White People Leading DEI Work
“Once whiteness is made familiar, then it must be made strange. No longer able to disguise itself as normative, whiteness becomes peculiar once it is located.” — Dr. Zeus Leonardo
“Should you be leading this work?”
The question isn’t always posed with sincerity. Sometimes it comes with the of rhetorical “gotcha” meant to expose some sinister ulterior motive. Importantly, it’s almost always asked by someone who identifies as white.
I used to tense up. I used to feel the need to justify to anybody why I was talking about ending white supremacy; why I was talking about whiteness at all. I used to worry I was in violation.
I used to.
When asked by a French reporter about the Negro problem in America in the 1940s, author Richard Wright famously responded, “There isn’t any Negro problem; there is only a white problem.” In the following decades, James Baldwin expressed a similar analysis of the root cause of racism. Baldwin often spoke of the toll whiteness took on those of us who accepted the label. He explained, “As long as you think you’re white, there is no hope for you.” While white folks flocked to see “I Am Not Your Negro” — the 2016 documentary film about James Baldwin — and many wax poetic about their love for Baldwin, very few white people accept the fundamental truth of his argument. I’ve heard many white liberals quote Wright, teach Native Son, and heap praise on Black Boy while totally ignoring the indictment explicit in Wright’s analysis of race. This call for white people to take responsibility is not relegated to the past. Writers like Ta-Nehisi Coates, David Roediger, Noel Ignatiev, and Zeus Leonardo have all pointed out the need for white people to turn a critical eye inward today. The truth that we who are white so skillfully sidestep is that whiteness is the cause of racism and its eradication is our responsibility.
That is precisely why we should be leading this work — in our schools, communities, and the nation at large.
People of color have known that racism and white supremacy say more about white people and whiteness than they have ever said about people of color. They’ve also had no choice but to engage in resistance to and the dismantling of white supremacy. White folks, on the other hand, have always had a choice to stand up to systemic racial injustice or just let it be. As Mahmoud El-Kati puts it, “Whiteness is a moral choice.” But too many of us choose inaction and silence when it comes to holding other white folks and our systems responsible for racism. Too many of us hide behind colorblind ideology; hide behind wanting to keep the peace; hide behind our own guilt; hide behind the idea that it is not our place to step up for equity and inclusion. None of these responses are acceptable. Plain and simple, it is the responsibility of those of us considered white to understand what being white means in our socio-political context, how it positions us in society for unfair advantage, and then to act in ways that erode its foundation so we can build something better.
It’s true that those of us who identify as white can never know racism in the ways that people of color do; but we can and should develop deep knowledge of the ways whiteness and white supremacy have shaped our culture and lives and how we move in the world. With this knowledge, we can and should step up to help reshape our communities into diverse, equitable, inclusive communities. Indeed, democracy, justice, and morality require that we engage in this antiracist work.
Longtime antiracist educator Jane Elliott developed a remarkable thought experiment that illustrates the absurdity of the white community’s collective indifference toward understanding the white racial reality. In her workshops, she asks white participants to stand up if they would be happy to be treated in the manner our society treats Black people. When no one stands, she articulates the obvious conclusion: We are aware of the violence of white supremacy and we clearly do not want it for ourselves. This simple insight creates such astonishing dissonance for white participants in Elliott’s workshops — as, indeed, it should for all of us who are white. We realize that, while we have never thought of ourselves as racialized, we always have been. Knowing we don’t want to be Black means we clearly understand the benefits of being white. We also understand that whiteness has allowed us to frame the world as racially neutral.
When we know better, we must do better. And because we are on the inside, included under the umbrella of whiteness, no other group is so perfectly positioned to dismantle systemic inequities and reshape cultural perspectives, and otherwise work for an inclusive, just society. There is a certain power that comes with an “insider” speaking out. This is especially true when those insiders are talking to others on the inside. We cannot and should not be talking to communities of color about the ways racism manifests. They know. But we can and must talk to other whites about the way whiteness damages all of us and why we must shift our investment of time from supporting whiteness to creating racial solidarity.
There is a certain arrogance embedded in whiteness. It believes that those of us who identify as white have been so thoroughly conditioned that we will never push back. It believes we are so incapable of cutting through the dissonance and acting on our values that it can rely on the flimsiest of rationalizations for allowing whiteness to thrive. Most important, it believes it has so thoroughly disconnected us from the rest of humanity that we would never be able to act in solidarity with communities of color. Nothing could be further from the truth. When we understand whiteness for what it is — a toxic worldview created to divide working people and guarantee the wealth of a land-owning class (and its modern equivalent) — we are able to move in the world differently. As we operate differently we develop genuine relationships across lines of difference including relationships with people of color who can hold us accountable for using our positionality and privilege in service of a more just world.
