Introduction
Recently, a friend told me how frustrating it was to have every white person he met start the relationship by trying to prove how they are not a racist; regardless of what part of the country he’s in, it’s the same song and dance. He said, based on this sampling, he can only assume there are no racists in America, or they all live underground somewhere. He said this makes Black folks crazy because it contradicts their daily lived experience. So, either somebody’s lying, or every Black person in America is crazy.
He said he would give anything if he could sit down with a real dyed-in-the-wool racist and just get into their heads to understand why they think what they think. Not to debate or change anyone’s mind, but to have that piece of the puzzle answered, the piece white folks are reluctant to share.
Reflecting on my journey as a recovering racist, I offered to put down on paper what I believe a staunch white supremacist would tell a Black man if you gave him a truth serum. You see, I still have that voice inside, waiting for times when I might be vulnerable to promises of white superiority. My friend promised he would not be offended. He wasn’t. In fact, he said there were no surprises, but it was a relief to hear a white man say it all out loud.
Warning: The following contains offensive, racist content—it cannot be otherwise and remain truthful. While this voice does not speak for all whites, though like every white supremacist, he would have us believe he does, the likelihood is that there are echoes of his thinking in every white person. It's in the air we breathe and the water we drink. These are the attitudes, unspoken thoughts and unconscious biases that Black Americans encounter daily.
A White Supremacist Spills His Secrets
Psst, hey you, Negro man. Yeah, you. It doesn’t matter what you’d prefer to be called. This isn’t one of those politically correct conversations. I tell it like it is, ok?
I hear you got some questions for me. Don’t stare at me while I talk to you! Somebody might think we’re friends.
I hear you’re feeling a little crazy. You seem like a decent guy for a Black man, so I’m going to let you in on the secret—you know, THE secret, the one about how white folks really feel about you. But you’ve got to swear, you can’t let anybody know I told you. They’ll kick me out of the club.
First off, no, you’re not crazy. That alarm you have that goes off when you’re around white people, the one that tells you that you’re not welcome? It’s not faulty wiring. It’s true, you aren’t welcome. No matter what we say. Whether you’re dressed in rapper gangster wear or Armani business attire, we’re always looking for the concealed weapon. You know, your agenda.
Why are you in our neighborhood? What is it you’re trying to take from us? What’s the reason you’re off the plantation, or out of the ghetto, or across the tracks, or out of the corporate diversity department, or wherever it is you come from, into our territory? We’ve got to know who signed your pass before we let you get too close. Do you have the name of a white person who can vouch for you?
You know that endless argument you have trying to convince white folks about their special privileges? You might as well save your breath. We’ve got them, and we know we’ve got them. What’s more, we like them. Admitting it would just put us in the awkward position of being asked to give up what we have, and we are not going to do that, so you might as well let it go. We’d rather gaslight you into thinking you’re crazy than admit we benefit from being white.
And while we’re on it, we’ll never understand what it’s like to be you, no matter how many times we ask you to explain it. No matter how eloquently you describe your pain. We can’t afford to get it. Segregated or integrated or intermarried, proximity doesn’t matter. We can segregate from you even if you are standing beside us. I know you can feel it—the exclusion.
We carry our separateness from you like a badge. After all, that’s what makes us white—not being black. And those who profess understanding and unity with you? Trust them the least. They’re the ones who really want to drive you crazy. They hook you with compassion that quickly dissipates into condescension. With them, you better show your gratitude, or they’d dump you because of “your attitude.” When push comes to shove, and they are asked to give up a few of their privileges to level the playing field, you're on your own
Beware of their offer of free help. They do nothing for free. Only trust the ones who charge you upfront, like the check-cashing joints on Martin Luther King Boulevard. The rest of us figure you owe us plenty for our help—even when you don’t want it. We take it out of your soul. When you stand up to us, that’s when we send our bill, that hefty fine for betraying our benevolence with your uppity ingratitude.
