Coming to terms with my white privilege (Blog post written by FC Consultant, Tricia Hennessy)

Growing up, I didn’t think of myself as privileged. In fact, I cringed at the word. I came from a working-class background. “Privilege” sounded to me like “entitled,” as if my family hadn’t overcome obstacles or worked hard for what we had.

But why would I think any differently? I grew up as a white person in the US, in a mostly white school with a white dominated curriculum. The white people around me did not bring up my racial identity, and I don’t remember any conversations about the ongoing impact of systemic racism. I thought of privilege in terms of socio-economics. I was taught to “be nice” and to be “color blind.”

Looking back, I’d point to the day I read the article “Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack” by Peggy McIntosh as a pivotal turning point. That piece helped me see that my whiteness impacted my day-to-day life. It listed things I had lived my life not noticing or thinking about. It made it personal.

I thought about all the ways I’ve benefited from being white in this country. I’ve been taught by, graded by, given medical care by, hired by, promoted by, and mentored by people from my own racial background. People who did not have to pretend not to see my color.

I thought about how much farther back it goes. My ancestors benefited from being white, and that has benefited me. I wonder how my dad’s whiteness impacted his ability to live through the Depression and come out of those days with a job and family. How much did his whiteness give him access to a New Deal program that put teenage kids to work? Did it make the GI Bill freely available to him? Did it enable him to join a trade union, or give him and his wife the freedom to buy a house in the neighborhood they chose?

And that’s just one generation back of one line of my ancestry. Professor McIntosh’s reframing of privilege made me curious about what my experience might be like if I wasn’t white. I intentionally sought out opportunities to listen, through personal relationships as well as books, articles, and movies. I gave myself permission to notice difference, and wonder how it might be impacting particular situations.

It was a bit scary: what if I say or do the wrong thing? It was embarrassing too: how could I have been so unaware before? To my surprise, it wasn’t overwhelming. It was manageable, in that I could think about it at a personal, day-to-day level. Over time I could focus on the interpersonal space of building enriching relationships. Only from there did I start to see a way to have the impact I’d like to have to change systems.

Most surprising, I’d say, was that it was freeing. The reality had been that I did notice difference, but I hadn’t felt permission to think about it, let alone talk about it. I definitely hadn’t felt the freedom to build relationships across race. Now a richer world was opening to me.

I no longer cringe at being called privileged. I choose to focus on how my whiteness can help me advance anti-racism.

Bias matters in unpredictable ways

We don’t always know the long-term implications of the biases we hold, or if and when they will become a big deal. I still remember the moment I acknowledged that I might have some unconscious biases toward what we then referred to as the gay community.

I was participating in a mandatory, two-day, diversity program for new employees at Lotus Corporation back in 1994. I had recently joined as an Assistant Corporate Counsel. The first day of the workshop focused on race and gender. That was fun for me; I thoroughly enjoyed the exercises and discussion. On the second day, Lotus’ PRIDE group led the discussion. I can’t remember exactly how it happened; they might have been challenging us about our biases. Pretty sure I said something like, “I’m not biased, I treat everyone the same”—a sentiment that makes me cringe today.

They pressed a little more and someone asked me if I would hire a gay man to be a nanny for my infant son. I remember feeling that one in my gut rather than thinking about it in my head. I knew the answer was no and I also knew that my reaction was illogical.

I wasn’t causing anyone direct harm, or making homophobic comments or even having homophobic thoughts but their questions did cause me to reflect and question whether I harbored any unconscious biases. At that time, I didn’t have close relationships with anyone who openly identified as LGBTQ+; that in itself was a sign.

And, I was probably in denial about the negative associations I had absorbed, mostly about gay men, while growing up in the homophobic culture of 1970s Jamaica. I would have been in denial because no one in my immediate family would have made homophobic comments but the society in general was rife with it and as children we pick up all sorts of messages.

As with the tattoo bias I shared last week, I wanted to get rid of this bias. I don’t know how conscious it was, but I began to broaden my professional and personal circles. I met and got to know gay colleagues, landladies, friends. I am pretty sure I read some books to increase my awareness—that’s usually my go-to when I don’t know something or I’m uncomfortable. I was investing in an open mind, rooting out a bias I did not want to have.

I had no idea just how important it would be to deal with my stuff back then. My daughter was born a year after that diversity program. Cut to 17 years later: my daughter walked into the kitchen and said, “I have to tell you something. I’m bi.” [I have my daughter’s permission to share her story.]

Now, I can’t say that I did everything right as a parent (do we ever?). But I know it would have been worse if I had been the 1994 version of myself. I was grateful that she was comfortable sharing this important part of who she is with me. And I was relieved that I started attending to this particular bias so many years before. The stakes were higher than I could have imagined during that workshop.

You’ve become aware of a bias. Now what?

In last week’s blog post I shared some approaches that I use to spot my own biases. Today, and next week, I’m going to share stories and strategies that have helped me mitigate some of my biases.

Many years ago, my partner told me that he was planning to get a tattoo. Immediately, I felt a reaction in my belly. All the negative stereotypes I held about people with tattoos rose up in my head. I tried not to show this (literal) gut feeling to him. Keeping my face neutral, I asked him what he had in mind. I braced myself. Turned out he had something big in mind: a colorful sleeve of a dragon covering his whole arm.

Inwardly, I panicked. My imagination went right to a few months later, when my Jamaican family would meet him for the first time. I imagined their shocked faces and what they might assume about him. Then I realized what my brain was doing. Now that my bias was now conscious, I took a few steps that helped me to interrupt it.

First, I noticed that I was projecting onto my family the bias that was actually mine. I needed to own it and to unpack the associations and stereotypes in my head. Why did I believe what I did about tattoos and their wearers? Were those beliefs true? Where did they come from?

I started getting curious. I looked around for tattoos to see what was out there. Some were truly beautiful. I saw a young woman at the beach whose body was almost completely covered in tattoos. They told a story; her body was the canvas for a work of art. Of course, there were others that I didn’t like as much.

Then I looked at the people. Did they line up with the stereotypes I held? Turns out lots of people have tattoos. I saw artsy folks and professionals. Young people on their phones and grandparents with strollers. I filed these images away, starting to break some of the old associations that had formed patterns in my head.

None of the above would have happened if I hadn’t decided that I wanted to change my perspective. It was important to me to eliminate the bias because my partner was going to get a large tattoo, and I didn’t want to experience an irrational reaction every time I saw it.

In this case, the stakes weren’t that high. If I didn’t attend to my bias, would it affect our relationship? I doubt it. But, what if I were interviewing people? Would I discount candidates with visible tattoos? What about evaluating employees? Hiring vendors? Selecting consultants to represent my organization? Honestly, I think the answer is yes..

As it happened, my partner spoke with a few artists and had a couple of designs drawn. Then I stopped hearing about it. When I started writing this post, I asked him what his plans were. He shrugged and said he probably won’t bother. All that work on mitigating my tattoo bias, and he’s not going to take advantage of it! Hmmm…maybe I’ll get one.

I’d love to hear how you mitigate your biases. Please share tips in the comments below.