Opinion: For the white allies, activists, and everyone in between

American activist Peggy McIntosh gave the world the term “white privilege” in an attempt to unpack, in her words, the “invisible knapsack” of “unearned” privileges that white people are inherently equipped with that people of non-white races cannot access due to their race.

McIntosh then lists 50 examples as to how, as a white woman, her race is not a detriment to her navigation of society. She notes how, for example, she “can go shopping alone most of the time, pretty well assured that [she] will not be followed or harassed” or how she “do[es] not have to educate [her] children to be aware of systemic racism for their own daily physical protection” or how she “can be pretty sure that if [she] ask[s] to talk to the ‘person in charge’, [she] will be facing a person of [her] race.”

Her essays on privilege theory have been widely cited and circulated not only in academia, but in American culture in the past few decades. Today, you’ll commonly hear about white people “checking their privilege” or “recognizing their privilege.”

Privilege, privilege, privilege. All this talk of privilege and about white people, apparently, finally coming to terms with racism. Political correctness here, political correctness there. Diversity training, diversity workshops, diversity boards, diversity classrooms, diversity coffee shops, diversity iPhones, diversity linens, diversity gifts. Everything today oozes in diversity and correctness and inclusivity!

“So, how could we still be dealing with racism in 2020?” says either the well-meaning white ally who routinely says things like “It’s a privilege to be white! We need to wake up and realize that we benefit from our privilege!” or the person of color who’s fed up with having to continuously explain their experiences with white people like they’re an audio clip on an endangered species at the Smithsonian.

So, with the existence of white privilege, political correctness, and diversification efforts, why do white people still call the cops on black people in the park? Why do white cops always feel “threatened” and “unsafe” when in a situation with black people who may or may not be harmless? To follow that, why when black people are visibly secure in police custody, do white officers continue to use unnecessary force on people who are, at that point, harmless and simply fighting to stay alive? Why do white people feel that they have the authority to drive up on black people and kill them because they believed they had committed a crime? Why do white people feel they have the authority to walk into a predominantly black church and shoot up the place because they want to spark an all-out race war?

Before I make my point, I would like to address the “Not all white people” society.

It seems that the people who say “Not all white people” the most come from a place of genuine, raw, and bone-chilling fear. The kind of fear that has been putting white people in a chokehold over the past few decades. The fear of being labeled a racist.

The point that the “Not all white people” society try to get across is that while they are not explicitly excusing white supremacy, they are trying to ensure that the “good” white people do not get coupled in with the “bad” white people. They may say things like “But, I’ve never seen racism where I live” or “I don’t see color” or “I have 42 black friends and one’s from The Bronx” or “My aunt’s coworker’s niece’s best friend’s 4th cousin’s dog Max has a black coat, so I can’t possibly be racist because I love him!”

They stress the fact that while they are white, they do not hold racist beliefs, so therefore, they can’t be racist or be complicit with racism. Essentially, the “good” white people are either not racists or don’t show it while the “bad” white people do. While, yes, every white person isn’t a white supremacist neo-Nazi skinhead, that doesn’t mean that non-Klan robe-wearing white people cannot be racist or complicit with racism. If anything, the belief that a white person is immune to racist actions based solely on the notion that they don’t think they’re capable of being racist based on their appearance, their lifestyle, or their background, is one of the major issues when discussing the role of white people in racism.

Take Amy Cooper, the white woman who called the police on Christopher Cooper, a black man, in Central Park.

Amy Cooper may or may not have been a racist, but she surely did commit a racist act against Christopher Cooper. Did she call the police on a black man who was clearly not harming her the way she made it seem? Yes. Did she intentionally act out her Oscar-worthy “innocent white woman in distress” character to the police, hoping they’d believe her and handle Mr. Cooper the way other black men are usually treated in situations like this? Yes. All on video? Yes. Is she a racist? Who knows, she says no. Did she commit a racist act? Yes.

Her holding racist views had little to nothing to do with the situation. She very well could’ve been a registered Klan member or a neo-Nazi behind closed doors. She could’ve also just been a regular person walking her dog without a racist bone in her body. Whether or not she held racist convictions isn’t the important part. In her own words, telling CNN, “I’m not a racist. I did not mean to harm that man in any way.” The honesty of that statement is up for interpretation.

Ms. Cooper believed that her status as a white woman in society granted her not only the authority and the social “innocence” to trick the cops into believing her lie, fully knowledgable of the Emmett Tills of past and present day who have been slain on just the words of untruthful white people, and her confidence in the white supremacist-laden justice system, even as she was recorded on video for evidence.

She did not care if she was recorded. She could’ve easily tried to do her dirty work before Mr. Cooper began recording, then walk away or cover up her act as she realized she was on video. But, she persisted and continued her lie. She believed that, no matter what evidence he had against her, the police would believe her “plea” for help because she was the classic “innocent white woman in distress,” especially at the hands of a black man. She believed that law enforcement would handle him the same unjust way it handled and continues to handle black men, regardless of the severity of the crime, if a crime was committed at all.

