White Women: Our Role in Racial (In)Justice

To my white sisters, with love and hope for a world that doesn’t yet exist, with more justice and more peace.

By Kathleen Osta, Managing Director, National Equity Project

Photo by Thomas Allsop on Unsplash

I went to sleep the other night reading Ta’Nehesi Coates’ essay The Life Breonna Taylor Lived In the Words of Her Mother, written in the words of Breonna Taylor’s mother, Tamika Palmer. Reading her words and imagining her, a mother, waiting for hours in the middle of the night for information about what had happened to her daughter, my chest tightened. I pictured her going to the hospital looking for Breonna and being sent away only to find out later that her daughter had been murdered in her own apartment by a police officer. I imagine the horror, the confusion, and the rage. I remember when my own first child was born, not breathing, and was whisked away from me to the NICU. I remember the feeling of powerlessness and the terror of not knowing what was happening to my baby or if she would live, but I never wondered whether she would be less cared for or mistreated because she was white.

As I read more about Breonna’s life, I did what I often do — I imagined all of the ways white people would likely dehumanize her and justify her murder based on some distorted sense that she was to blame because of her choices — where she lived, what she did, who she lived with, who she had relationships with, etc. And, here is the thing. None of that matters and none of it justifies her murder. None. Of. It.

And yet, I have heard it over and over again. A narrative both explicit and implicit that white people hold that somehow all the bad things that happen to Black and Brown people in our country can be explained away by their “choices.” There are so many things wrong with this that it is hard to know where to begin.

Confronting how we got here is one way to start. In 1619, white European colonizers in what would become the United States claimed that Black African people were not fully human to justify enslaving them for profit and gain. Before that, white people used dehumanizing narratives to justify the genocide of Indigenous people and the stealing of Indigenous land. These false and harmful narratives have been reinforced over centuries as we created laws, systems, and structures that stole and withheld resources from people we did not consider white.

There is actually no such thing as “white.” Racial categories have no biological basis, yet for centuries the idea of whiteness has been used to consolidate power in the hands of a few while disenfranchising and subjugating anyone not considered white. Nell Painter Irving has written extensively about the creation and history of whiteness. The ideology of white supremacy, the idea that white people are inherently superior to people who are not white, coupled with dehumanizing narratives and anti-Black racism became enduring belief systems that shaped our laws and institutions and have been used to justify exclusion and systemic oppression in every facet of American society.

White people created laws denying African American people the right to vote, and even after the passage of the Voting Rights Act of 1965 (and to this day), people of color are most likely to have their vote suppressed or rejected. We created a “justice” system that terrorizes, incarcerates, and murders Black people with impunity. We implemented national programs to lift people out of poverty, but specifically excluded Black and Brown people — Social Security, the GI Bill, the Federal Housing Authority — all of these programs that created access to education, housing, and generational wealth for white people following World War II excluded the majority of African American, Latinx, and Native people. We fund our public school system using property taxes, ensuring egregious inequities in education by design. Within schools, we continue to police Black bodies, communicate fear and disdain of Black students, and limit access to opportunities for academic excellence by tracking Black and Brown students into low-level courses and offering curriculum that does not reflect their experiences or value. Consistent with the way white supremacy operates, most of us were never taught this history, but these laws and policies create profoundly inequitable living conditions, significantly limiting access to resources for BIPOC people, which inevitably produce racially disparate outcomes in every facet of life in the United States. And, to a large degree, we (white people) accept this as if it is the natural order of things and go about our lives — perhaps wishing people didn’t suffer, but not taking responsibility for our part in their suffering.

When I texted with my dear friend LaShawn (who also happens to be our extraordinary Executive Director at the National Equity Project), about the verdict of the Grand Jury in Breonna Taylor’s murder she responded, “Black women are mobilizing and circling up in ways that history has taught us to…we know the truth.” And, I know this to be true. Black women have always organized, fought, stood up, sacrificed, and led — not just for the betterment of Black people, but for all people.

