I have a confession to make, and it’s an uncomfortable one. Over the last two weeks, I’ve watched the events unfold in the US and around the world and been reminded just how much work there is to do to dismantle white supremacy. I’ve also been reminded of, and grappling with, my own racism. There, I said it.
Not long ago I took the most recent Harvard Implicit Association test, which I often use in workshops and have taken many times before. I approached the test with trepidation (that I’d be exposed – to myself – as racist/sexist/ageist) and hope (maybe I’m finally bias-free!) But, once again, I left feeling disheartened by assessments indicating my strong bias against working women, and a moderate preference for White People over Black people.
I’m aware that for many white people, there is comfort in the notion that any bias we hold is unconscious, a product of the world we live in, where media, pop culture imagery and socialization all combine to create a toxic marinade in which we all swim. We tell ourselves that we “can’t help” absorbing the messages that shape our view of the world, and the people in it.
Except that we can. And we must.
If we as white people don’t start examining our own biases – conscious or not – then we are complicit in upholding the white supremacy that we live in and benefit from.
There’s been a lot of talk about how we as white people need to stop talking and listen. And a lot of virtue-signaling from white people – and white-owned organizations – that we are listening and making space for black voices (witness Blackout Tuesday). Listening is essential. But we also need to ask ourselves: what are we waiting to hear? For Black people to tell us what the problem is? Or how to solve it? For Black friends to reassure us that we’re not racist?
The enigmatic artist Banksy recently shared his realization that staying silent and listening to Black voices is far from enough. The system that’s failing people of colour is a white system that he describes as “… a broken pipe flooding the apartment of the people living downstairs. The faulty system is making their life a misery, but it’s not their job to fix it. They can’t, no one will let them in the apartment upstairs. This is a white problem. And if white people don’t fix it, someone will have to come upstairs and kick the door in.”
A year ago, I wrote an article about stepping into the discomfort of difficult conversations about microaggressions and rudeness. A year later, I believe that while these conversations are still important, white people need to start having these conversations with ourselves and work to make our bias conscious. Noticing the ways in which we react or respond differently to people of colour. The small ways in which we give ourselves a pass. The question needs to shift from “Am I racist?” to “How am I racist and how does this impact my behaviour in the world?”
Yes, our bias may be unconscious, and yes, many of the forces that shape them are beyond our control. But it’s only in applying scrutiny to our own thoughts and behaviour, that we can begin to make the invisible visible and hold ourselves accountable. We can then begin the uncomfortable conversations with ourselves that can lead to meaningful changes in our own lives.
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