My 4 GIANT White Person F*ckups. And How I Rectified Them.
Since I started building racial self-awareness, I’ve been on a journey of personal transformation with the goal of co-creating a racially just and equitable world. Coming from a white, wealthy, and insanely privileged background, I was blind to the privilege of my life, and acted accordingly. As I continue along this path, I meet many others who want to do better and aren’t sure where to start, or are fearful that if they take action, they’ll inevitably step on someone’s toes. The truth is, mistakes happen even when we’re trying to be a better human and do right by others — and that’s okay. We need to own our fallibility, let go of perfection, and dive into the messy work of making the world a more just place.
Without shame and with accountability, here are four mistakes I made on my journey (which I’ve since learned from) and I hope that in my admission, others will course-correct before they, too, eff up royally:
Number 1: Mispaying (or not paying) BIPOC (Black Indigenous and People of Color) for their work.
There was a time when we consulted with a dear friend, Opt-In podcast guest and healer Jaiden Love, a Black trans man, for a project raising awareness of Trans rights and the Stonewall Riots. In a rush, I quickly Venmo’d Jaiden $100, paying what I assumed his services were worth rather than directly asking his fee. Jaiden lovingly texted, “why did you pay me the amount that you paid me?” It gets worse, y’all. His question triggered my fear that I’d mishandled the situation, so I sent another $100, yet again, without asking what his fee was. Looking back, I see I was acting out of hoarding, comfort, urgency, control, binary thinking, and wanting to quickly cross something off my to do list — all characteristics of white supremacy culture.
A simple ask would have made this a relational interaction, instead, I was so transactional. Jaiden gifted me a long, uncomfortable talk in which I accounted for my white behavior and was able to repair our friendship. I sent Jaiden the fee determined by him. I shared this story with our community to model how messy things get when we really show up to grow in this work and recognize the delusions of our default, white-dominant thinking.
Early on, I wasn’t thinking about the flow of my money. I didn’t think about who benefitted from my purchases or where those dollars were eventually ending up. As I began to look at where my money was going, I started seeking out BIPOC-owned businesses and service providers, and still, my whiteness managed to screw that up! Today, I have honest conversations about what people desire to be paid before signing on to work together, err on the side of complete transparency, and have an honest desire for all people to be appreciated for their inherent value and worth.
Number 2: Jumping into action before self reflection.
Upon my revelation of racist thoughts and societal dynamics, I felt urged to jump in headfirst. I co-created the “10,000 White Women: Doing the Work” workshop, without the awareness that this was work BIPOC educators had been doing for decades.
Due to my ignorance and subsequent lack of awareness, I dove straight to action without the vital introspection needed to get there. I recognize now the saviorism I exhibited, the perceived need to DO when really what I needed to learn and practice was how to BE; how to be outside of the framework of white supremacy and how to be with full knowledge of my privilege in business and the world.
Now, there’s nothing we do at The Opt-In without self-awareness leading the way. We’re always looking at how our mindset and behaviors impact and affect other people and how our racial social identity affects how I (and others who look like me) are viewed in any given situation. There’s constant attention given to perception, reflection, and introspection, which usually means garnering points of view from those who look nothing like me and have lived experiences foreign to my own.
Number 3: Bullying rather than challenging.
No sooner did I learn of my white privilege did I turn around and start pointing my finger at “other white people.” I thought I needed to both get them on board and to prove that I was “one of the good ones.”
In the Karpman Drama triangle, we are the villain, the victim, or the rescuer. I was watching myself pingpong from the bully as a white person to BIPOC in the US to a different version of the villain, bullying the other white people around me. Turns out shaming and berating people doesn’t get them to open our hearts or minds. What I’ve concluded at this point in my journey (thanks to the work of many Black women) is that this work is about love — deep, radical love — both for those who do and do not think like me, for everyone and their own unique path and experiences.
The Empowerment Triangle evolves those drama roles to challenger, coach and creator. This is the challenge in any given moment: loving myself or others while simultaneously seeing all the harm we have caused, as it is the only way to rise above the constructs of oppression and self-loathing.
Creating deep love and accountability are what will see us through.
Number 4: Fixating on Black rather than looking at white.
I was addictively reading books, watching movies, and learning about the Black experience. Per Rudine Sims Bishop’s idea of “windows and mirrors,” I had too many windows into the lives of BIPOC and entered into the realm of voyeurism. And yet, too many mirrors will become a practice in my own vanity. We need ways to learn about and comprehend the experiences of BIPOC as much as we need mirrors into our own privileged identities. It’s all about balance.
From these new perspectives, I’ve noticed that the word “racism” can often equate to all eyes on BIPOC (even if these glances are accompanied with the idea that “racism is bad”), and looking outside of ourselves as white people. We look at what’s happening to “them” and don’t address the crux of the issue — us. The way forward is actually to have eyes on our own whiteness and how that’s playing out in and around us. We look at who isn’t in the room; who isn’t being heard and represented? Who is? If we don’t see whiteness, we can’t dismantle it.
Full disclosure, I’m positive I’ve made more than four flubs. Like anything in life with a learning curve, there are tons of moments of not knowing, fearing the wrong decision, and low confidence. With each step forward I take, in love and community, I’m able to grow in my stamina for discomfort and continue showing up, accountably, to help build the world, in the words of Rev. angel Kyoto williams, “we’ve yet to see, but all come from.”