Me and White Supremacy Day #27: You and Losing Privilege
In this chapter, Layla F. Saad says, “Over the last twenty-six days, you have explored what that [white] privilege means in ways that you have probably never done before. You have been able to see how your privilege has harmed BIPOC. You will also have begun to realize that in order for change to happen, you must lose some of that privilege.”
Although it’s embarrassing that this has taken me much longer than 28 days, it’s given me more time to reflect on this process as it unfolds. I have been reflecting a lot on the loss of privilege, because surrendering mine meant giving up a personal project that meant a lot to me and on which I’ve been working for many years. I realized that there were other people out there who could do this project better than me and I needed to step back and give them the space to do so. There has been a lot of grief involved with that even as I understand that it was the right call.
One question Saad asks today is “How will you need to change the way you take up space by and with BIPOC?” I am doing this by working to amplify other voices more so than being a “voice for the voiceless.” If it’s something I’ve learned from this, it’s that nobody is actually voiceless, it’s that they don’t have a microphone, a stage, or an audience willing to listen.
Although there are many ways I can show up for BIPOC, the most practical, frequent way in which I will be doing so is in my job, where I am striving to provide my students with books that show them people who look like them, books that show them possible futures and who they can be. That is one way I can de-centre whiteness and the white gaze. I can also continually promote, promote, promote these resources to my predominantly white colleagues.
In terms of the risks and sacrifices I must be willing to make, I need to overcome my fear of confrontation. I don’t think it will ever go away, but I have to face it. I am getting better at this. I am learning how to speak and how not to back down. It means sacrificing my comfort and the comfort of those around me, and enduring that awful, puke-worthy feeling I experience when I have upset social harmony. I am currently reading another book as well, Sara Ahmed’s Living a Feminist Life, where she talks about the figure of the “killjoy” in feminism. It's so relevant here: “Whether or not you are being difficult, you are heard as making things difficult for yourself as well as others […] The figure of the killjoy comes up whenever there are difficult histories to bring up.” Sometimes these histories only date back minutes, sometimes centuries. But the killjoy is necessary, because she makes the history visible and undeniable instead of just being a tacit status quo. When Saad asks here, “In what ways will you need to take greater responsibility?” what comes to mind is that I must take on the responsibility of being a killjoy, even when the thought of it makes me want to throw up. In fact, if it makes me want to throw up, that’s probably a sign of just how necessary it is.
That’s not to say that the killjoy can’t have compassion or grace. When I watch authors like Layla F. Saad or Austin Channing Brown or Rachel Held Evans or Dr. Wil Gafney speak live, for example, it’s astonishing how much compassion and grace they have. But neither will they allow for a joy that derives from the inherently broken system of white supremacy.
Another question Saad asks is, “How will I need to de-centre whiteness and the white gaze?” I have been making a concerted effort to expose myself more to a diverse range of voices and ensure that I am not only consuming white-centred media. I am also asking myself about how my life is currently set up that brings me only into the sphere of others like me (ie. those who have similar racial, socio-economic, or educational backgrounds to mine) and how I can disrupt that to meet people I wouldn’t normally meet, and hear perspectives that might make me uncomfortable. This is also part of a broader push in my life to put more of an emphasis on community instead of solely on myself.
“How will you need to lose privilege and safety in your friendships, workspaces, businesses, families, spiritual communities, and other white-centred spaces?” Wow, this question is overwhelming because it’s so multi-faceted and the answers vary so much depending on circumstances. In my friendships, family, and my workspace, I’d say that I will need to be willing to risk the comfort of those around me to call out white supremacy when it appears. For spiritual community, this is very difficult to answer because this is in serious flux for me at the moment. But I think there’s a difference between a space where you can enact change by speaking up, calling out, etc., and a space where no amount of that is going to accomplish anything. I think it’s okay to acknowledge that when it occurs and be willing to move on, however much grief that brings with it. Deep down, I have always assumed this to be an act of cowardice, but now that I’m going through it I’m realizing how much courage it actually requires. This has been a humbling experience.
Saad’s final, sucker-punch question of the day is, “Are you willing to lose your white privilege after everything you’ve learned here?”
When I embarked on this, my hope was that I could learn to identify my unconscious biases so that I could eliminate them. Then I could pat myself on the back and feel good about how un-racist I am.
I certainly have learned these things, but along with them has come the realization that I am only a tiny piece in a giant, hulking machine that hurts BIPOC every day. I have learned that it’s not enough to think only in terms of my individual actions, or to congratulate myself for “levelling up” in anti-racism. This work is not linear. There is no endpoint. I can’t just think of myself, but I have to think of the social space and social structures around me and how people move through them. How can I move through these spaces in ways that might help to create a new balance? How can I work alongside others doing the same? These are heavy new questions that require envisioning a different space that allows everyone the freedom and joy of full human flourishing.
I have no intention of giving a pat answer here. At the beginning of this, I would have answered “Yes!” incredulously, as if to say, “How could anyone say otherwise?” But I will be brutally honest here and admit that at the time, I did not understand what losing my white privilege actually entailed. There was also a performative aspect to it, born more of my desire to reinforce my identity as a “good, liberal progressive” than to truly engage in the work.
My answer is still yes. But I now understand that is does involve sacrifice and discomfort, and that BIPOC have been trying to tell me this my entire life, but I didn’t know how to hear it.