I’d like to think white women are mobilizing and circling up in this moment with the same level of intensity and purpose as if our own children were being murdered. I know some are, but I know we have so much more to do to do better, individually and collectively, to step up for racial justice as white women in this moment. I know we need to be more outspoken, more brave, more willing to disrupt the harmful status quo.

The Grand Jury in Louisville announced that no charges would be brought against the officers responsible for Breonna Taylor’s murder 65 years to the day that the white men who maimed and murdered 14 year old Emmitt Till for allegedly flirting with a white woman were acquitted on September 23, 1955. I was reminded of Emmett Till’s mother, Mamie Till and her courage and determination to fight for justice, honoring her son’s life with an open casket so the world could see what had been done to her baby. And then I saw this picture taken of the men who murdered Emmett Till following their acquittal and my eyes locked on their wives.

White women. Mothers. They could only be smiling if they believed Emmett Till deserved to be murdered. They could only believe that if they believed he was not as fully human, beautiful, and brilliant as their own children.

White women have always been complicit in and used as a tool in the reproduction of white supremacy and patriarchy. Protecting white women has been used as justification for heinous acts of violence against Black people. And, while we may not believe that Emmett Till’s or Breonna Taylor’s murders were justified, I do know that we participate in and benefit from systems that prioritize our comfort and the needs of our white children at the expense of people and children of color every day.

We have been taught not to think much about whiteness while at the same time we are fed a steady stream of messaging about the superiority and “normalness” of white people. Consider the extent to which explicitly and implicitly whiteness is the norm against which we compare and judge other groups. We have been socialized to believe that being a “good parent” means advocating for the benefit of our own children regardless of the impact of that advocacy and its resulting resource hoarding on the wider community. We see ourselves as “good” white people, not the kind who are racist. We are just living our lives doing our best to take care of our families and wishing no harm on Black or Brown children. This way of thinking lines up with the dominant narrative about racism as primarily something that individuals enact through beliefs and actions rather than an enduring set of laws, policies, practices, and structural arrangements that create and perpetuate racialized outcomes and harm.

This is why, as white women,“not being racist” is not the point and is insufficient to interrupt much less eradicate racism and its harms to all of us. What is required is that we speak up and fight for justice as if our own babies were being maligned, excluded, mistreated, and murdered because as part of the human family — they are.

But how do we, as white women, step up and mobilize for racial justice?

We have historical guides. Anne Braden was a white Civil Rights activist and journalist who spent over fifty years fighting racism and organizing white southerners to support civil rights. In the 1950s, she was indicted on charges of sedition for helping an African American family (the Wades) buy a house in an all-white suburb of Louisville, defying racist real estate practices and Jim Crow laws preventing Black families from moving into white neighborhoods. She was despised by many white people, but undeterred. Anne Braden was a white rebel leader and co-conspirator.

“The battle is and always has been a battle for the hearts and minds of white people in this country. The fight against racism is our issue. It’s not something we’re called on to help people of color with. We need to become involved with it as if our lives depended on it because, really, in truth, they do. “ — Anne Braden

There are countless ways we as white women can and must carry out Braden’s legacy today in our own communities and across the country to continue the fight for racial justice and secure a better future for everyone. Here are just a few (adapted from Paul Kivel’s Guidelines for Being Strong White Allies):

