I write a lot about how we can elevate and practice racial equity in the planning profession and in creating more inclusive, thriving communities. Yet this week leaves me feeling utterly gutted. Next week no doubt I will get refocused and recommitted to action, but this week cannot pass like it is any other in my life. As a white woman from Minnesota who still calls the Twin Cities home after not living there for 23 years, this is a week for hard truths and heartache.

Tense protesting in Minneapolis as the community responds to the killing of George Flloyd by policy (Photo: New York Times)

It has been three days since the murder of George Floyd by Minneapolis police officers with ensuing protests, tear gas, looting and arson. Twenty-five days since white men armed with assault weapons stormed the Michigan state capitol without any police action taken against them. Three months since the murder of Ahmed Abaury on Feb 23, 2020 by white men in Georgia. And three days since the white female racism of Amy Cooper in Central Park almost cost Christian Cooper his life. This is only the most recent of the most well-known examples of racial trauma in the USA.

Let us be enraged about injustice but let us not be destroyed by it. –Bayard Rustin

Think of how much trauma every single day our colleagues and friends of color have to live with in the United States of America. There is the trauma of all that happened to them over the last 400 years, with frequent reminders displayed through cinema, or Confederate memorials, or white supremacy rallies. There is the trauma of all that happened in their youth and in their family. Likely they or someone they love suffered from policy brutality. They suffered / suffer from “every day” racism either physically, emotionally, or both. There is the undeniable truth that no matter how much education you get, how much money you earn or how nice your home you will be devalued by all markets be they financial, employment or housing. There is the reality that no matter how kind and involved you are in your community or in your church the mere act of being black means that others will perceive you as a threat, especially if you are a man or even a boy. There is the fact that as a black mother you cannot dream the same dreams for your child that a white mother can, and that you must live in fear. You must teach fear to your children and strategies to navigate the fear of being black, of navigating the culture of whiteness. And you face the reality that you are likely to live a shorter life and face greater health risks to a multitude of diseases. Your life is inherently viewed as dispensable to the society in which you live. You are invisible, except when you are seen as a threat.

This is so much damn trauma. I can write about it, and can catch glimmers of its weight and burden from my friends of color as they share what it means to them personally. But I will never fully comprehend it all and that is white privilege. I benefit from it, even when not intentionally perpetuating it and that is white privilege.

Despite the stories, despite the data, despite the history that is clearly written or playing out in front of our eyes — the vast majority of white people refuse to see and acknowledge these truths. Why is this? Are we truly so fragile, so selfish and/or so insecure? Is it knowing that which makes us pretend, or be blind, or be cruel?

Where does it all lead? More deaths, including of some white people. Looting or destroying businesses, regardless of who owns them. More anger, ironically the most long-lasting is white anger that takes shape in policies, prejudices, and continued devaluation of non-whiteness. I am waiting to see this play out in Minneapolis now as it has time and again throughout US history with Jim Crow after reconstruction, or the “War on Drugs”, or welfare reform, our criminal justice system, or white flight.

Is it any wonder that people of color may feel little recourse other than to take to the streets? To let their anger manifest itself in destruction. Our institutions repeatedly fail them because they were designed to do just that. Is it any wonder that drugs and alcohol may so strongly take root when the despair you feel is timeless? And now we see with the Opioid addiction that this response is not limited by race.

Racism is not held by only one political party. Yet, it is striking that one party has so many more people of color than the other. This creates problems on both sides. For the GOP, it is easy to dismiss and amplify prejudice. For Democrats, it is easy to feel superior which itself is paralyzing against honest truths and necessary action. This is America.

