It would be simple for me to assert that I am not a racist. I would never use a racial slur, nor have I ever contributed to harmful statements like “All Lives Matter.” I recognize the detrimental implications of such phrases. I would never deliberately mistreat someone based on their skin color—some of my closest friends are Black, and I owe much of my growth to a mentor from my teenage years who shaped my understanding of the world.
However, for years, I lacked a true comprehension of racism. My education offered a glimpse into the Civil War and slavery, but it never addressed the systemic issues that persisted post-abolition. The lessons I received in February about Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and the Civil Rights Movement painted a picture of complete triumph. In my mind, the battle for equality was over.
I equated racism with outright hatred and violence towards others based on race. Since I didn’t fit that definition, I thought I was exempt from any association with racism. Kindness was the only virtue I believed mattered, and that was all I was taught to strive for.
The reality began to shift for me a few years ago, particularly after the murder of Trayvon Martin. That incident ignited a desire within me to delve deeper into the realities of racism beyond textbook definitions. Until then, discussions about race felt distant and abstract—I was not directly affected by racism and believed it did not concern me.
Trayvon’s tragic death prompted a journey of self-reflection that exposed my own biases. Although I have absorbed knowledge over the years, I remained largely silent, believing it was not my place to speak up. I was mistaken.
The recent death of George Floyd has catalyzed a significant dialogue about racism and police brutality that I have never witnessed before. In this moment, Black voices are amplifying a crucial message: “White allies, speak out, but do not overshadow us. Silence is complicity. Confront your biases and stop contributing to the problem.”
While I have never intentionally harmed anyone because of their race, I now recognize the subtle ways I have perpetuated racial insensitivity. For instance, I recall a time when a friend entered my home with her hair styled straight. I was captivated and, without her permission, touched her hair, unaware of the discomfort I was causing. It was a thoughtless act rooted in ignorance, a product of white privilege that allowed me to overlook the frequent violations of personal space that she faced.
I have often quoted Dr. King, selecting only the harmonious parts of his message while ignoring the more challenging truths he conveyed. I have remained silent when racist jokes were made in my presence, feeling superior simply for not being the one to make those jokes. In the past, I accepted the notion that the success of a few affluent Black individuals was proof of equal opportunity, failing to recognize the broader systemic barriers faced by countless others.
I have never considered myself a malicious racist; however, I have benefitted from the same systems that oppress those I care about. It has become clear that understanding and addressing racism is an ongoing process that requires continual effort. With three white children, my responsibility is to ensure they grow up with a more comprehensive understanding than I did.
When I explained current events to my seven-year-old son, he was devastated. He listed the Black individuals he loves and mourned the thought of losing them. “Eight minutes is such a long time for someone to hurt someone else, Mommy,” he said, shattering my heart. I briefly contemplated shielding him from these harsh realities, but that is a luxury not afforded to Black families. Conversations about race must occur early and often.
If I allow my child to grow up without understanding the complexities of racial injustice, he risks becoming part of the problem, a complacent white man who has never questioned systemic inequality. Kindness alone is insufficient; I have come to realize that I, too, have participated in systemic racism.
While I cannot change the past, I can commit to doing better moving forward. The lives of Black individuals depend on the willingness of white people to confront their biases and work toward change.
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Summary:
This reflection illustrates the author’s journey of recognizing their own unintentional racism despite believing themselves to be kind and non-prejudicial. Through personal anecdotes and realizations, they confront the subtle ways they have perpetuated biases, affirming the need for ongoing education and advocacy against systemic racism.