Reparations? Reconciliation? Don’t count on it. It is your burden to forgive and ours to repent. Don’t wait for us to go first. To repent, we have to feel remorse. To feel remorse, we have to accept blame. To accept blame, we must admit that we have benefited at your expense. Nope. Like I said, we whites don’t see any white privileges around here.
And forget about changing the historical narrative. No time soon are we going to admit we got what we got because of your stint in slavery and under Jim Crow. And no, we don’t want to read about it in our history books. We’ve used gallons of White Out to produce the American Story that flatters us. For now, just be satisfied with the quarantine ward we give you to keep alive what little Black history you can cram into a month. We’ll give you a tired Rosa Parks and a neutered Martin Luther King, but that’s about it. And let’s keep it in February, so it doesn’t infect real American History.
I guess it comes down to this. Despite all the lip service, we don’t see you as real Americans. To us, you are still earning your way, waiting for your day, but you will never arrive until you are white. And you will never be white because we will always need a bottom. It’s a tough break that the bottom had to be color-coded, but it just works so efficiently that way. After all, there is no top with a bottom, white without black, right?
You’re not crazy, but that’s our secret, okay? I’ll deny the whole thing.
The crux of the matter is that we’re pretty sure we are better than you. After all, we are “white,” right? Why else would we keep that otherwise meaningless label if there wasn’t something in it for us?
That way, we don’t have to say aloud that we’re your superiors. That just wouldn’t be polite. One valuable lesson we have learned lately is that politeness is the best guardian of injustice. All we have to do is to let you know politely that we are white and let you do the math. All we ask in exchange is that you be polite in return, play your part, and stop calling us racists.
Let's face it. “Being white” is the most potent thing this country ever invented, and we want to keep it. We wouldn’t trade it for anything, no matter what we say. We’re more than happy to give up being Irish, Jewish, or Polish to be voted into the White Club. It’s money in the bank to be white. You have to be a damned idiot to be white in this country and not make it.
And another thing. We Americans (of course, I mean white) have a neat trick that keeps us sane in the face of all the contradictions that otherwise make you crazy. It’s a habit we picked up from our Founding Fathers, and now it’s so automatic we don’t even have to think about it. It keeps you conveniently invisible to us, under our radar. It allows us to go about splitting up the proceeds of democracy without dealing you in. It’s our “Except for Negroes" trick.
Here’s how it works. We can subconsciously insert that phrase into any sentence, clause, or principle. It started all the way back at “All men are created equal (except for Negroes.)” “The right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness (except for Negroes.)” “To promote the general welfare for all citizens (except for Negroes.)” “One man, one vote (except for Negroes.)” “Justice is blind (except for Negroes.)”
We don’t even need to think about it, much less feel guilty.
We’ve had years of practice, so no wonder it’s easy to carry the whole thing forward to safe neighborhoods—except for Negroes; good schools—except for Negroes; quality health care; equal opportunity, good streets, drinkable water, breathable air, suitable employment, civil defense, hurricane evacuation plans…you get the picture.
Haven’t you noticed that you always have to pass some kind of law just to get us to deal you in, like you’re not even sitting there at the table? Civil Rights Laws, Voting Rights Laws. Equal Housing. Equal Opportunity. Desegregation laws. Anti-lynching laws. Neat trick, huh?
Speaking of neat tricks, we won't have to mention you at all as soon as we get this coded language thing worked out. The criminal element, drug dealers, gang members, thugs, the underclass, minority groups, the inner city, welfare recipients, culturally deprived, chronically poor, climate refugees—then not only will you be unseen, but you will also be unspoken. Then try calling us racist.
So, you see, you’re not crazy; everything in this country is about race, especially when we say it isn’t. But of course, we can’t go on record with that. When we claim to be colorblind, all we are saying is that we are blind to injustice, blind to your needs, blind to your rights, blind to your history - blind to you.
But it’s not true. We see you, know you; we feel your presence in our bones. You’re part of us, a reminder of our history and our sins. You are us, and we’ll never forgive you for that.
I just thought you might want to know.
Remember, mum’s the… never mind. Who are you going to tell? Nobody listens anyway.
A White Supremacist Spills His Secrets