A White Guy in a Race Conversation

It is with great timidity and trepidation that I write what I am about to write. I realize that for far too long, people who look like me, (aka a white, heterosexual male), have invaded others’ spaces. I am of the race of conquerors, enslavers, and genocidal rulers. People who look like me have done a lot of damage in the name of “progress” or even worst, “Christianity.”

It’s not only this, though. Too many times when people who look like me show up and try to be “woke” we end up continuing in our paternalistic enterprise. We ignore the voices of the marginalized; we act as white saviors who are coming to save “those poor people.” Often we plagiarize the works and thoughts of those from the edges of society, gaining fame, wealth, and power through “our” breakthrough insights.

Too often people who look like me show up late to the game, after having benefited from the exclusion and oppression of the other, and reap all the benefits while furthering our own agenda and continuing systems of patriarchy, racism, and ethnocentrism.

Because of this I shudder and pause before writing, before speaking out, but in the end my heart and soul are drawn into this arena between the races and ethnicities. I know that my brothers and sisters of other experiences, backgrounds, and cultures have a lot to teach me, especially when it comes to teaching me how people like me benefit from our privilege, and that those benefits come at others’ expense. I want to be part of the solution, and I want to speak and write and work at this calling, but I also want to be sure that I do not perpetuate the injustice I am attempting to counter.

So here are a few efforts I am going to take to ensure that I don’t do exactly what people like me have done for ages. I invite and encourage feed back. What am I missing? How is my privilege getting in the way? Who am I not giving credit to for the thoughts I am expressing?

Photo by James Eades on Unsplash
  1. Cite my sources – Even though it is a blog I must vigorously cite those whose shoulders I stand on, especially those of color. I can’t take for granted that people know the influences that are living within me. Additionally to not cite is to steal their thoughts, their insights, their blood, sweat, and tears. I will do everything in my power to elevate their voices.
  2. Check my privilege – I will strive to question every objection I have to the voice of others. I know that I have centuries of privilege flowing through my veins, and that privilege can easily and unknowingly come to the surface when I least expect it. I have realized that my initial qualms and objections to the thoughts and insights of others melt away when subjected to scrutiny.
  3. Let love guide – This may sound glib, superficial, or saccharine, but I mean it as truthfully as I can. My desire to work as a white man in the realm of social and racial justice comes from my love for those at the margins, the oppressed. And while I work with and engage with thoughts, philosophies, and theologies, there will be disagreements, both of form and function. That is the nature of life, but those disagreements must come from love, and I offer my counters in love and from a place of relationship and solidarity with the oppressed. And I hope that any challenge or difference that is heard can be heard in love and as nuanced and, in most cases, non-essential.

I’m sure there is more that I should be doing, more that I should be saying. So I invite your insight. How can I, a white, cis-gendered, heterosexual male, live, work, think, and write responsibly at the intersection of culture, race, and stereotype?

Thanks in advance!

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