Last week’s blog explored some initial thoughts about what it means to lead responsibly as a straight white male in our culture. I shared some questions I’ve been asking myself for a long time. This week I’ll explore what I call the “inner work” of taking responsibility in a world that favors people who look like me. First, a story.
Back in the late 1980s, I was a consultant in my first year of a new job. My boss got the flu so he sent me to New York in his place to facilitate an organizational restructuring process for a client. To say I was nervous is an understatement. I was in the back seat of a cab en route to the client’s office, poring over my notes and trying to reassure myself that I was prepared. But, the cab driver, who was a black man about my age, wanted to chat. “What do you do for a living?” he asked. I felt annoyed and gave him a curt answer, “Consulting.” He pushed, “What kind of consulting?” Again, I tried to keep it short, hoping that he would get the hint. “It’s called organizational development.” “Ah!” he answered. “You’re an OD consultant.” I wondered how he knew this term but looked down at my notes. No luck. He pressed further. “So, what kind of project are you working on here in New York?” I tried to answer in terms I thought he might understand, “I’m helping a company reorganize.” Without a beat, he responded, “Oh, so you’re probably drawing on the work of Galbraith and Mintzberg. Is your client considering a matrix structure?” I looked up from my notes and could see him grinning in the rearview mirror. I closed my notebook, smiling for the first time that morning and asked him, “OK, who are you, and why are you driving a cab?”
It turned out my chatty cab driver had earned a master’s degree in organizational studies from Yale. He had worked for one of the most prestigious consulting firms in the world (the same firm that had rejected me after a single interview) and then decided that life in a large consulting firm was not for him. He invested in a small fleet of taxis and got behind the wheel every few weeks to learn more about customer needs. For the remainder of the drive, my cab driver schooled me on many aspects of my work. He was responsible for any success I had with my client that day.
Even after twenty years, I still feel shame when I share this story. It’s a reminder that, despite the fact that I was raised in a home that embraced civil rights and equal opportunity, I carry biases about who is and is not worthy of being my teacher based on presumed race, socioeconomic status, job, and education. Since that day I’ve made it a point to chat with all my cab drivers (and to hear their stories) each of whom has shared a piece of wisdom I’ve held onto.
That said, this straight, white man’s responsibility is first and foremost about self-directed or inner work. Here are some starting points that have worked for me:
Accept that white privilege exists. A favorite article of mine is White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack by Professor Peggy McIntosh. Her thoughtful writing has helped me to understand the ways in which white men gain advantage and power over others when we unconsciously enjoy or consciously perpetuate inequity.
Learn about my blind spots. I have them. You have them. We all have them. Social scientists call them “implicit biases.” Blind spots are unconscious attributions (positive or negative qualities) that we assign to particular social groups. I learned much about this by listening to Krista Tippet’s podcast interview with Harvard psychologist, Dr. Mahzarine Bajani. She has developed a series of online tests on gender and racial biases. I’m a better ally when I’m aware of my implicit biases and their impact on my decisions and actions.
Move beyond guilt and defensiveness. I often feel guilty about the fact that I am advantaged in our current social system. I know that I am a better ally when I move past guilt – when I give voice to my sadness and anger about the inequities that exist in this world. I am also a better ally when I realize that my privilege is not the problem. It’s my complacency and my complicity. Author bell hooks wrote: “We have to share our resources and take direction about how to use our privilege in ways that empower those who lack it.” Moving beyond guilt means deciding I have a role to play in redressing inequity.
Invite discomfort. One sign of privilege is that I get to be socially comfortable most of the time. My views, actions, ways of being are almost always acceptable and valued. Stepping outside of my comfort zone means inviting feedback about the ways in which my beliefs and actions (or inaction) perpetuate inequity. It means putting my body and status on the line to stand with people who seek justice. Inviting discomfort means walking toward that which might feel unfamiliar, confusing, even threatening to my identity or personal interests.
What I have described above is a starting point for challenging white male privilege. Doing the “inner work” represents a commitment to take on my own ignorance, complacency, and complicity. There are also ways in which we can take outwardly directed action. I’ll write about this work in Part 3 of this blog. For now, I continue to invite your comments and reflections.
NOTE TO READER: This three-part blog is a personal exploration about what it means to live and lead as a white man in today’s world. It’s a reflection on privilege, responsibility, and integrity. I hope it will provoke new questions and conversations among my readers. As you submit comments and exchange views online I ask that you do it in a way that begins to create the world we want by extending grace and patience to yourself and one another.
Photo Credit: Tophee
Larry,
Thank you for another engaging post on this important topic. I am currently reading “White Fragility” by Robin DiAngelo and highly recommend it. DiAngelo does an incredible job at articulating white privilege and why it is so difficult for white people to talk about race. I will probably re-read it as soon as I finish the last chapter. It is an enlightening read.
Something I have been thinking a lot about lately is the word “ally.” Those of us who are committed to social justice work use that word as a way of communicating that we want to be a part of creating positive change. However, I have been wondering if “ally” is the role we should be occupying. If I am an ally, that means I am supporting someone else in their work. I am a helper in someone else’s cause. There is a diffusion of responsibility in that word that causes me to pause and reflect on it.
