O Readers Share When They Became Aware of Their White Privilege
In the past several months, the rest of the country became painfully aware of what Black Americans have long known: that systemic racism affects everyone—those who reap its benefits as well as those who suffer its atrocities. Though their voices must guide our progress, it’s not Black citizens’ responsibility to fix our national race problem; white people need to look inward, then act outward.
To that end, we asked white O readers when they were most acutely aware of their white privilege—and what, in the wake of thunderous calls for justice, they are doing to dismantle the status quo. Here's what they had to say:
Elizabeth Passarella, 43, New York City
I grew up in the South and moved to New York City after college. In my first few years in the city, I would have defended myself as someone who was definitely not racist, as I had never engaged in any directly discriminatory action or used racist language. I was friends with Black people in school. I loved the Black women who cared for my grandmother. I was exceptionally nice to the Black men and women who served me when I ate lunch at a friend’s country club. When I was in my late 20s, I began to understand the depth of racism in my own heart—how ingrained it was, and how I categorized and justified oppression, thinking I had somehow earned the advantages I had in life. I believed that all people were made in God’s image and equally worthy, but my thoughts and actions didn’t always show that.
I became acutely aware of my white privilege when I began searching for a public school for my oldest child, seeing the inequality in New York City’s education system, based on property values and sliver-size zones, and the entitlement of wealthy and middle- class white parents who revolted when districts were redrawn to include less advantaged neighborhoods. That was eye-opening, mostly because I assumed New Yorkers were progressive, yet when it came to switching their children to a school that was majority Black or Latino, they balked. I have had to fight that urge in my own heart. But what I’ve realized is that even in a school that isn’t perfect (none of them are!), even if my kids went to the worst-performing school in the neighborhood, they would still be fine, largely because they are white. They already have an advantage that they didn’t earn.
Ellen Heuer, 64, Los Angeles
My father was extremely racist and forbade us to watch shows like Julia, starring Diahann Carroll. He’d come into the room where I would be watching, scream profanities, and violently unplug the TV. Today I’m what’s called a Foley artist; I use props to create sound effects for a movie after the scenes are filmed. If someone gets stabbed, I take some celery and break it for bones crunching and maybe squish a grapefruit for the added effect of gore and blood dripping.
I rarely get to view the performance ahead of time and have to make a very quick assessment of emotional content without knowing the story line. When I worked on Twelve Years a Slave, I already had a deep awareness of racism and violence imprinted in my body due to my father’s archaic prejudices and insidious beatings. Even though I was safe inside my studio, Twelve Years a Slave was uniquely uncomfortable due to its long scenes of violence. The lynching...feet dragging in the mud, the sound of the creaking rope from early dawn to sunset...the whipping...so many lashings. The unbearable cries of a young Black girl being raped over and over.
As I worked on those scenes, on some subliminal level I became the slave owner; I was the killer of dreams, the man of power. Having to re-create sounds to marry to this painful imagery week after week caused me to wrap my sessions early and retreat into a dark world of isolation and shame. The truth is, these underlying tensions that came out of years of slavery, oppression, and violence still exist. I thought they were healed. I was wrong.
Beth Cort-Voltmer, 58, New Virginia, Iowa
In a small discussion group for a course I was taking on racism, I described a time when a cop and I bantered back and forth after I’d been pulled over. A young Black man said, “I could not ever do something like that.” We discussed how parents of white children tell them that they may lose their driving privileges if they get pulled over. For a Black family, it’s a totally different conversation—one of life or death.
Sheila Morreale, 51, Franklin, Tennessee
In college as a social-work student, I attended classes that attempted to help us understand our clients’ life experiences and our own individual biases. Back then, I naïvely believed I was different. I only became acutely aware of my white privilege when Trayvon Martin was murdered. I looked at my own sons, who were only slightly younger than Trayvon, and it hit me that I never once had to have conversations with them about what they could wear, where they could go, and how they should react to a police officer if they were approached. It literally wasn’t necessary for me. I remember seeing Trayvon’s parents, grieving and angry. I wept and prayed for them. And yet I knew if that were my boy, George Zimmerman would be in jail—not autographing bags of Skittles and living in some disgusting version of fame. It made me feel embarrassed, guilty, and ashamed of what I had not grasped all those years ago.
Now I’ve joined Beloved Community, a movement in the Episcopal Church that promotes awareness and discussions around racial injustice and inequality. I am participating in a group book study about white fragility. I’m having very open and difficult conversations with my three children. And most important, when I see someone in my community say something belittling or negative about race or gender—be it on social media or in everyday conversation—I call that out. I’m Southern; I have been raised to smile and not cause a fuss or offend. But guess what: I’m over that mindset. If individuals can risk their lives, why can’t I be a little uncomfortable voicing my opinion? I desperately want to be better—for my community, my family, and my country—and I’m trying.
