Antiracism: In It For The Long Haul

As I’ve transitioned into the corporate consulting and training realm, far from the sweaty and hormonal hallways of high school, this truth is ringing even louder. So many companies want to hire someone for one workshop, a small series of talks, or a one-time consulting gig, and think that “they’re doing the work.”

We’re not here for accolades. We’re not here for hashtags for our social media pages. We’re not here for praise and positive public image: We’re here for healing, we’re here for change.

I can visualize the scene clearly: a cloudy afternoon in mid-December, students huddled in groups around pods of desks, and mellow music playing out of my classroom speakers. It’s end-of-semester crunch time, and everyone’s cruising on empty—ready for assignments and grading to end, yearning for winter break and a bit of respite fI can visualize the scene clearly: a cloudy afternoon in mid-December, students huddled in groups around pods of desks, and mellow music playing out of my classroom speakers. It’s end-of-semester crunch time, and everyone’s cruising on empty—ready for assignments and grading to end, yearning for winter break and a bit of respite for all. I’m helping one of my World History students craft a thesis argument for their final paper when a student barges into my class, room 210 at the end of the hallway, sweaty and exacerbated.

“Mira, what can I do to pass your class? I need to pass.” They plead.

I tilt my head to the side, genuinely confused, knowing damn well this child has done below the bare minimum to get by this semester in our class. Little of the group work, no solo classwork, no presentation points, and a scant handful of the homework that I seldom assign anyways.

“I swear, I’ll do anything! I need to pass, and I want at least a B- or something.”

“So let me get this straight,” I clarify, “we tried to coach you along this whole semester, doing family meetings, personalized action plans, and all sorts of things…and you did little to no work, but there are two days left in the semester and you want to now pass the class with a solid grade? That’s right?” Whew, deep breath.

While I no longer believe in grades or even most schooling practices, I had to laugh deeply, a soul and belly laugh, every time a young person would ask me for this accommodation at the end of each semester. And classroom teachers know—there is always at least one kid who is begging for grade salvation!

What this exchange always reminded me of is the way most of us white folks navigate antiracism work. We want to sit in the least discomfort and make the smallest sacrifices, and still get an “A.” We want to float by, showing the least care or consideration for the ongoing movements for racial justice, and still get full credit. We want minimal input for the maximum output.

As I’ve transitioned into the corporate consulting and training realm, far from the sweaty and hormonal hallways of high school, this truth is ringing even louder. So many companies want to hire someone for one workshop, a small series of talks, or a one-time consulting gig, and think that “they’re doing the work.” The urgency embedded in capitalist and white culture tells us to hire someone quick, check it off, and “boom, one and done,” we’ve stepped into our antiracism reusability for the year. Yes, all work starts somewhere. And yes, it’s something. But just like my student, begging to pass the class at the last minute, does this “something” hold weight? Does this “something” create lasting change and growth? Or is it purely for data and show?

When I lead fellow white folks in our affinity work—work done in groups of “alikeness” to dig into a topic that affects our shared identity—I try to drive home the idea of how long-term this work is. This is not check the box work. This is spirit work, heart work, DNA altering work.

So often white folks, and folks with power, want to preserve our dignity, reputation, and sense of self over all else—over others’ wellness, over the actual outcomes of our work in the world, and over the long, arduous labor of investing in racial justice work. Whiteness will always coax us to center ourselves and focus on the ways in which we’re not the bad guy, point fingers elsewhere, and feel good that we’re showing an ounce of care in a world that floods us with apathy and disconnection.

However, if we’re genuinely committed to overthrowing systems of oppression, and willing to interrogate our own complicity within those systems, we know this work is ongoing. It requires deep relationships and the tending of those relationships. It necessitates moving back, taking a breath, and knowing that if you’re truly in it, you’re in it for the long haul. This is not easy work. It doesn’t always, and certainly shouldn’t always, feel good. I’ve been on my journey for thirteen years and there are so many days in which it doesn’t feel good. The long-haul journey, and working to really upset power and privilege, requires some of the deepest sinking into humility and pause that I’ve had to access in my lifetime. I can’t imagine much else, save from conscious parenting, that might demand so much patience, willingness to feel like a miserable fool, and openness to failure. Imagine if both organizations and individuals were as committed to the vulnerable rawness of stepping into the pain and the undoing, as we are invested in the performative work of proving ourselves “down,” showing off in alignment with the trends of justice work, and gasping to be seen as “one of the good ones.” Another deep breath, because this is the work.

We’re not here for accolades. We’re not here for hashtags for our social media pages. We’re not here for praise and positive public image: We’re here for healing, we’re here for change.

Continue, or start, the work by considering our next round of Accomplice Academy starting again in April.