When we think about whiteness as a social structure established to create and sustain a hierarchy of human value then what we are saying is that we want to be allies with those who are not at the top to deconstruct the hierarchy that suppresses them. In other words, we are placing the responsibility for deconstructing this power structure on the people who have less access to power. In her book, DiAngelo makes a comparison to the suffrage movement. Women could not access the right to vote unless men gave it to them. Congress was a white male space, only the white men could change the law and redistribute power. That meant that those who held the power were responsible for deconstructing the system that left others out. They had to take responsibility for creating change rather than supporting those who had less access to social power so they could make the change. Women could not vote unless men gave them the right.
Allies are needed in this work for sure. But what if white people began to thinking differently about their role? Rather than supporting those in their fight to have equal access to power and to ensure racial justice, white people take the lead in deconstructing the system and structures of whiteness that have excluded them. We shift the responsibility for leveling the playing field so that those who benefit from the status quo of the white structure lead the fight dismantling it?
Thank you again for opening this much needed conversation and giving us a space to in which to have it.
Robyn,
First, thanks for suggesting the book, “White Fragility.” Several people have recommended it since I began to post this blog series and I’m looking forward to reading it.
The distinction you raised between being an ally and taking on lead responsibility for changing power structures (that only people with privilege can change) is useful and one I had not thought about before. I’m really grateful to you for enriching the conversation in this way.
Larry
Larry,
I think much of your prescriptions for being a straight white male also serve as prescriptions for being a good human being, regardless of one’s advantages and privileges.
Krista Tippet is an angel helping us to see each other as children with grace, hope, and love.
Onward!
greg
I agree Greg. I would add that most of us think we are being “good human beings” each day while our choices or the things we walk past (because we can) have unseen and unintended consequences for others. So, I think this particular work is more than declaring victory because we try to be good. For me, it’s about becoming more conscious (the inward work) and also more active (the outward work).
— L
Yes, very well done Larry, thank you – and thanks Robyn for your thoughtful comments. For some suggestions about how to design the questions that encourage these conversations, there is a chapter in my new book, published by Robyn (Politics, Dialogue and the Evolution of Democracy: How to Discuss Race, Abortion, Immigration, Gun Control, Climate Change, Same Sex Marriage and Other Hot Topics) specifically directed at organizing dialogues on prejudice and privilege.
Ken – You are certainly an important teacher in my world and I’m thrilled to learn about your new book! Thanks for lending your voice to this conversation.
Larry, thank you for your posts in general and these last two. I found them very, very helpful and such a good reminder about what people like me take for granted. Keep these coming! Stories and advice like you are sharing here is more needed than ever! Warm regards, Gayle
Glad you are enjoying these Gayle. Please share with others if you think it’s helpful.
These are important and courageous posts on your part, Larry. I deeply appreciate your honesty in sharing so that we all can learn. These are things that I have been thinking about much more consciously, and these posts and links are helping me contextualize and be more concrete in taking steps to learn. Thank you for being great.
I appreciate your post Josh and your acknowledgment that this is something you’re working on as well. The writing has challenged me to hold myself accountable in my own daily noticing, how I use my voice, and what I choose to walk past.
Two days ago I was in a hotel lobby in DC. Two white men, one holding a newborn in his arms were laughing and talking very loud and making jokes about “faggots.” I was sitting on a sofa two feet away from them. Then I heard a whisper in my ear: “What does your silence say about you?”
I stood up, approached the men, and introduced myself. I tried to smile. I explained that it was difficult for anyone in the lobby to avoid hearing their comments and that they were dehumanizing to anyone who is gay. I turned to the man with the baby in his arms and asked: “She’s already listening and watching you closely already. She’ll want to know that you love her no matter who she becomes in terms of sexual identity.”
I realized I was starting to lecture and was not smiling anymore. So, I just wished them a good afternoon. I don’t imagine I changed anything but I could not endure my own silence. Was it the right thing to do? I’m open to others’ reflections on this.
Larry,
Thank you so much for your honesty, self-awareness and courage. The story you share is poignant and motivates me to examine my own “ignorance, complacency and complicity.” I am grateful.
Thank you Larry. Looking forward to part III. It’s so easy to get bogged down in one’s on thoughts on all this, and feel stymied into inaction. Guilt is a great immobilizer that keeps us from changing. Sometimes I think I’m just waiting for a great moment and opportunity to show I’m evolved and a good ally, a good person, but I know it won’t just fall into my lap. Change is something to be pursued and will most likely involve some sacrifice. And that’s scary from a comfortable position. Who gives up power voluntarily? I admire those that do.
Nancy, I share the guilt at times and also the “waiting” for the big moment of opportunity when I can demonstrate my values. Every so often they come along. But I also think it’s an exciting challenge to be alert to smaller, more subtle ways we can show up.
Larry, I love the way you think and express the fantastic struggles of being human in a world which often favours with impunity. There are so many layers to privilege and your thoughtful exploring encourages us to think “what do we intend?” as a point of entry to thinking and being more conscious and deliberate in that being. Thanks my friend.
Thank you Michel for being an important part of this conversation. I love the question you pose — “what do we intend?” and I think it invites a second question — “what are the impacts our conscious and default actions have that might not be consistent with my intentions?” These questions really challenge us to take stock and at times be receptive to truths that might disturb us.