• Assume racism is everywhere, every day because for centuries our lives have been shaped by laws, policies, practices, and institutional arrangements of white supremacy ideology. Take responsibility for learning this history and for “seeing” how it operates today. Scene on Radio, Seeing White podcast is a great way to build knowledge and sharpen our racial justice lens.
• Understand that intentions do not equal impact; not intending to cause harm or act in oppressive ways toward people of color does not prevent us from doing so. We will make mistakes. Be prepared for and invite feedback on the impact of our words and actions in our communities and workplaces; receive feedback as a gift and keep learning how to be a co-conspirator. It won’t always feel good, but it is critical that we build our emotional stamina for hearing and learning from hard truths.
• When we see outcomes that are disparate by race locally, regionally or nationally, assume that there are institutional policies and practices producing those outcomes — identify them, raise awareness about their harmful impacts, dismantle them, advocate for policies that mitigate harm and advance the well-being of everyone. (Who is being hired? Who is on the leadership team? Who runs the PTO? Who has the most resources? Whose kids are valued, protected and cared for?)
• If your children attend a school where students of color are underrepresented in the highest level courses (e.g., gifted and talented, honors, AP, etc.) and/or overrepresented in remedial programs, special education, or suspensions, assume that there are ways of doing business that may appear neutral to white people, but that are discriminatory and unjust in their impact. Intelligence is evenly distributed across the human race, if the outcomes and experiences in your school don’t reflect that truth, dig deeper and push for change. Anything less is being complicit in and benefiting from racist structures.
• Learn about how white supremacy ideology operates in our own lives. Take time to reflect on how we have benefited from white supremacy as well as what we have lost. Consider, who were we before we were white? Who might we become when we eradicate racism? In his book My Grandmother’s Hands, Resmaa Menakem writes about what European Americans lost when we traded parts of our own cultures and histories to “be white” in the United States. We all have loss and intergenerational trauma from which to heal.
• Be a rebel leader for equity. Take an active stand against injustice within our own families, schools, communities and workplaces. Intervene in situations where racism is being ignored or minimized even when doing so feels uncomfortable and puts our relationships with other white people at risk. Ask questions — in meetings, in schools, in neighborhoods — even when it feels hard or uncomfortable. Here are just a few examples of questions we need to ask:

How is racism operating in this place right now? Who is benefiting from the current structure?

Whose experience is being centered? Whose is being marginalized?

How will this decision impact different racial and cultural groups?

Are the people who are experiencing the greatest harm at the decision making table?

From whose perspective is this story being told? Whose perspective is missing and how can we ensure that all groups are represented?

Who has power in this situation, in this community, and what can we do to redistribute power more equitably?

Who is determining the standard (of behavior, practice, or success) and does it reflect all of the racial and cultural groups in our community?

If there are few people of color in my workplace, neighborhood or school, why is that and what action can I take to create more access and more equitable conditions?

• If you live in a safe and well resourced neighborhood, find out how much affordable housing is available and advocate for more. If you live in a neighborhood that is racially segregated, find out why that is. Confront the reality that WE (white people) created the neighborhoods that we consider “bad” — through restrictive housing covenants, systematic disinvestment, and resource hoarding. There is nothing natural or neutral about large swaths of our communities living in poverty with limited access to resources including affordable housing, safety, fresh air, quality schools, healthy food, and transportation. The safest neighborhoods don’t have the most police officers, they have the most resources.
• Find our white sisters and call each other in when we misstep, are undereducated, or cause harm. Lean on each other for support and push each other to continue to learn and grow our leadership as white co-conspirators for racial justice. This is our work to do with and for each other — women of color are not responsible for educating us or making us feel better about ourselves.
• Support the leadership of women of color. Build mutually supportive and trusting relationships across race and have explicit conversations about how to be a partner and co-conspirator. Remember that true solidarity means caring about someone enough to receive and give hard feedback. Doing so productively across race takes time and practice. When leaders of color are not in the room, in the meeting, or in the loop, take responsibility for naming who is missing and find out why and speak up for the interests of people of color.
• Talk with your children and other young people about racism and teach them a complete history of whiteness, race, and structural racism. Ensure that your children learn about people from whom they are different racially and culturally beyond the oppressions they have suffered. Help young people develop critical consciousness and agency to make change. Support the leadership and advocacy of young people who are ready to lead the way.
• Reflect on all of the ways that the lie of white superiority and the myth of our separateness means that we all live in a world that is less healthy, more dangerous, less kind, and less sustainable. Our human fates are linked — if one part of our human ecosystem suffers, we all suffer. Likewise, when we care for one another, we all benefit.
• And finally — VOTE like our lives and future depend on it — for local, state, and national leaders who believe in and stand for the dignity and value of every human being.