The reason why her own personal racial convictions aren’t the crux of the issue is because any white person, no matter their views on race, can do what she did, if they so please. Any white woman (Yes, you too Ms. Ally) could easily call up their local police when they see a black person and perform their very own rendition of the “innocent white woman in distress”. Any white man (Your dad, your coach, your brother, you, all of you) can do their favorite number from the “concerned white guy in the suburbs ‘looking out’ for his neighbors” repertoire for the police. Even your favorite “woke” white teacher who has a black spouse can do it too.

Ms. Cooper didn’t have to don white robes to illicit a response and carry out her racist actions. Ms. Cooper didn’t have to explicitly proclaim a love for the white race or shout the 14 words. She was just a white woman in the park on Memorial Day morning who called the cops on a black man in Central Park. She was just an “average” woman, certainly not appearing to be a hate-filled person.

So, what’s all the fuss?

White people, regardless of identification, affiliation, association, class, etc., are all capable of inflicting social, political, and/or economic harm on people of color, regardless of the target’s identification, affiliation, association, class, etc. White people are all capable of being racist and being complicit in racism by virtue of their whiteness, as it was manufactured to be so. The level of harm depends on one’s access to social tools (e.g. political, economic, and social access), but harm is harm, no matter how big or small. Whether you’re a Klansman from rural Mississippi, a tech startup CEO in Silicon Valley, a lesbian restauranteur in New York, a football coach in a small town, or a high school student in the suburbs, you are capable of causing harm to the people of color around you, intentionally or unintentionally.

In short, just because you don’t think you can because you don’t wear a pointy white hat, frequent Stormfront, or follow Richard Spencer doesn’t mean that you can’t do racist things.

Got it? Back to my point.

White privilege is this “invisible knapsack” that white people apparently have. Now that every white, liberal, NPR-listening professor has graciously passed it on through their classrooms and society ate it up, white allies cannot get enough of white privilege.

“I have privilege…”, “We need to use our privilege…”, all meaning well and attempting to highlight white complacency in racism in the United States. However, white privilege is a double-edged sword and most white people who use the term proudly do not see or understand the consequences of its usage.

First, the very term “white privilege” is dangerous. By using the word “privilege”, it creates a system in which it is not only a privilege to be white, but it is a detriment to be non-white, doing more harm than good. It creates a dialogue where darker people are burdened with their skin tone or their hair texture or their facial features because they are not privileged enough to have “white” features.

Second, the notion of white privilege is incredibly superficial. White privilege only requires white people to “acknowledge” their “privilege”, not constructively act on it for the betterment of society. Just because a white person knows of an apparent privilege they have, doesn’t mean they will do the right things with that knowledge. Many, like Amy Cooper and Derek Chauvin, the officer who nudged his knee back and forth into the neck of George Floyd as he pleaded for air to breathe, abuse it.

They know that they have a status in American society as white people. Cooper knew she was a white woman and tried to use it to her advantage. Chauvin knew that he was a police officer, a white one at that, and felt that he had the authority to constrict a black man’s air despite pleas from bystanders and the man himself to ease up and at least let him breathe, only to lie about his aggressiveness and resistance to arrest. He knew that similar instances had happened in years past and that he, like the white officer who got a slap on the wrist for killing Eric Garner, could’ve easily gotten up to let him breathe while still keeping him in custody, but he chose not to, knowing that whatever happened afterwards, he likely wouldn’t be criminally penalized.

While well-meaning white people proclaim that they are fighting for change and encouraging other white people to do so, know that the reason why your white friends and family members are resistant to racial change is because they know that they benefit from this racial hierarchy and are fearful of its critique because a critique on the system they benefit from is a critique on themselves and their own choices as to why they are complicit.

So, what do we do? What do white allies do?

Depending on your level of access to power and influence, you, as a white person, have the capability of recognizing complacency in your own communities. You have access to the cops, the judges, the lawyers, the politicians, the businessmen, the educators, and all of the other people that have influence, no matter how great or small.

Don’t just talk with them, invite them places, take them to marches and to community meetings. Take your friends, talk with your friends, talk with white people who disagree with you. If they refuse or don’t want to tag along, take that knowledge. Ponder why they don’t want to or why they’d refuse.

If you talk with your family about racial events (which you should), question them. Press them. Bring up evidence. Cite authors and experts, chiefly of color. Back your claims. Make it personal for that person. (Constructively) criticize them. Bring up examples in their lives and “what if” situations. Have those tough conversations. Argue, scream, cry. And do it all again, over and over again, not just when a racist incident happens.

Why? Because families of color have been arguing, and screaming, and crying, and having tough conversations their entire lives. We’ve had testy generational discussions about racial progress and what to do about it. We’ve had “the talk” about how to act not just around the police, but around every white person, no matter who they are or how close we are to them. We have no choice, but to be on the front lines.

And no, the front lines aren’t just at the march. Our front lines are in our homes, at the store, in a park, at school, at work, at church, on a plane, on a bus, on the field, on the court, in court, in the North, the South, the East, and the West.

It’s your turn. Be an ally with your chest. And when it gets ugly, when the police make arrests, when your job is on the line, when it gets scary and inconvenient for you, don’t run away and hide under your white blanket. Stand with the people you claim to love and support, because they have no choice to run and hide.

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