Help! I Thought I Could Get Past My Own Racism. But I’m Worried I’ve Undone All My Work.

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I did something so stupid, and I keep reliving it over and over. I am white, and today I hired an Uber, and the driver was a Black man. We were chatting on the ride, and he mentioned that he was from St Louis. I blurted out, “They’ve got the best barbecue in St Louis!” As soon as I said it, I just cringed inside. I know it sounded racist, shallow, stereotypical, and like a classic microaggression, dressed up in a pitiful attempt to connect with a Black person. But the thing is, my husband and I absolutely love barbecue and soul food. Wherever my husband and I go, we always stop for barbecue (greens, cornbread, okra, peach cobbler, etc.). I grew up in Virginia, and we ate like that frequently, so it holds fond memories for me.

But there were also a lot of racial issues with my family. My first boyfriend was a Black boy, and my parents were not OK with it. I’ve spent many years accepting that my family was and is racist. I’ve been working as hard as I can to unlearn the things I was conditioned to believe about Black people and to just listen to their experiences. I’ve really been trying to understand the criticisms that Black people have about white people, and I was shocked at myself for what I said. It felt like all the things I’ve been trying to accomplish were wiped out in one go, and I’m grappling with the fact that Black people might be right when they say white people will never be able to get past their internalized racism. Should I reach out and apologize? If the driver didn’t take it as a racist comment, then I’ve just created a really awkward situation. If I don’t reach out but he’s angry or upset, then I haven’t been the ally that I want to be. I want to own my stupid mistake, but I don’t want to make things worse.

Dear Ally or Not,

I feel for you. There are few things worse than lying in bed at night or standing in the shower, reliving a conversation in which you think you made a misstep and wondering whether there’s a stranger out there who might forever be moving through the world while occasionally thinking about how annoying, weird, or tone deaf you were. And I do understand where you think you went wrong. You are afraid that in this backseat conversation, you were perceived as being over the top and trying too hard. You’re worried that, despite your pure intentions, your barbecue comment revealed that the minute you laid eyes on the driver, something inside you was activated, and your unconscious brain and mouth teamed up against you and revealed that all you thought was Black person! Worse, all you thought of when you thought about a Black person was stereotypical Black food. Awkward! You’re worried that you failed to do what I once suggested to a white letter writer grappling with visiting a Black hair salon: Be a low-key white person. Here’s how I explained what that means:

Someone who obviously isn’t spewing racism, but beyond that, isn’t exhausting everyone around them trying to get attention for their non-racism. They have good politics and hate bigotry, which you know from their actions and things that come up naturally in conversation. But they’re not so insecure that they have to hit you over the head with it constantly. They’re not trying to be edgy or in on inside jokes. They’re confident enough that they’re not racist to just be normal and connect with people on topics other than race.So, how do you behave like a low-key white person? You get your haircut, read your magazine, know that your intentions are pure, and don’t seek any validation from your stylist or fellow salon-goers. You chat about the weather and the parking situation. You refrain from making announcements about how coarse your curls are and how it traumatized you as a child so you can really understand what all the other women in the salon are going through, or how you would have voted for Obama a third time, or about how your parents are super racist and you just don’t know why but you blame Fox News because they’re really actually good people, or how much you love and appreciate Lizzo. (By the way, you can work on being low-key with respect to any marginalized identity. For example, I aspire to be a low-key straight person by refraining from annoyingly trying to set every gay person I know up with every other gay person I know just because they’re gay. You can be a low-key able-bodied person by not falling over yourself to use a condescending voice to offer help to anyone using a wheelchair, etc.)

Someone who obviously isn’t spewing racism, but beyond that, isn’t exhausting everyone around them trying to get attention for their non-racism. They have good politics and hate bigotry, which you know from their actions and things that come up naturally in conversation. But they’re not so insecure that they have to hit you over the head with it constantly. They’re not trying to be edgy or in on inside jokes. They’re confident enough that they’re not racist to just be normal and connect with people on topics other than race.

So, how do you behave like a low-key white person? You get your haircut, read your magazine, know that your intentions are pure, and don’t seek any validation from your stylist or fellow salon-goers. You chat about the weather and the parking situation. You refrain from making announcements about how coarse your curls are and how it traumatized you as a child so you can really understand what all the other women in the salon are going through, or how you would have voted for Obama a third time, or about how your parents are super racist and you just don’t know why but you blame Fox News because they’re really actually good people, or how much you love and appreciate Lizzo. (By the way, you can work on being low-key with respect to any marginalized identity. For example, I aspire to be a low-key straight person by refraining from annoyingly trying to set every gay person I know up with every other gay person I know just because they’re gay. You can be a low-key able-bodied person by not falling over yourself to use a condescending voice to offer help to anyone using a wheelchair, etc.)

