Over the weekend, I saw a photo on social media of a line of white people standing shoulder to shoulder to form a barrier between police and a group of black people who were protesting police violence. I was struck by this photo because the people that formed the barrier were facing the police, not the black protestors.  I saw the photo as a metaphor for using white privilege to end white privilege.

Let me explain. The centuries-old foundation of anti-blackness and white supremacy is stifling, frustrating, and killing black people.  We need co-conspirators willing to use white skin privilege to work for systems change.  We need white people working for racial justice to support our demands for transformation or replacement of broken institutions like the police and the criminal legal system.

To me, the photo represented how white people could use their privilege to disrupt systems of oppression. However, if we were to reverse the image, so the white people were still standing between the protesters and the police but were instead facing the protesters, it would be more representative of the way “allyship” usually plays out.

Normally, white privilege works strategically to sustain the status quo by locating the problem of racial inequity in black people—the problem is the negligent ways we raise and support our children, the volume at which we express our pain and anger in the workplace, the shocking ways we make and spend our money, etc...  Inevitably, in this tired cycle, an academic study finds an “evidence-based” solution in social service programming with strict rules and sanctions.

This kind of social control and management of black people is a matter of policy and practice at the federal and state levels and in local communities all over this country. Consider programs, policy, and philanthropies in Wisconsin, and in Madison, specifically. 

How do we prioritize our resources and deploy white privilege in our community?

Are we more likely to challenge anti-black policies or to create hoops that black people are too tired and too angry to jump through? 

Do our philanthropic projects and government social services create protocols and outcome measures that invade black people’s privacy and restrict their options?  

This use of white privilege sustains white privilege.  And, no matter how unknowing or well-meant, it supports an anti-black system. 

For non-black people who want to create a powerful human barrier against inequity and injustice, let’s consider my metaphorical line of white people facing and challenging structural racism.  What does it look like in practice? For starters, the work certainly will require more than voting for the right Democrat.  Policies that have a disproportionately negative impact on black people must be changed—no matter who proposes or supports them. We could start with racist banking rules that favor bankers, racist employment rules that favor employers, racist housing rules that favor builders and corporations, and racist and sexist social welfare policy that supports the myth of meritocracy.  

What can you do? 

Examine every policy, practice, or idea you promote or support. Ask yourself whether you are facing the system? Determine whether the policy contributes to racial equity and justice for black people or supports injustice and inequity? 

For example, when you give your time and money and resources to causes that support and comfort black people, you are facing those people. Philanthropic and charity work is vital and urgent, and it can be reparative, but it does not stand in for anti-racist policies, values, or ideals.

Anti-racist work is a personal commitment to the study of the concept of reparations which leads to demanding/voting for government reparations. 

Anti-racism is making sure that the resources you pour into services and support for black people, is not systemically and legally looted and drained from our communities with housing, landlord-tenant, banking, employment, healthcare, and criminal legal system rules that contribute to racial inequity and injustice. 

Anti-racism is speaking against, being against, voting against (and telling your mama and your brother why you are against) the plunder of black people and communities. 

Anti-racism requires that as you consider which policies, practices, and ways of being are best for you and your family, you also determine whether those same policies support or frustrate racial justice and equity for black people in the U.S.  If you are unsure of the racial equity impact of any policy, regardless of how neutral it may seem on its face, invest the time to educate yourself.  Learn from academic and experiential experts on the issue, especially black experts.

Back to my metaphor, I know white people will face black people because we are fellow human beings—friends, lovers, and coworkers.  My advice for those interpersonal interactions is to be kind and treat people with dignity, humanity, and respect.  Consider your own life, all your identities, and your relationships.  Practice rigorous and sincere self-reflection.  Recognize and acknowledge your social position and privilege. 

If you want to be a co-conspirator for change, make black peoples’ lives a little easier (and your anti-racism work more effective) by educating yourself.  With curiosity and humility, study the history of disdain and disregard for black lives and bodies in the U.S., and the current context of color-blind racism that masks and perpetuates systemic injustice and oppression.

Finally, ask yourself: Whose behavior and beliefs are you working to change? Who are you facing?

Jacquelyn L. Boggess is a Director of the nINA Collective as well as a Lecturer at the University of Wisconsin School of Social Work. She is based in Madison, WI.