Hand over the experience you thought you were going to have, to the one you need to have. - Odetta Macleish White

Being a white woman in this America is a weird, unsettling place to be. We have so much to give and contribute. Many of us are now coming into our own after fighting gender bias and sexism. Yet we also do a lot of stupid stuff. The majority of my white sisters do not see their own role in perpetuating racism, nor recognize what racism costs us all. I only have a clue by the good fortune to work with people of color that have honored me with their stories and their truth, and to have been provided racial equity training through my work with SPARCC. I finished Dr. Ibram Kendi’s “How to be an Antiracist” right before COVID19 fully struck and was jarred with the reality that race neutral is a myth, whether in policies or our own personal lives. Through this all, it is embarrassingly obvious that racism and my role in it were always there to see if I made the effort to look.

I recognize my female whiteness. I live in a safe white neighborhood just outside Richmond city limits presumably built on a former plantation, developed during Jim Crow and then expanded in reaction to Brown vs the Board of Education. White privilege afforded me the opportunity to buy a home here so that my sons have access to good neighborhood public schools. My friends on the East Side work just as hard and care just as much for their kids, but their blackness meant that their labor, their credit scores, and their opportunities for wealth creation were devalued which shows itself in the quality of their local schools. Yet in this new COVID age we are all living with the consequences of being in the same school district where online learning is extremely limited given the grossly unequal digital divide, economic and health impacts that we share across neighborhoods. White privilege makes me feel outraged and inconvenienced, whereas my East Side friends feel overwhelmed and scared.

Just last week I was confronted with my own racist complicity in not more forcefully standing up for a colleague of color. It was too easy for me to raise the need to engage her as an equal partner and then accept assurances from white institutional voices that they were doing that. I failed to go the extra mile that racial equity requires. I failed to honor her truth. I own that, yet also see this an opportunity to forge conversations that need to happen in order to change deeper processes.

I am tired of saying I am sorry. I am tired of feeling ashamed. Both are so inadequate. Yet I do not know how to most effectively move forward to counter the overwhelming forces of racism. Its weight on everyone of us is unbearable. My actions feel insignificant. And the fact that it is a choice … when and how I intervene… is such a sign of white privilege that my actions themselves sometimes feel cheapened.

Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed if it is not faced. - James Baldwin

Some days I am ready to lay it all down. To yield the field. Other days I want to fight like hell. What I have at least learned is that when opportunity arises, I must speak my truth to other white people especially when it is uncomfortable. We white women need to own our flaws, biases and acts of racism without excuses. I find it makes us stronger. We are wise to follow women of color for they are smart, kind and tough (often more so than us). We all must elevate our shared humanity. It is a cliché, yet true that this is so much bigger than any one of us, so we must embrace and build community.

In this work, People of Color will lead us forward, and white women must be their allies. Despite 400 years of trauma, Black Americans continue to show what hope, courage and resiliency truly look like in practice. They refuse to stop forging brave conversations, organizing for justice, and lifting up the needs of their beloved community. There are so many people of color who inspire and lead us, and I am grateful to have worked with several.

Just to name a few that today I turn to for hope and inspiration:

Solana Rice and Jeremie Greer who created Liberation in a Generation to close the racial wealth gap and transform the economy.
The Salzburg Statement on Confronting Power and Privilege for Inclusive, Equitable and Healthy Communities - drafted by a group of incredible female leaders from across sectors and races, many of whom I am fortunate to call friend and mentor.
Stephanie Gidigbi, a fierce and faith-filled climate and environmental justice warrior who uses every opportunity to remind all of us that racial equity must be our national north star.
And Leslé Honoré, a Blaxican artivist from Chicago’s southside whose poetry has brought me to tears, and whose strength shows me the power that is possible when we women bring our full selves to this work.

The work never ends until injustice ends. This is daunting, but it also means we never lose the opportunity to learn, to grow, and to bend. We must remind ourselves that each of us has power, and to use it wisely. This white woman is going to try her best, and seek forgiveness and honest counsel when I fall. I’ll get back up.

Addendum: Gratitude to those who shared these resources with me as follow-up to my blog so that we can move collectively towards being anti-racist white accomplices through concrete actions.