I’m Not The Good Anti-Racist I Thought I Was
Confessions of a reforming cookie-seeker…
When it comes to race issues, I saw myself as ‘up there’ with the most progressive white people. I come from a working-class London background, so growing up, my neighbourhood and schools were racially mixed, as was (to a lesser extent) my family. The London of my youth was hugely influenced by a combination of US hip-hop culture and Jamaican sound system culture, which I revelled in. I’ve always consumed arts, culture and products created by people of colour, and I’m not new to learning about race issues. One of the reasons I still live in London — despite the pollution and obscene house prices — is because diversity feels like home.
What you just read was what therapist Resmaa Menakem would call my ‘racial résumé’ — or at least, the condensed version (I could have got into some specifics and name-dropping, but I’m trying to balance a reasonable word count against my ego).
When I first heard Menakem explain that term, I flinched. I realised that ‘rolling out my racial résumé’ — particularly around people of colour — was something I had the urge to do pretty often. At that point, I didn’t quite understand why or what the impact might be.
Since then, I’ve done some studying and reflecting (all still very much work-in-progress). I’ve learnt that another term for this behaviour is ‘cookie-seeking’. And it’s a close relative of ‘performative allyship’ or ‘ally theatre’.
In summary, what we’re talking about here is white people wanting others — especially people of colour — to know about our anti-racist beliefs and actions.
A key question we (white people) need to ask here is, ‘Why?’
Finding out why means keeping that résumé in your back pocket. It means shutting up for a bit. It means not hitting share on that social media post yet. It means staying with the urge and noticing what else arises. It means probable discomfort.
Often, the first explanation a white person might come up with is something that seems good. Something like, ‘I just wanted them [the person of colour] to know I was on their side; I wanted to make sure they felt safe.’
If you read or listen to anything by people of colour about this type of behaviour (I’ve linked to a few examples already), you’ll find that, in general, it’s not something that’s viewed positively and it’s not conducive to safety.
Now that we’ve straightened that out, let’s dig a bit deeper.
Here are what I see as the main reasons for cookie-seeking:
- To gain approval, popularity or acceptance.
- To feel like a good person.
- To release stressful feelings about race issues.
- To be a better anti-racist than other white people.
It could be all four reasons at once — perhaps to varying degrees. They’re all a little different, but they kind of overlap. And they have one thing in common: They’re all about us. In other words, they put white people at the centre.
This is problematic, as white-centring is one of the foundations of a systemically racist society. You can’t overcome something with more of what created it in the first place.
If we’re putting ourselves at the centre, it means that fundamentally, we’re taking, as opposed to giving or sharing.
Have you ever been around someone who is trying to take from you? I’m not talking obvious stuff, like stealing your purse. I mean in more of a visceral (some might say energetic) sense. Perhaps you noticed they were trying get your attention or approval. Perhaps they were being emotionally needy. Perhaps they kept talking over you. Sometimes it can be subtle, but you know when it’s happening, and it doesn’t feel good to be around. It feels like you’re being ‘pulled’ on. It feels draining.
This pulling dynamic is something that happens in human relationships often, but bring race into it and you have a whole other dimension.
Historically, white people have taken from and used people of colour in numerous ways. Colonialism and Black slavery are the oldest and most obvious examples, of course. Examples from the last century include the British deploying Black and Asian soldiers during World War 1, and then bringing Caribbean citizens to the UK to fill labour shortages after World War 2. These have all left their legacy, but if you want more current examples, consider cultural appropriation or white people asking people of colour to educate us about racism (despite the abundance of resources already out there).
Cookie-seeking is about wanting rewards. Yet, white people already tend to get all the credit and rewards, including when it comes to fighting racism. The proliferation of white saviourism in society — most commonly in charity work and film narratives — exemplifies this. We also see it in historical narratives, eg Wilber Wilberforce being celebrated as the hero who ended the British slave trade, when Black resistance played a key part. More perversely, when British slavery ended, it was the white slave-owners who were compensated.
This pattern of white people taking and being rewarded needs to be considered alongside the many other manifestations of racism (some obvious and some less so, such as daily microaggressions). It all adds up. People of colour have been telling us for years that they’re tired. Cookie-seeking only increases the burden.
One reason for cookie-seeking, as I’ve mentioned, is to be a better anti-racist than other white people. This is something else Resmaa Manekam talks about: the hierarchy and competition that emerges amongst white people when they’re left alone to confront race issues. I experienced this first-hand during a recent all-white anti-racism workshop. I found myself feeling angry with the other participants. I judged them and tried to set myself apart by focusing on anything and everything from my aforementioned racial résumé.
This links with white exceptionalism — something it could be argued that the British Empire and America (and therefore capitalism) were founded upon. I’ve been infuriated by the exceptionalism that has underpinned the British Government’s actions in the last few years. However, recent learnings have exposed my strong reaction as projection. Much as I’d rather not admit it, this trait is an aspect of my shadow self.
It’s not only about exceptionalism. My wanting to be a better anti-racist than other white people also involves perfectionism. I’m sure I’m not alone here. And perfectionism is another characteristic that has been associated with whiteness. This is an avenue I’m in the early stages of exploring, but seeing as perfectionism is fear-based, oppressive, shaming and dehumanising, it’s pretty clear that it’s incompatible with genuine social justice or liberation. For white people, confronting racism inevitably means confronting our own failings, so it’s not hard to see how perfectionism is an obstacle. In addition, anti-racist work is full of contradictions for white people, so finding some kind of ultimate ‘rightness’ or ‘best’ is a particularly futile aim. (It’s worth noting here that as a perfectionist, I’m cringing at the thought of publicly airing my racial failings in this article, as well as sharing learnings and reflections that are far from fully formed — but that’s also why I’m doing it.)
So, let’s say that, like me, you’re a white person who’s realised you’re prone to cookie-seeking behaviour and that paradoxically, it’s well … racist. What next?
Fundamentally, cookie-seeking is a strategy we developed to overcome a sense of not being or having enough in some way. Beneath it lies feelings such as shame, self-judgement, helplessness or loneliness. Some of us may feel these more often or strongly than others, and there may be past events or trauma that have played a part.
The problem is, such strategies are either based on false beliefs that stem from childhood (eg ‘if I do things perfectly, I’ll be more loveable’) or they’re a stress response (ie designed for an emergency, as opposed to activism). According to Resmaa Menakem, white supremacy itself is a trauma response.
The mind alone cannot help with this stuff. Regardless of whether we’re dealing with a needy inner child, a stress response or part of a bigger, cultural trauma response, the underlying reasons are rooted in our bodies. I’ve learnt that through experience. More recently, I’ve realised the mind alone is not effective in addressing racism either. Perhaps it’s not surprising that intellectualism and disconnection from the body have also been associated with whiteness.
Any attempt to change or heal also needs to involve the body. Awareness is the foundation (that staying with the urge to cookie-seek I described earlier). Depending on the individual, steps taken after that could include stress management tools, books, workshops, coaching, therapy or something else — as long as it includes a somatic angle.
This perhaps shouldn’t need pointing out, but we’re grown adults. That means it’s our responsibility to take care of our baggage, so we’re not dumping it on people of colour. This taking responsibility is part of emotional maturity in general. However, it’s also a condition (and just one aspect) of anti-racism.
Doing all this inner work could be construed as white-centred. And there’s a risk we could do all the work, overcome the urge to cookie-seek and yet still make it about ourselves — our own development and our own ability to be an effective anti-racist. Yet, if we try putting people of colour at the centre, we realise there’s a reason that’s much bigger than us. I’m finding that’s the real challenge. It’s another level of maturity. And it’s a life-long practice.
