Dear Rhonda: A Confession of My Racism, to my Childhood Black Friend

Dear Rhonda,

I’ve been learning a lot about privilege. White privilege. Black privilege. Privilege.

A while ago, I did not know white privilege existed. A few weeks ago, I had not considered the idea of black privilege. There is a lot to learn, much ground to be made up in the way of understanding the myriad of the black experience and why black people feel the different ways in which they undoubtedly must feel. I am learning I can make up that ground, and so can my fellow whites and non-black people of color;  it’s not too late, and it’s not too hard, but it requires discomfort. It requires humility. It requires repentance. And it requires forgiveness from our black friends, forgiveness we do not deserve… forgiveness that we can only be given because Christ Jesus, a man of color, secured it on a cross so long ago.

Ramesh Nagarajah writes about black privilege, in his piece Reflections From a Token Black Friend, he teaches me much and causes me to reflect on you, my own token black friend from childhood, as well as my other token black friends from college and seminary.  I think about how much I have and have not learned from you and others, all dependent upon myself and my own stage in life- my own emotional, spiritual, and mental development or lack thereof… how much I was enabled to listen and be humbled, and how much I was able to accept rebuke, caring rebuttal from loving, black people, who though token to me, where never token to God or to this world. Never. Not at all.

Nagarajah teaches me, “Why was I able to be so successful? …. I am an exception. I held leadership roles in the school, was an accomplished athlete and student, and went on to what was, at the time, the best public university in the country. What’s easily overlooked, though, is how my circumstances differed from the average student of color coming from the city. I came from a two-parent household. My mother was able to work from home our entire life, so she could take us places when we needed. Compared to other black families, we were relatively well-off financially, which afforded me a car in high school and thus allowed me to be highly involved. I had a stable church and home life and food security. This combination is uncommon for a young black kid in America.”

His testaments remind me of how I used my friendship with you as a litmus test to declare myself to myself: NOT racist. Rhonda, I am sorry. You were my fellow cheerleader, my black best friend, whose life resembled mine completely when we were at school, until it didn’t, and I was left puzzled. Only now do I realize the racism laden in my shock when you would do black things like hang out with the black kids, or stop being the only black cheerleader on a white squad to do other things with black kids. Why would you do that? I thought. You were so smart and talented, and you could be friends with all of us if she wanted. Why venture off to a peer group of people of color? Weren’t we enough? What did they offer you? I was ignorant, and I take my shame to Jesus now.

At least I was smart enough not to say these things and hurt you, although I realize now that my silence on a great many things like even acknowledging that you were black probably hurt you. I’m sorry. I am sorry I never said anything. And I am sorry I thought the things I thought.

Why do I write these things now? I write them not to assuage my guilt, but to educate people who are like me. And I write them to validate you.

White friends, have you thought this? Why would our token black friends go to black colleges? They could go to ANY school they wanted. They are so smart! Why pick those schools, where only black people go? Or when they choose to marry people of color, do you wonder, why are they marrying a black person? They have dated white people? Are not their lives going to be harder now? Why choose that? I wondered these things- the thoughts of a racist woman. I did not realize I was racist. I realize now, and that is the only reason there is any hope for me.

But why did it take me so long to realize I was racist? Why can’t we listen to their experience and the pain of our black friends without silencing them? Why can’t we consider that we could possibly BE part of the racism problem, or that it even exists? Why can’t we admit the thoughts we POSSES but would never say out loud? Because it threatens us; that’s why. Because it exposes us. Because it tells the truth, that we are racists, and we must change.

Truth threatens our identity as good people, NON-racist people, and we desperately have to cling to the hope that we are NOT racists because our identities rest in our sense that we are good. We are devoid of true belief in a real Gospel of grace that pins our worth in Christ Jesus and Christ’s righteousness, a righteousness outside our own and our merits. Thus we desperately NEED to believe that we are NOT racist, and listening to how there could be something that we have not considered and SHOULD learn means, therefore, that perhaps, we are broken, and we can’t be broken. We NEED to be right, in and of ourselves.

What if, however, we accept that by virtue of the sovereignty of God we have been born into a certain class of people that was afforded a privilege and the right to consider what comes natural to them as normal? What if we can admit this, knowing it doesn’t make us inherently MORE wrong at our core than anyone else; rather, it makes us WRONG at our core, just like the rest of the human race…just like the Scripture we claim is infallible tells us we are. These truths just are truths. These truths mean we are white. And white is not BAD. It is WHITE, but white needs to have her eyes opened a bit, and white needs to understand that the black brothers and sisters are not telling us we are EVIL, they are asking us to listen and see ourselves at their level…the level of HUMANITY that God has placed ALL of us at. We only become EVIL when we refuse to listen to them. Being white and born into racism was not our choice but remaining racist most certainly is.