But, good news: I think your concerns are misguided, and you can relax. I suspect you were perceived as a low-key white person making regular small talk. Because guess what? St. Louis has more white people than Black people, and there doesn’t appear to be any strong racial divide when it comes to who makes and consumes barbecue. This admittedly was not a peer-reviewed study, but when I searched online for “St. Louis BBQ chefs” and looked at the images that popped up, I saw quite a diverse (aside from being all male) group. So while this style of cooking might be a Black thing in your mind, I doubt your driver had the same association in his. In fact, I’m guessing that he responded to your remarks warmly, and perhaps even with some recommendations. Either way, you’re in the clear as far as I’m concerned.

While stressing out over a chat with a rideshare driver doesn’t feel great, your sense of distress over the racism you were raised with and how it might inform your worldview or how you are perceived by Black people isn’t a bad thing. It’s an indication that you care (a lot!) and that you’re willing to look critically at your own words and actions. That’s a feat in a society in which powerful people and institutions are increasingly welcoming to—and even insistent upon—white supremacy, and it says a lot about your character. This only becomes a problem if you get stuck second-guessing and beating yourself up after a perceived misstep, which doesn’t help anyone.

So I wonder if there’s something you could do to increase your confidence that you’re not always going around spewing microaggressions. To get there, I’ll give you advice that echoes what I told a recent letter writer who was struggling to feel OK about the size of her body, despite having a deep intellectual understanding of body positivity. (Sorry for quoting myself twice in one response, but it applies!) I said that instead of obsessing about having the wrong thoughts, she should try to offer herself different input (lots of images of fat people enjoying their lives and thriving to encourage herself to feel that being fat isn’t horrible, in addition to knowing it) to shift her feelings.

In your case, maybe it would be good to increase your exposure to Black people, and not just those who are explaining how shitty racism is and how often white people screw up. Aim for just nice and casual interactions. Via social media is fine, so you don’t have to worry about making anyone feel weird. Because while understanding racism and wanting to rid yourself of it is good, getting a peek inside of an experience you haven’t had and exposure to the everyday lives of the very diverse group of people who fall under the label “Black” will do a lot more than self-flagellation to really unravel the ideas you were raised with. I think ongoing, pressure-free experiences with Black people from all walks of life will gently chip away at your biases and also make you feel more self-assured. You might even get some more barbecue recommendations in the process.

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My parents split up when I was 11 after years of misery. They aren’t bad people; they simply couldn’t get along with each other. After the divorce, each pretended the other never existed.  Three weeks ago, my dad lost his battle with cancer, and it has been devastating for me. The thing is that my mother forbade me from ever so much as mentioning him in her presence long ago. I really could use her support right now in the form of being able to talk to her about what I’m going through. In light of this, would it be acceptable for me to try broaching the subject with her?

That’s a pretty aggressive and unreasonable demand on your mom’s part. You should comply anyway. Because why would you want to subject yourself to whatever reaction she might have when you bring up your dad? She hated him. What does she have to offer? You’d be setting yourself up to be hurt.

You absolutely deserve to talk about your loss and deserve support. But you’ll feel a lot better (and preserve your relationship with your living parent, who you also love) if you look for it elsewhere.

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My mother came to live with my husband and me over the summer, as she has some health issues that make living alone no longer tenable for her. Halloween is coming up, and she is demanding that we not pass out candy or even answer the door. Instead, she wants us to set up a table in our driveway and leave “Happy Halloween” cards for the kids to take along with snack packs of baby carrots. She says that way they can “have a nice little note to put in their scrapbooks as a memento.” As for the carrots, “Maybe they don’t get a chance to have fresh vegetables.”

I do not know what planet she is living on or what century she thinks this is. My husband and I look forward to handing out candy and getting to see the neighborhood kids and their parents.  This really is becoming a point of contention between us and her, and I have no desire to spend the next five weeks in constant battles. What can I do to get her to shut up?

Dear Harrangued Over Halloween,

You and your husband should give out candy, like normal people. Then, as your neighbors and their kids get ready to move on to the next house on the street, you can say, “Feel free to take a note from my mom and a green bean from the table at the end of the stairs.” The kids will get a vegetable, and the adults will probably give you knowing looks and have a good laugh.

My husband and I host the weekly family dinner ever since my in-laws sold their house for a retirement community. We are the only ones with the space to entertain since we have a lovely enclosed deck, grill, and fire pit. My sister-in-law is going through a divorce. My sympathy is gone…