Katherine Isabel, 45, New Orleans
The murder of George Floyd and the ensuing protests drove home how differently I view the police as a white person—that is, primarily as a source of help and protection versus fear and danger. As a result, I’ve decided to try to actively address racism in my workplace (by joining the accountability and inclusion committee at my predominantly white company, which I hope will lead to the hiring of more people of color, especially Black people) and in my child’s school (by writing the administration to ask what steps they’re taking to address racial bias in their educational and disciplinary methods).
Shari Pritts, 44, Dallas
I’m realizing that I can’t just view myself as “not racist” and therefore not part of the problem. That’s not good enough. If I’m being honest, I know I still have a lot to learn and that there are many aspects of white privilege and supremacy that I’m not even conscious of yet. I’ve been making an effort to learn more about systemic racism and what it means to be antiracist. As someone whois pregnant, I’m thinking harder about how to raise my child. Before, I thought that all I needed to do was teach him that everyone is equal and buy toys and books that celebrate diversity. Now I’m becoming aware that I need to take it further, but I’m not sure what that looks like yet.
Marie Sassi, 67, New York City
People sometimes say it is class, not race, that is an issue. But if you are Black, it doesn’t matter if you are richer, smarter, more polished. That hasn’t prevented a future president from being mistaken for a waiter, or a man who’d become U.S.attorney general from being stopped by police when running to get to a movie—and these are just the tip of a very large iceberg.
Jennifer Jones, 43, Indianapolis
In 1996, I was a sophomore at Purdue University. As a member of student government, I was invited to an event at the Black Cultural Center. I was the only white person in a room of more than 100 Black students. Initially, I felt uneasy, and then it hit me: The discomfort I was experiencing was likely how many Black students felt daily on campus. I finally recognized my own privilege of being a part of the dominant culture.
Today we can no longer deny the inequality the Black community is experiencing, particularly at the hands of law enforcement. My parents’ generation has always given the benefit of the doubt to law enforcement. Their mentality was that people don’t get into predicaments with police unless they do something wrong. While I believe most police are good people who want to help others, society will no longer give them the benefit of the doubt, because of the actions of a few bad cops. We must actively identify racist behavior and remove those officers when found.
Katie Nelson, 40, Philadelphia
I’ve always known about racial injustice, but until recently, I didn’t have the language to talk about how I relate to it. White was neutral instead of being a race. My liberal parents taught me that minorities could catch up because of the civil rights movement and that our country was on a path of progress. Now I understand that racial categories are much deeper than that. In a lot of ways we haven’t progressed at all. I now see that I have a race, too, even if I feel uncomfortable about it.
Andrea Sisk, 37, Pittsburgh
I teach middle school. I was telling my students a story about listening to music while taking a walk one night. They told me I shouldn’t do that, especially not with both earbuds in—it’s not safe. I live two miles from them, but I can walk in my neighborhood at any hour of the night and be safe. They can’t walk home from the bus stop in broad daylight and be safe. Lately I have tried to remind myself that every person of color I meet has experienced more trauma than I ever will.
Laura Pickett, 35, Indianapolis
In white-privilege America, when we were in our first car accident as teens and called our parents, we heard something along the lines of, “I don’t care about the car; that’s a material object. Are you okay?” Yet many of those same white Americans are looking at the damage done by a small percentage of protesters and valuing that over the message they are trying to carry. I see race differently after George Floyd’s death. I understand I need to be more active in fighting for racial justice. I was too passive before.
Alexander Landfair, 35, Brooklyn
I see conservative friends of mine take issue with generalizations being leveled against all police, and they speak about what they see as the erosion of individual responsibility. It’s difficult for them to recognize that this is truly a systemic problem. But it’s important to remember that over the past 50-some years, police have been increasingly addressing issues that rightly belong to social workers, mental health workers, and healthcare workers. Police are failing (terribly) because we’re asking them to do the impossible. This is the logic behind the movement to defund the police, which is really about cutting back their responsibilities and investing that money in entities better equipped to meet community needs. I realize it might seem thatI’m talking now about the police—and your question was really about race—but the whole issue is that the Black experience is so intimately and absurdly connected with policing.
Woody Wheeler, 69, Seattle
What am I doing differently now? Well, I took part in one of the Seattle protests. And my wife and I are increasing our donations to civil rights groups like the Southern Poverty Law Center and pursuing the idea of creating a new science and environmental college scholarship fund for people of color to honor Christian Cooper, the Audubon Society board member and birder from New York City who recorded a racist confrontation he was subjected to by a white woman in Central Park. We’re also redoubling our efforts to get out the vote in the next election by writing letters through the Vote Forward campaign, to defeat the current white supremacist regime that plagues our country and incites conflict along racial lines. We financially support a number of Senate candidates who believe that Black lives do matter and support Joe Biden for president, hopefully with a Black, female VP.
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