A white therapist working out what it means to be white.

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My Dear White People: I Won’t Argue About Whether or Not You’re Racist. 

I found it’s just a waste of time. Are you calling me a racist? This is a question you ask me. Even though I’ve not called you anything and ascribed no name to your being. When this question comes up,… Continue Reading →

Took a DNA Test Turns Out I’m 100% Colonizer…. Also, I Can’t Give Up On White People 

Well… not 100% colonizer but close enough. And, I can’t give up on white people. There’s a simple reason, really. I’m white. Also, I know and I love white people.  But there’s more to why. As a racialized group we… Continue Reading →

How to be a sh*tty white friend. 

It’s me. I’m that friend. I wish I had video of the experience. Maybe I could replay it and get a better understanding of who I was in that moment. Taking video when I witness undisguised and blatant mistreatment because of… Continue Reading →

That Black Man You See… He’s Twelve. 

It seems it was a short time ago that my son was an infant – soft and small – his tiny body easily cradled in my arms. Just last week he turned 12. He stands taller than me and is… Continue Reading →

Why do you make everything about race? 

I hear you ask this question a lot. Often, when I take the time and energy to answer it, you’re another white person and our context is that of in relationship  —  we know and love one another. When you… Continue Reading →

Talking Race While White 

With other white people, I keep finding, it’s really hard. I had an epic discussion with another white person over the weekend. This person is one who I dearly love. Someone I admire for their kindness and patience and their… Continue Reading →

The thing you don’t talk about… whiteness

The thing you don’t talk about, that’s the thing. I came across this idea at some point while training to be a therapist. It’s the notion that what is left unspoken, the thing that remains hidden or secret or inaccessible,… Continue Reading →

What does it mean to be white?

The story I have of my first memory of race happened when I was 4 years old. It was Easter and the day gave me 3 of my favorite things – candy, a new dress, and time with my best… Continue Reading →

How it started.

A new year has me thinking about beginnings. Namely, the start of how I came to examine whiteness (I wasn’t always interested in what it means to be white) and the early days of this blog (I never imagined myself… Continue Reading →

Can whiteness be good?

“Mommy, your skin is white and you are good to us… and other white people love us too…” She looks at me, her eyes are filled with worry. I hope she doesn’t see me wince. Then a familiar ache fills… Continue Reading →

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