As a white person, racism has been trained into me through a lifetime of stereotypes in movies, TV shows, and the news. It is part of my felt experience, living “across the tracks” from the more dangerous and diverse neighborhoods.
There are lots of different definitions of racism, but any worthwhile definition has to include prejudice against someone of another skin color or ethnicity.
While I have prejudice, my racism is much bigger than it. That's why it is so important to note that prejudice is much more destructive when it is perpetrated by a dominant culture.
I didn’t make all of these structurally racist problems happen, but in the end, just by virtue of being identified as white, I stand on one side of this conversation. Because I am white, I can have the luxury of not thinking about these problem and the luxury of not working to fix them. I am complicit to the extent that I benefit from them and to the extent to which I fail to fight them.
My racism degrades bearers of God’s image, even while it distorts my own humanity. It is abhorrent in God’s eyes. And I am guilty of it.
Confession returns me to the humility I need to be able to listen to my brothers and sisters of color. Knowing I am a part of the problem makes me want to press in and keep learning. Knowing the bottomless grace and love of God gives me a sense of steadiness when I feel defensive. It allows me to slow my knee-jerk reactions so I that can try to understand.
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