I’m white; I care; and I’m learning. Talk to me.

I want to share one of the things I’m learning about the depth, pervasiveness, and horror of racism.

I have always hated any behavior that diminished or damaged the self esteem of another person. As a six-year-old, the first time I saw, in Chattanooga, TN, that “coloreds” had to have a separate bathroom, I cried for two days, my grandparents told me.

In in my role as a psychotherapist, the way I’ve worked for kindness and empowerment has been with improving how couples treat each other and how an individual treats him/herself.

Thanks to George Floyd–and the many before him and after him—my focus for “Do no harm” has widened to include race relations. I’m in the early stages of learning, discovering my own privileges, and unhelpful beliefs. Granted, right now my learning (enforced by Covid-19 avoidance) is from books, webinars and zoom sessions with my white women’s group about how we can be better antiracists. I have much to learn.

One of the most powerful things I’m learning is how I have been guilty of Tone Policing.

Tone policing is something I didn’t know about seven months ago. Here is how Ijeoma Oluo explains it in her book, So You Want to Talk about Race. “It happens when someone (usually a privileged person) in a conversation or situation about oppression shifts the focus of the conversation from the oppression being discussed to the way it is being discussed.”

Oluo goes on to say, “Tone policing prioritizes the comfort of the privileged person over the oppression of the disadvantaged person. . . To refuse to listen to someone’s cries for justice and equality until the request comes in a language you feel comfortable with is a way of asserting your dominance over them in the situation.”

Bam, crack, whoosh, fffft, pow. That’s the sound of my mind, blown.

This idea was a shock to me. After all, I grew up in an authoritarian household. I would be punished if I complained, argued, expressed anger, disappointment, or disagreed. Even if I showed those things on my face, without a word. I learned to “ask nicely,” contain any of my feelings except appreciation, and to “shut up” generally speaking, to avoid parental wrath.

That early family training, along with twenty-some years of white-taught communication trainings is getting dislodged and drawn out.

I’d love to talk, e-talk, with anybody who is also learning to talk about race. Please comment on this blog, or tweet, or Facebook comment. (See my website, upper right corner for social media icons.)

Warmly,

Aletta