Doing the Work of Unraveling White Privilege

This morning, I noticed that I was feeling all amped up inside. The last several days of hearing the news had finally caught up with me and I was on edge. The news of the riots, the righteous anger of the black community, the looting and the violence, the killing of yet another black man by a police officer, not to mention the fear of what this all will do to the ongoing pandemic we are in has left me overstimulated and overwhelmed. When everyone has such strong opinions and when human justice and decency is on the line, I feel things very deeply. It can be easy for me to lose track of how I really think and feel. There is also a ton of advice out there about what I, as a white person should be doing to unearth the forces of white privilege in my life. I keep hearing, “Do the work,” but I can’t help but wonder how do I do the work? What does that look like for me? If I take on all that is suggested, I know I’ll burn out quickly. It’s hard to know what’s mine to do when I’m surrounded by such a cacophony of loud, passionate voices.

Yesterday morning I reached my limit and I knew it was time to practice some silence in my life, to reconnect with the perspective of Christ in all of this, and to sift out my emotions and my thoughts. Undergirding the swirling thoughts and emotions was a nagging question, “What should I do?” I turned off my phone and went outside to my backyard to get away from the noise, to breathe, and begin sorting through the internal mess. I let the thoughts come. I asked myself how I felt. I listened, and acknowledge all that came up, and began to feel reconnected to myself. Then, quieted down for a moment, shifting my focus to the presence of God in all of this. I began looking for his perspective and direction.

As I listened to myself, meditated on Scripture, and allowed the silence to speak, an idea formed and it became clear to me what my next right thing is and how I can make a step, however small it might be, towards justice in our world.

A little background

My family and I moved to California a few months ago, right before the pandemic hit. One of the major decisions I really struggled with, and continue to struggle with in light of life with COVID-19, is how and where to educate our kids. As I listened for God’s direction, what came to mind was this ongoing struggle I have felt about how to educate our kids, and what kind of schooling we should choose for them. I’ve gone back and forth about homeschooling options, and the option I really want (a free charter Montessori education) seems to be a closed door to us, at least for now.

My main struggle revolves around the fact that we now live in a mixed neighborhood. As white folks, we are in the minority. My idealism says that this is a very good thing. For a while now, I’ve believed that it would be good for us to immerse ourselves in a community with others who are not like us, who have different cultural backgrounds and different ways of thinking. I want for my kids to make friends with all different kinds of people, not just people who think and act and look like them. The problem is, I don’t have a lot of practice with this. And so it feels uncomfortable for me to actually live out these ideals I claim to hold. So, honestly, I’ve been making excuses for why we shouldn’t be at our neighborhood public school, backing away, looking for ways to make this situation more comfortable. With the possibility of a continued pandemic, I’ve begun to consider homeschooling.

How Doing my Work Unearthed the Subtle Influence of White Privilege in my Life

What came to light as I examined this particular issue is my own lingering biases and my own contribution to the racial gap. While I “believe” that racial inequality and injustice is very wrong and I was educated about white privilege many years ago, I now see how I still fail to live this out.

I hate to admit it, but what I realized in that moment is that I’m afraid of what my white friends who live in white, gentrified suburban neighborhoods will think about us keeping our kids in the local public school. Shouldn’t we be doing better? Shouldn’t we be trying to give them the best education they can get? Won’t they think less of us?

There’s nothing wrong with trying to give your kids a good education, and we certainly don’t want our kids in a bad situation. But for the 3 weeks they attended the neighborhood public school before the pandemic shut everything down, they were very happy. Their teachers and administrators were great and they were making friends. They were having a very good education experience. But still, I had this nagging feeling like maybe we were offering them less than what we should.

What I realized is that this situation was unearthing a racism and classism problem I still have. Despite my ideals of social justice and racial and economic equality, when it comes down to living real life, I still live with a quiet bias. A quiet fear of people who are different than me. And a quiet arrogance of social status and race.

The Insidious Nature of White Privilege in our Culture

And while I fully own all this, I can also see the insidious ways our white dominant culture is set up to reinforce my fears and biases. Our culture, and even church culture, has promoted the value of upward mobility and individualism. We are encouraged to climb higher and higher on the social ladder, to get ahead as much as we can, to get the best education for our children, to make more money, to have the bigger, nicer house, in the best neighborhood, to become the best we can be! It all sounds really great, until you realize who you’re stepping on to get to that next rung on the ladder.: the poor and less advantaged, who often happen to be Black and Brown people. And the greed and individualism that drives this never ending climb also keeps us from leveling the playing field. We don’t want to help the disenfranchised because we think it means less for me. We must reckon with the fact that we can’t and maybe shouldn’t have it all. There’s a cost, something we must give up. Which completely rubs against the grain of the great American dream.

This subtle but powerful combination of greed, individualism, and need for status, keeps white people (keeps me) looking up, at the next thing and who has more. It keeps me in a cycle of feeling like I never quite have enough. This always looking up, to the next thing, the next rung on the ladder, breeds shame, a feeling of being less than, so I think more about myself than those around or “below” me.

What I have learned as I’ve listened to my black brothers and sisters, my own heart, and the voice of God is that the values and ideals I aspire to hold, the things I know are right, clash with the cultural values ingrained in me. They are so insidious that I haven’t even realized they are operating. And now, I face a choice, as does every white person who does their work. Will we continue to cling to our “cultural values” and stay comfortable, or will we give up our comfort, and maybe a bit of our ambition, to look around and love our neighbors? To love the oppressed? Will we choose love over selfishness? Will we choose the kingdom of Jesus over and above the kingdom of this world, of our nation, despite the cost?

Choosing Solidarity & Community

As for me and my household, I now I know exactly what I’m supposed to do. I’m choosing to live in solidarity with the black, Hispanic, and white people of my community. It’s a small but significant step, but I know what I need to do. I need to keep my kids in our local public school, living in community with the variety of people in our neighborhood. I’m going to live in a little discomfort so that maybe, somehow, I can come to understand and love my neighbors better.

The ability to choose to homeschool next year is a privilege and yes, it’s still tempting to choose to hide and distance myself from the realities that children less fortunate than mine will face in the Fall. But that is no longer what I want to choose. I choose love. I choose discomfort for the sake of community, for the sake of learning how to live with people who are not like me and to raise them up in whatever ways that I discover. That is my next right thing.

And so what about you? How will you do the work of unraveling white privilege in your life? I hope I’ve offered not a prescription of another thing to add to your life, but a glimpse into a process you can use to engage your own work. Get quiet. Listen to what’s going on in your own heart and mind. Listen for the voice of Love in your life. Notice what areas in your life God touches as a way of inviting you to live differently. Unravel what’s going on underneath for you. And choose. The choice is yours. The choice is free. But I hope you choose love. I hope you choose to follow the One who is Love and who can heal our broken nation, person by person, step by step.