It’s not my fault
I didn’t invent slavery. I wasn’t there on the plantation. I’m not even from the South.
But I benefited from slavery. It kept white people in charge, and my white family never experienced the trauma of seeing proud Confederate flags and Robert E. Lee statues on display, despite what those images represent.
I wasn’t even born in the 1930s. I hadn’t even heard of redlining until 20 years ago. It’s not my fault Black people were prevented from buying homes because the government decided their neighborhoods were risky investments for banks. It’s not my fault they weren’t able to invest in their own future by owning the land on which they lived.
But I benefited from this, because my family were all able to buy homes, and those homes became investments in our future. Later, when I bought my first home, it was in a gentrifying neighborhood, and it was from a Black woman about to go into foreclosure. I benefited from redlining.
In the 1980s, I was just a kid. I didn’t know anyone doing crack or cocaine. It’s not my fault the prison sentence for crack (a primarily poor Black drug) was 100x stricter than the prison sentence for cocaine (a primarily rich white drug), even though the drugs are from the same plant. It’s not my fault that this led to millions of young Black men in jail, effectively enslaving them and forcing them to leave their families behind.
But I benefited from the “war on drugs,” because cops were so focused on arresting young Black men that they let me go when, at the age of 19, I ran a red light with 6 people in my Chrysler that reeked of weed.
I’ve never worked for the electoral system or any government. I’ve never been a poll worker. I’ve never had trouble voting. It’s not my fault thousands of Black voters have trouble voting. It’s not my fault their names are removed from voter rolls, or their polling places close early, or they’re given the wrong ballot, or their state doesn’t allow felons to vote.
But I benefited from voter suppression because it didn’t happen to me. This meant that I never once questioned my ability to participate fully in a democracy.
I had a Black girlfriend once, M. She came with me to my aunt’s restaurant in upstate New York. We sat at the bar. She got some dirty looks. I didn’t notice. She felt unsafe. I didn’t notice. As we drove away, she told me what she experienced. We almost broke up because I simply didn’t get it. We did break up, eventually. But I wasn’t the one giving dirty looks. It wasn’t my fault.
Right?
Wrong.
I benefited from never knowing how she felt. In fact, I benefit every day from feeling safe almost everywhere because most people⏤especially those in power⏤look like me. I benefit every day from not being followed around stores or having my resumé ignored because of my name. I benefit every day because my professional qualifications are not questioned due to my race. I benefit every day because there are grocery stores with fresh produce in my neighborhood.
I benefit every day because I’m not killed by the police at a 2.5x higher rate.
I benefit every day because I’m white.
Slavery was not my fault, but I benefited, so it’s my responsibility.
Redlining is not my fault, but I benefit, so it’s my responsibility.
The war on drugs is not my fault, but I benefit, so it’s my responsibility.
Voter suppression is not my fault, but I benefit, so it’s my responsibility.
What happened with M was not my fault, but I was ignorant, so it’s my responsibility.
I didn’t invent these (or any of the many other) systems of inequality. But I benefit from them. Therefore, it’s my responsibility to help dismantle them.
Here are some of the ways I’m personally working on this:
I’m still educating myself on systemic racism and how I can be actively anti-racist.
I’m holding conversations with others who are ready to take action towards racial equity.
I’ve talked to my 9 year old son a lot about what happened to George Floyd and some of the ways Black people are systemically disadvantaged in our country.
I recently hired a new assistant and was intentional about searching for and interviewing Black candidates; the candidate I hired is amazing and a great fit for my company.
I set up a recurring monthly donation to Brave Space Alliance, a social services organization serving Black and Brown queer people in Chicago’s south and west sides.
I’m being intentional about referring and amplifying Black voices in my network.
It may not have been my fault, but it’s my responsibility. I am complicit because I benefit.
For white people, racial equity is all of our responsibility. It’s unreasonable to expect those who suffer from our systems of white supremacy to do the work to dismantle them.
If you are a white person reading this, how are you going to take responsibility? How are you going to consistently, proactively support Black institutions, Black people, Black businesses, Black equity?
Want more ideas for what you can do as an individual? Get ideas in your inbox every day by subscribing to Nicole Cardoza.
For what you can do as an organization? Read this article (and take action) on corporate best practices from Dr. Erin Thomas.
We have to start. It may not be our fault, but it’s our responsibility.