortable enough to grapple and be challenged — and, thus, grow. Starting with acknowledging that we are racists living in a racist system invites the kind of discomfort that can lead to greater self examination and learning that, in turn, invites us into new ways of being. Isn’t that what we ask of our students every day?

I do a lot of thinking about race, systems of oppression, power, and all the ways our society mirrors whiteness and white supremacy. While for some that may be an exhausting way to live, I actually find it quite freeing, especially as an educator. Seeing these systems at play all the time forces me to stay continually present to what’s happening for me and ensure my actions don’t cause further harm, that I co-create classrooms and adult learning spaces that make room for all kinds of difference, that I participate in ways of being that help dismantle destructive power systems in exchange for the empowerment of the collective.

If we entered into education to make a difference, then we know we would do anything we could to prevent harm from happening. Too many white people still refuse to confront the hard truth that their thinking and actions — or inactions — may serve to support a racist system. If our ultimate goal is that we want everyone to have equal access and opportunity in all areas of life, then it’s time to consider the notion that, no matter how nice we may be to others, we undoubtedly embody racist perspectives based on the fact that we’ve been enculturated into society that was racist in its founding and continues to be so today. When we acknowledge this, we can free ourselves up to engage in the hard work of unlearning conditioned habits and engaging in consciously antiracist behavior  — work designed to offer future generations a world that is just and equitable.