When we consider just how vulnerable whiteness and white supremacy truly are it brings hope. Whiteness becomes even more vulnerable when another person who identifiesas white stands up and resists — or, better yet, accepts the responsibility to lead this work. The truth that Baldwin and Wright articulated is that, in our racially inequitable society, the work of establishing equity is white people’s work.
So where do we start? What are the steps we can take? What does the work look like? Here are five action moves you can do to interrupt whiteness in your own lives and work.
1) Develop a self-study routine and regular practice.
Examining our upbringing with an intention of mining our racial development is incredibly important and foundational to developing a healthy sense of self. Try writing a racial autobiography. In it, consider such questions as: What was the racial makeup of my neighborhood? What was the racial makeup of my friend group growing up? When is my first memory of being white? You can also reflect on traditions, practices, and/or artifacts that have been passed down to you through previous generations. Ask yourself: what is the origin of this particular tradition/artifact? What is the significance of this custom?
2) Read. Read. And read some more. I can’t overstate this.
There is an abundance of knowledge out there that has been intentionally marginalized. Seek it out. Read as much as you can about race, racism and whiteness. Find other people doing the same and talk about it. Create meaning. Produce knowledge. It will manifest in your thoughts, words, actions, and beliefs. (Teaching While White’s Foundational Texts is a good starting point.)
3) Make yourself uncomfortable.
Do this literally. Go somewhere, do something where you are uncomfortable because of your race. This does not mean go pop up on a group of people of color and expect them to teach you all about race and racism. It does mean go to a different grocery store. Get off the interstate and take the side streets. Sign your kid up for that karate class or sport league that interacts outside the boundaries of your suburban neighborhood. Notice how your body reacts, sit with it.
4) Revise your curriculum.
I remember the first year I didn’t have to start from scratch with an annual plan. It was amazing. I felt like I arrived. Here’s the thing though, I still needed to take a critical look at my curriculum and make it stronger. We all do. You already know that, I’m sure. But this action item requires, in addition to any other changes you make, that you look at your plans through a race-conscious lens. In particular, it challenges us to weed out whiteness. Ask yourself, how many examples of white antiracism do I introduce? How much of the human spectrum do the people of color I introduce represent? What voices aren’t present? Where do students teach me? Based on the answers, ADJUST YOUR PLANS!
5) Seek out accountability.
This is difficult for educators. Often, we conceptualize accountability as a trap, as an opportunity for administrators to find fault with what we do. I get it. Teachers often feel under attack, and evaluations and structured conversations on effective teaching can be hot-button issues. That’s not an excuse to avoid this step. The fact of the matter is that young people are in front of us every day and we are charged with doing right by them. And, as the adage goes “The eye can’t see itself.” We need others to observe us, give us feedback, and hold us accountable to implement that feedback. Ask a trusted co-worker to come to your third period and look specifically for how much wait-time you give to the Black students. Ask a manager to pull your discipline data and audit for any discrepancies. Join the PLC or whatever committee is discussing evaluations and advocate for equity indicators to be included (and to properly fund related professional development!)
You may have noticed many of the suggestions are not specific to classroom practice. That is true. Here is a bonus action step that explains why:
6. STOP LOOKING TO CHECK A BOX!
In a professional development session, the best educator I know, a Black female, urged the room full of mainly white teachers to embrace the messiness of equity work. Embrace the reality that true equity is not prescriptive. Context, and relationships, and so much else goes into every single aspect of equity that it is impossible to provide THE protocol. Sadly, in this instance, that advice was missed; one of the more respected teachers in the room responded by asking for “the things to do.” I get it. We take the responsibility of teaching equitably seriously. Remember, then, that equity is not just what you do; it is how you do it. It is a way of being. The most important equity work we do is to elevate our way of being so that we can take leadership in the struggle to dismantle white supremacy. Because, again, this is our work.
Ryan Williams-Virden has taught in district, charter and private schools, and now serves as the Dean of Students at Hiawatha Collegiate High School in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Ryan has a Master’s of Education degree from the University of Illinois, with a focus on Diversity and Inclusion.