I’m a queer and transgender nonbinary person. I’m also a white person. I have faced discrimination but not because of the color of my skin. Just by being white I have privilege over non-white people because the systems I navigate every day were created for and by white people — specifically white men. And despite hating the systemic racism in this country, I acknowledge I benefit from it. I’m working to change this, and if you are white, you should too. Many white people celebrate Black History Month by honoring and uplifting Black people and their voices, but white folks need to be doing this every day, year round. Being anti-racist shouldn’t come with a slim window of opportunity or an expiration date. And it definitely doesn’t come with a guaranteed thank you, nor should it.
The privilege of a white person when fighting for a marginalized group, specifically BIPOC, is in the fact that we get to choose to be an ally or not. And the fact that we actively choose to not perpetuate attitudes and systems that contribute to racism shouldn’t be celebrated; it should be expected. We shouldn’t post positive stories about Black people or lament injustices because we want to be seen as an ally. We need to share the stories of Black people because their stories are worth telling. Yes, that may signal that you are working to be anti-racist, but that doesn’t eliminate your biases or get you special seating at the ally table.
Our work can be done quietly and without public visibility leading the way. Much of our work as true white allies comes in the form of taking responsibility for what our ancestors did generations ago. We need to humble ourselves to see where we are because of racism in order to really be able to make changes in the systems that favor white folks. This can and should feel uncomfortable. We may think we are innocent because we believe Black Lives Matter, but Black people are still bearing the brunt of those same white people whom we think we are different from.
It can be easy to think we know how to fix a problem that doesn’t apply to us, but being a nice white person who thinks they have the answers to something that is affecting Black folks isn’t actually helping. We need to listen to Black people and amplify their voices without speaking over them or for them. We need to donate money to racial justice organizations. We need to support Black-owned businesses. We need to demand that our children’s school curriculum and history books are not whitewashed. We need to continuously check our biases and ego when someone, especially a Black person, tells us something we said or did feeds into a racist society. We can’t argue that our intentions were good when the impact is hurtful. Again, this is really uncomfortable work at times, but it’s not meant to create white guilt or victims. We can’t make a difference for our Black friends if we don’t first acknowledge at least a small role in their pain.
I understand what it feels like to be a queer person during Pride Month. The overabundance of rainbow washing and tiny portions of sales actually benefiting the LGBTQIA+ community feels performative at best. Queer allyship needs to extend into the other months of the year, too. This is how you need to view white allyship.
Please use February to educate yourself and take in the information and stories that are being so easily and abundantly served. Share articles written by Black people because they know their story better than anyone, and their experiences need to be bumped into our social media horizons. But don’t stop at the end of February. Hundreds of years of oppression can’t be solved in 28 days.
Black History Month isn’t about us, but being anti-racist absolutely is.
I have benefited from my white privilege. That truth doesn’t mean I haven’t had struggles and injustices to face. It means that I have a responsibility to dismantle racism in my everyday actions. It means I need to find ways to make sure there is a focus on equity in my community so that Black people have the same access to services, education, housing, health care, and safety that white people have. I want and need to do these things because it’s the right thing to do, and I’m happy to do this work without praise. Being a decent human should be the standard, not the exception.
