Why I think you should you read – Why I Am No Longer Talking To White People About Race?

In the aftermath of George Floyd’s death, like many, I wondered what should I do. I don’t believe I am a racist, but with the amplifying of the black experience all around, was that enough? On media, news and social, I heard the challenge to get myself educated, to learn more about the black experience and history; and to do it myself, not expect the black community to spoon feed me.

This lead me to “Why I Am No Longer Talking To White People About Race” by Reni Eddo-Lodge. I downloaded it on to my kindle, sat in my comfy chair and started to read; and I have to admit I struggled, I am not a great reader of history ancient or modern, and while I do value and enjoy personal development books with hindsight I kind of like them to tell me what they think, and be able to draw out my actions from them, based on what resonates. This was different, the whole narrative was not about giving me ideas on what I could do, but just giving me information and data on not only the US but also the UK, my home, making me aware of events that happened not 50 years ago in a land far, far away, but on my doorstep and most definitely within my adult lifetime. It was for me to read these, to absorb these and decide if I still felt that things were ‘OK’ in my world or not. That meant paying attention to text and data in a form I am generally not engaged by, I was outside my comfort zone before I had even gotten to the actual challenging context. Progress was slow to non existent.

Then the universe brought me up very short in the shocking and upsetting way it can. We got news that my foster brother Michael had passed away. Michael (as he like to be called in his post 30 years, but Mickey as he always was when we were kids), was a fixture of my childhood, my Mum having looked after him as a small child at the children’s home she worked in: The ‘older brother’ that came to stay with us each school holiday, who sat on the end of the bed with me Christmas morning opening presents, who ate so much chocolate Easter morning he would often be sick before lunch, who let me play with his toy cars if I was ‘good’ and who drove the pre-teenage me round the bend playing the same ‘stupid’ Stranglers songs again and again in the stereo in the lounge until finally my parents brought him some headphones! The gentle, caring man that I came to know as an adult and with whom I had some weird and wonderful conversations sat on our sofas over the years; including a few about not only his experience of growing up in the care system, but also about his experience of being black in Britain. With hindsight not many of the latter, I think to a point he tried to protect us from it, not to trouble us with his experiences that didn’t bear resemblance to our own.

So I hope, beyond hope, I am not and never have been racist, but was that really enough, did that really make any difference or was I just tutting and shaking my head at ‘others’ while living in my cosy, not too challenging world of white privilege? And while Michael’s death had been health related rather than anything to do with BLM, maybe it was a sign, a bloody great miserable, unwanted sign; that I had spent the last 40+ years not paying attention to an injustice that was right in front of my nose, that impacted someone in my family that I cared very much about.

So I tried a different format, audio book, read by the author herself, and I made some progress.

It was shocking, not just in its content, in the facts and stories that it told that I had either never heard or never really understood, but also in the reaction it caused in me. I am ashamed to say a number of times in those first few days of listening I felt like saying “But you don’t understand”, which of course Reni did perfectly, it was me who did not; me that was trying to excuse and justify treatment and behaviour because “it wasn’t necessarily meant….”. Me that spends my work days focused on outcomes, that was in this situation, completely able to consider that a lack of bad intention was important, despite the fact that the outcome was still an environment of inequality of treatment, opportunity, and so naturally outcomes. Oh yes Ladies & Gentlemen, disappointingly, white privilege is alive, kicking and has a place in my head.

The author’s voice made it more challenging at times as it was obvious from her tone and delivery her feelings on various topics, which in turn triggers my argumentative self; but also it made it more engaging. It made it more personal and I think made me consider at times that if I actually knew this woman, her life and her experience would I really face to face feel that challenging her was right or more profitable than trying to listen and understand.

So what did I learn from Why I Am No Longer Talking To White People About Race? That I haven’t really been paying attention, that despite my engagement in many diversity initiatives over the years my white privilege still allows me to sit in cosy ignorance when if I just looked I would see right in front of me the inequity from which I benefit, and probably most importantly that I need to do more, to step out of my comfort zone and challenge things, because I can and therefore I should. It is not enough to just not be racist, as while that may make me feel better it has zero impact in the work of changing the inequities that exist for black or people of any colour other than white in the UK or many other counties for that matter. If I really want to see change I have to leave cosy, blissful ignorance behind and do something. Be that dealing with a bit of discomfort by tackling some micro inequities that if I start paying attention I can see and hear in interactions with friends or family or at work; things that “they don’t intend/mean” but that nevertheless build to inequitable outcomes. Or be that putting myself, my security, my peace of mind, my privilege “in harm’s way” to challenge a person, a process or an organisation that is (intentionally or otherwise) working to keep alive the system that continues to mean that the colour of your skin has a great impact on the treatment and opportunities you receive in your life. Something we all know in our hearts is fundamentally unfair, and needs to be fixed (but hopefully by someone else because it is all a bit awkward!).

So I think you should take the time to read or listen to this or any similar book on the subject and I challenge you to try and do it without once thinking in your head “But….”. Instead just to listen, to absorb and then decide given what you then know, and feel, what you need to change. Because it is not enough not to be racist, you need to be anti-racist and finally I am getting a small glimpse of what that means, about 40 years too late to have any impact on Michael. My wish for you and the world is that it doesn’t take you as long to come to this realisation as it did me and certainly that you don’t have to lose something so precious before the scales fall from your eyes.