I’m a Nice White Lady

Over the last few weeks, I’ve consumed articles, podcasts, movies, and tv shows trying to educate myself on how to become an anti-racist. But in the process, I’ve discovered I’m simply a nice white lady.

I’ve noticed racism throughout my life but have rarely spoken up, especially if it has occurred in large groups or in public.

I have had numerous discussions about racism, but almost always in smaller circles with like-minded people where there was safety in expressing my opinion.

I have even proudly shared a story with countless people about my parents refusing to join a local country club because they were refusing to admit people of color in the late 1970’s. Instead we joined the next closest option, the Jewish Community Center, despite being atheists. And we were welcomed with open arms!

I have boastfully shared this story numerous times, but now realize there was safety in telling it as well because I was not the one who made the decision. The risk of what others might have thought or how they might have reacted was minimal because I was not the person in control of the decision.
I’ve read books, taken workshops, had numerous conversations with my kids about racism and its impact, but all through the lens and perspective of a nice white lady.

Like so many nice white ladies my age, I was raised to be polite and kind. To accept everyone. To be colorblind.

I attended diverse, urban public schools kindergarten through high school. My parents believed, and I still believe, the social education in school is just as important as the academic education. Choosing a school district with diversity was intentional.

After high school I ventured to a small liberal arts college in Iowa where I met several people who had never before met a person of color. I remember feeling proud of my background, and honestly judgmental of those who appeared so limited in their view of the world. Simply believing that because of my experiences with a diverse community I was somehow elevated and better than those with a more limited perspective.

I’ve always thought of myself as being open and accepting. And still do believe those things about myself and strive to raise my children to be the same!
But I’m realizing that’s not enough. That’s what a nice white lady does, but I’m now longing to truly become an ally.

The oppressive layers in the black community are so thick and heavy that simply opening the door still leaves the heavy lifting on the shoulders of the oppressed. An ally opens the door, walks out to meet them, and then holds their hand as they enter.

So, I will continue to be open and accepting, but also confident and assertive in pointing out racism when it appears in my everyday life. I will be eager to develop deeper and more meaningful relationships with a more diverse circle of friends. I will be determined to consistently check my own unconscious biases and stereotypes. And I will actively find a way to do my part both through acts of service and monetarily to help the black community.

In actuality, this will look like explaining to my kids when they complain about the county-mandated curfew that they too must abide by the rules. The rules are for everyone. And although they are fortunate that the likelihood of them being stopped by the police is slim, it’s purely because they were born white.

And it will look like explaining to my friends when they complain about long lines at the polls during an election that it’s about so much more than a lack of volunteers to work additional polling sites. It’s systemic racism through voter suppression.

It will also be pointing out that they are fortunate they were able to wait in the lines without fear of losing a job or wages. They were able to wait several hours with minimal risk of any consequences simply to vote. One of the most basic rights in our country.

And it will look like educating my 98-year-old Grandmother the next time she refers to someone as “colored” about why the term is offensive.

As I discovered and identified the nice white lady inside, I wrestled with guilt and shame about those words and their meaning. But have decided it’s wasted energy. My energy is so much better spent and productive as an ally. In the wise words of Brene Brown, my journey is not to be right, but to get it right.