I'm Still Here: Black Dignity in a World Made for Whiteness

by Austin Channing Brown

White supremacy is a tradition that must be named and a religion

that must

be renounced. When this work has not been done, those who live in whiteness become oppressive,...

Far from an imposing beast, I found that white supremacy is more like a poison. It seeps into your mind, drip by drip, until it makes you wonder if your perception of reality is true.

Sadly, most white people are more worried about being called racist than about whether or not their actions are in fact racist or harmful.

Unsolicited confessions inspired by a sense of guilt are often poured over Black bodies in search of their own relief.

The moment Black Americans achieved freedom from enslavement, America could have put to death the idea of Black inferiority. But whiteness was not prepared to sober up from the drunkenness of power over another people group. Whiteness was not ready to give up the ability to control, humiliate, or do violence to any Black body in the vicinity—all without consequence.

Ultimately, the reason we have not yet told the truth about this history of Black and white America is that telling an ordered history of this nation would mean finally naming America’s commitment to violent, abusive, exploitative, immoral white supremacy, which seeks the absolute control of Black bodies. It would mean doing something about it.

For only by being truthful about how we got here can we begin to imagine another way.

But reconciliation is not about white feelings. It’s about diverting power and attention to the oppressed, toward the powerless. It’s not enough to dabble at diversity and inclusion while leaving the existing authority structure in place. Reconciliation demands more.

Reconciliation is the pursuit of the impossible—an upside-down world where those who are powerful have relinquished that power to the margins. It’s reimagining an entirely different way of being with one another. Reconciliation requires imagination. It requires looking beyond what is to what could be. It looks beyond intentions to real outcomes, real hurts, real histories.

This is the shadow of hope. Knowing that we may never see the realization of our dreams, and yet still showing up.