Marley K. brilliantly explains how all white people are born into racism and remain racist until they are willing to stand up and recognize their racism. I will quote her extensively because she states it better than I can, and because she is a black voice, and we have listened to white voices too long. We need to listen more to black voices. She writes,

“First, learn what racism is, and what it’s not….White people [need] to understand that all White people are racist. Admit it, and let’s move onto the business of repairing and healing the country. We can’t do it without you. Yes my dears, all White people are racists. All. Of. Them. Here is where you stop to cry, clutch your pearls, rant and rave aloud to tell me how wrong I am, and to tell me not all White people. I’m doing reverse racism … and you’re ready to do tit for tat with me and every Black person on the internet (because you’re too afraid to say this nonsense in person) on how terrible Black people are. I have [fill in the blank White person savior activity here], so I know I’m not racist. I don’t say the N-word; I go to church with Black people, and I even go to lunch with the Black lady/guy from my job. I have a biracial child. I date Black women/men.

My husband/wife is Black. I work in an all Black [fill in the blank setting]. I am not racist. I’m liberal. I voted for Hillary. I use #BlackLivesMatter hashtags. I have a Black friend (that I never talk to about race).

 

[But] you can’t help you were born to racist parents, who were raised in a White Supremacist system. You can help with tearing down the racist systems and structures that support you and kill me and my sons based on flawed science crafted by flawed White and European people. White people admitting they are racist is necessary for those individuals desiring to do something right now….Racism got us into this mess. Anti-racism is the only thing that will get us out of it. It’s been 400-years. Y’all can’t keep running from yourselves.

 

All White people are racist and the fact that you need a special out like a “Not All White People” label is disheartening because it says to me you are racist, but you’re in denial about it. To me this kind of white person is most dangerous kind of White people I know and I just don’t have time to play games with you all anymore. They are so busy dodging responsibility they can’t see the obvious racism in needing an exception to the rule. There are no exceptions to racism and White people. You’re born into that gang. Now is the time to show that Black lives matter. It’s time to show us any lives matter besides a White one.…I need you White and White passing people to understand that a White person or non-Black person of color unwilling to admit their inherent anti-Blackness is not an ally, but an enemy. You cannot fix what is broken unless you admit to yourselves you’ve been raised and taught by racist parents, who raised you in racist systems and white spaces to give you the best chance of making it in a White world because they knew how bad it was being Black.

 

Period. I don’t care where you are in the world, everyone knows they don’t want to be Black because White people have taught the world Black people are bad despite them needing us to survive. … Just read our first Constitution. If America and White men weren’t racist, they would’ve never stipulated we Black folks were property and not people. The Constitution stipulated White men had rights and that Black men had none. Own it.….All White people are racist because racism starts at home. And even if you’re not raised racist, America’s systems make you choose sides. It’s always easier and more comfortable siding with racist. Own it. Racism starts at home. Racism helps grooms the person you grow up to become.

 

This means these White people must realize their parents and grandparents are likely racist. This is the reason I believe most White people and POC can’t help that they are racist. They were born to become racist and taught to be racist.

 

Being racist to me is like a generational curse. It’s like being born with an addiction gene or some other genetic defect that alters your entire life until you learn to live with it and control it.Racism is also like an addiction. It makes you addicted to power, money, social status, and a system that favors you…But know since the day you were born that your Whiteness comes at the expense of my Blackness, because that’s how the system is set up. Own it so that we can move forward.

 

We don’t need or want your kind of White people around us who cannot admit they are racist because they are incapable of dealing with the collateral damage of the moment. … White people and non-White POC living as White who cannot acknowledge these truths are saying they don’t want to relinquish the power and privileges assigned to their places in the social/racial order set by White Supremacy. Embracing that means that you also embrace mistreating me, taking from me and my children, separating me, and making my pathways more difficult so that you may have pathways that are smooth paved with gold, or titanium. Racism makes life easy for White people. It’s not right. Although you may be racist, you don’t have to stay that way. No one has to be racist. Racist is a choice. –(Marley K., Yes My Dear, All White People are Racist, emphasis added).

 

So it is true, my fellow whites, we are ignorant, but we don’t have to be.

