White Supremacy and Me
- Joshua Rumple
- Feb 17, 2020
- 5 min read
Change is almost always uncomfortable.
At one point during my childhood, I grew six inches in six months. My hips, back, and knees felt like they were breaking every day as my body was stretching in ways that I could not comprehend. My body still bears the stretch marks from growing so quickly. My body, under that much change, was certainly uncomfortable.
When I first encountered anti-racist work, it was uncomfortable too because it demanded a change in the way that I lived. I had heard so many stories from friends, co-workers, and complete strangers that convinced me that racism was still prevalent in a society that I believed had moved past it. The educational system I grew up in convinced me that we worked out our issues back in the 1960s with the work of Martin Luther King Jr, Rosa Parks, and others.
When the present reality of racism was exposed to me, I had suddenly realized that changes needed to take place: in my own life and in the world around me. Change is almost always uncomfortable.
My white privilege allowed [allows] me to ignore the reality of racism all around me because I did not see myself as a part of the problem. I had never owned a slave. I had always sought to treat people with kindness, regardless of the color of their skin. I had friends and family from different racial and ethnic backgrounds. I was one of the “good” white people.
While all of that is true, they gave me an excuse to continue to live in ignorance, ignoring the tangible pain of people of color all around me. Whenever the subject of racism arose, I claimed that “I wasn’t racist” and “I’m on your side” which simply allowed me to push the blame onto the “bad” white people without critically examining my own life and the system that I benefitted from.
The fact of the matter is that white supremacy is fundamental to the American system (as well as most of Western civilization), and we, as individuals, are thoroughly entrenched within that system of white supremacy. It will take more than good intentions to root out the inherent white supremacy in our individual and collective psyche on top of the structural racism that exists in every level of our society. No, the goal of an anti-racist society is far from complete, and to get there will require a lot more change than us simply being nice to one another.
And this change will be uncomfortable.
For a long time, I was uncomfortable when the subject of race came up, especially around people of color. My goal was to avoid messing up, to avoid sounding ignorant. The thing I, and many other people with similar levels of melanin, feared the most was being called a “racist”. I wanted to keep that word as far away from me as possible, so I simply did not talk about it. Avoidance became my shield, protecting me from being called a racist. That fear was so overwhelming that I avoided discussing it altogether because being in a conversation could expose my vulnerabilities.
I had the privilege of being able to ignore race, to look past skin color, to be “color blind”. The politics of color blindness is dangerous, and it ignores the harsh reality of structural racism in society. When we assert our well-intentioned color blindness, we often silence the critiques of people of color who are actively seeking to address issues facing them directly and society as a whole. The goal of color blindness is to make ourselves look enlightened when all it is really doing is ignoring the all-too-real presence of racism.
That was selfish, self-centered, and self-seeking because I cared more about my comfort level than I did about seeking to understand how racism affected those around me. I was more uncomfortable with being called ignorant than I was about actually being ignorant.
And that is a shame. Fear kept me from loving my neighbor and from learning how to better be a human in this world.
It takes courage to love one another. It takes courage to listen. It takes courage to learn.
But what I am discovering is that life is not about me. My goal should never be to protect my own comfort, particularly when it prevents me from being vulnerable enough to listen, learn, and change. I do not need to be ashamed for what I do not know.
That’s why I am writing this.
I am not writing this to prove to you that racism exists, even though it does. If you do not believe racism exists, no amount of narrative storytelling or shocking statistics will change your mind. Every corner of this country is permeated by the existence of racism. Yes, even in your small little corner of the world.
I am not writing this to prove to you that you are part of the problem, even though you probably are. I won’t be able to convince you of that, as that will only take honest self-reflection and a critical assessment of yourself and the world around you to come to that conclusion.
I am writing this to admit that I don’t know everything. I am ignorant in so many ways, but that is OK. We can’t know everything. Admitting that we are ignorant about something is the first step in the process of learning. It is not unbecoming to admit that you do not know something, but it is unbecoming to refuse to learn.
I am writing this to invite you to join me in deconstructing the system of racism that is working in and around all of us. White supremacy is devious, cunning, and destructive, and it does not appear as clearly as someone walking around with a white hood and white robes, on their way to a cross burning.
Sometimes it looks like avoiding “the bad part of town”. Sometimes it looks like the majority of prisoners being people of color even though crime is committed at the same rate by every racial demographic. Sometimes it looks like ignoring an application because the name on it looks unfamiliar. Sometimes it looks like voter ID laws.
White supremacy can look a million different ways in and around us, and it benefits when we fail to confront it explicitly. This means we must speak about it, and it means we are going to have to listen and learn, even though we know we are going to make mistakes.
This is an invitation to learn, even though the process of learning is uncomfortable, as all change is. This is an invitation to you.
Racism is complicated. We have a long way to go to understand the intricacies of racism in our society and in our own selves. It will take more than policy change or a modification of our moral standards to solve it. I don’t have the answers, but that’s not why I am writing this.
I just want you to know, dear friend, that this is going to take some work. This is going to be uncomfortable, and we are going to make mistakes. That is OK. The trick is for us to be humble enough to admit when we have erred and courageous enough to learn from our mistakes.
Denouncing the white supremacy in myself requires that I acknowledge that I do not have all the answers, or really even any answer. This isn’t about me at all, and it’s not about you. Your discomfort should not prevent you from listening and learning.
Change is almost always uncomfortable, but perhaps we can be brave changing together.
What this does not mean is burdening the people of color around you with your questions. It’s not their job to teach you, unless they want to teach you. Before asking individuals for help, in person or on social media, please consult the work that is already out there.
If the subject arises in conversation, participate! But also do your homework.
Here are some resources I have found helpful in learning about racism:
“13th” on Netflix
And SO MANY OTHERS.
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