 

Ramesh Nagarajah gives another personal testimony, and his words prick my heart. Will you listen with me? Will you be moved beyond your own need to be good and holy and not racist? I know it is hard. I get that. I am there with you, but there is room at the foot of the cross for us both…

 

“Most white people do not understand their level of ignorance — especially the good ones, who mean well, and that negligence is part of the problem. Many of the white people I know have no concept of the role they’ve played, passively or actively, in perpetuating these conditions. They have no idea how much we long to hear them speak up for us and to embrace some of the discomfort around these issues with us. Furthermore, the good ones are oblivious to the level of overt racism still out there.

 

I have been among my white friends each time I’ve been called “nigger” by a stranger. And every time, my white friends seemed shocked. They had been misled to believe that kind of overt racism only happened in the past (or in To Kill a Mockingbird). Comfortingly, they always verbally leaped to my defense, and the savior complex within them encouraged them to seek retribution. In one vivid case, at a bar in Cape Cod, after I’d just finished a conversation with a friend, one guy, not realizing I was still in earshot or aware of my relationship with this friend, came over to him and asked, “You really talking to that nigger?” My friend was stunned but immediately came back at the guy, his anger for me visible. He then came to me, boasting that he has black friends as if that should warrant him a pass.

As much as each situation ruined my night, everything after went well, and I was embraced by a group of allies who wanted to fight for me when they heard that word. I had no further reason to be upset. Yet, probably only the friend who walked ahead of the group with me knows I cried my eyes out the entire walk home, unable to explain how that word garnered so much control over me.

The problematic result of these overtly racist situations is that good white people feel liberated from any responsibility concerning the privilege, structural racism, and implicit biases that do not make them racist themselves, but that they do benefit from. This moment is one of the first times I have felt it was not only okay but encouraged to share these things. If there is one thing every token black friend knows, it is that we are not to provoke serious discussions of racial issues among our white crowd. We should only offer an opinion on such matters when invited to do so by our white peers. Further, we should ensure that the opinion is in line enough with the shared opinion of our white friends, as to not make it too awkward or ostracizing.

 

It doesn’t need to be, and shouldn’t be this way. Many of us are eager to share our stories, and we have been waiting for the invitation to do so. I am comforted when I see white people call things out for what they are. When my friends and I rented a 16-passenger van for a New Year’s Eve trip to Montreal, we found ourselves held up at the border coming back. The older agent, surveying the passengers, asked how we all knew each other, to which we answered, “We all went to high school together.” The officer then followed up by singling me out, “And how do you fit in here?” What he was suggesting about my place in the group of all white guys was telling enough, and the guys I was with were quick to support me and point it out to their parents when debriefing the trip once we arrived home. If only they knew how often I’d experienced situations like that one. White people should know that we need more conversations about little things like this. It’s not our job to heal the world, but if we can start by getting people to question small interactions and beliefs, we can begin moving toward progress. Recent events present a unique opportunity to begin conversations that have been waiting to happen for far too long.

 

To both black and white people, I’d write that understanding is a two-way street. To my white friends, I’d tell you that while that’s true, white people have a longer journey to get to where we need to meet. It is time for white people to muster the courage to call out those comments you hear from your parents or uncles and aunts. The pass has been given for far too long, and every time you don’t speak up, you enable far worse words and behaviors. For those of you who think an old dog can’t learn new tricks, I’d point to the numerous white adults who have texted me this week noting that they have been in their bubble for too long, and asking me to keep sending them content. It’s time to pop the bubble,” (Nagarajah, Reflections From a Token Black Friend, emphasis added).

So Rhonda, in closing, I have not much to offer, but a broken a contrite heart, that I hope you will not despise, but would completely understand if you did. I promise to listen, Rhonda. I promise to be different, to be something more than what I have been, to make myself less than what I’ve made myself in my mind to be. I pray you are well. I pray you are happy. I pray you are blessed. I trust God that you are because you were always so kind. You were patient and kind to be my friend, to be all of our friends, though we undoubtedly inflicted more pain on your than we ever realized. I praise God for your friendship and for everything you taught me, even when I was not able to listen or learn. Having known you, I am changed. And I learn still today as I reflect on our friendship and who you were, and who you inevitably have become. God bless you dear friend, as I trust God has because God saw you in all your beauty long before I ever did… God saw you when your white friends did not. God always knew of the splendor you possessed and the gift you were in and of yourself, given completely of God’s free grace, bestowing on you beauty and righteousness as a black daughter of our Mother/Father God who is a myriad of colors. Praise God for you, Rhonda. Praise God. I am sorry, so sorry. And thank you; honestly, just thank you.

Love, Megin