Robin DiAngelo Wants White Progressives to Look Inward

In 2018, Robin DiAngelo, an academic and anti-racism consultant, published the surprise best-seller “White Fragility.” The book, which argues that white people tend to undermine or dismiss conversations about race with histrionic reactions, climbed best-seller lists again last summer, when the murder of George Floyd and the surging Black Lives Matter movement forced American institutions to address structural racism. Major corporations, such as Amazon and Facebook, embraced the slogan “Black Lives Matter” and brought DiAngelo in to speak. Millions of Americans began to consider concepts such as systemic racism and look anew at the racial disparities in law enforcement, and DiAngelo became a guide for many of them.

DiAngelo’s success was not entirely without controversy: critics claimed that her definition of “white fragility” was broad and reductive and that DiAngelo, who is white, condescended to people of color. Carlos Lozada, of the Washington Post, wrote, “As defined by DiAngelo, white fragility is irrefutable. . . . Either white people admit their inherent and unending racism and vow to work on their white fragility, in which case DiAngelo was correct in her assessment, or they resist such categorizations or question the interpretation of a particular incident, in which case they are only proving her point.” In The New Yorker, Kelefa Sanneh wrote that DiAngelo “makes white people seem like flawed, complicated characters; by comparison, people of color seem good, wise, and perhaps rather simple. This narrative may be appealing to its target audience, but it doesn’t seem to offer much to anyone else.”

Last month, DiAngelo published a new book, “Nice Racism,” which argues that even well-intentioned white progressives—the types of people who might read DiAngelo’s work—are guilty of inflicting “racial harm” on people of color. She writes that “the odds are that on a daily basis, Black people don’t interact with those who openly agitate for white nationalism,” but they do face a different danger: “In the workplace, the classroom, houses of worship, gentrifying neighborhoods, and community groups, Black people do interact with white progressives.” She continues, “We are the ones—with a smile on our faces—who undermine Black people daily in ways both harder to identify and easier to deny.”

I recently spoke by phone with DiAngelo about “Nice Racism.” During our conversation, which has been edited for length and clarity, we discussed whether her work includes structural critiques of racism, why she has become so popular over the past year, and whether it’s possible to disagree with her and not be a racist.

How important is attending workshops like the ones you run and talk about in the book if America is going to become less racist?

I’m not sure that it has to be a workshop, but it does have to be education in some form or format, because we’re not educated in this country on our racial history, and of course workshops are an excellent way to gain that education. If they are not followed up and sustained by continuing conversations, then they’re not very effective. Stand-alone, onetime workshops I don’t think are effective.

What is the goal of your work, if white people, as you say, are never going to be completely free of racism?

Less harm, to put it bluntly. I am confident that as a result of my years in this work, I do less harm across race, and that is not actually a small thing. That could translate to one hour longer on somebody’s life, because the chronic stress of racism, for Black people and other people of color—literally, it shortens their lives. I would definitely like to do less harm.

Your work starts from the premise that history and society have made all white people racist. But I was trying to figure out whether you were making a structural critique or offering structural solutions to racism, in part because so much of the book is about workshops.

The foundation of the United States is structural racism. It is built into all of the institutions. It is built into the culture, and in that sense we’ve all absorbed the ideology. We’ve all absorbed the practices of systemic racism, and that’s what I mean when I say we are racist. I don’t mean that individuals have conscious awareness of anti-Blackness, or that they intentionally seek to hurt people based on race. That’s not what I’m referring to when I make a claim like all white people are racist. What I mean is that all white people have absorbed racist ideology, and it shapes the way we see the world and the way we see ourselves in the world, and it comes out in the policies and practices that we make and that we set up.

What needs to change structurally?

Well, the homogeneity alone at the top guarantees that advantage would be built into those systems and structures by the people in the position to build them in. This doesn’t have to be conscious or intentional, but, if significant experiences and perspectives are missing from the table, they’re not going to be included. If a group of architects is around a table designing a building and all of them are able-bodied, they’re simply going to design a building that accommodates the way they move through the world. It’s not an intentional exclusion, but it will result in the exclusion of people who move differently.

You have to have multiple perspectives at those tables, and you can’t just take the additive approach, like, “Oh, well, we included some more diversity,” if you don’t also address power. That’s what I wanted to say. You can have policies that appear to be neutral, but, because we don’t account for just centuries of social discrimination, the impact of those policies will not be neutral.

Your book is a critique of individualism, by which you mean, as you put it, “Our identities are not separate from the white supremacist society in which we are raised, and our patterns of cross-racial engagement are not merely a function of our unique personalities.” What is the problem with individualism?

Individualism cuts the person off from the very society that the concept of individualism is valued in. That’s the great irony, right? If we were in a more community-oriented or collective-oriented society, we wouldn’t value being an individual the way that we do. We have been conditioned to see that as the ideal, that every one of us is unique and special and different, and if you don’t know somebody specifically you can’t know anything about them.

Of course, on one hand, that’s true, right? I don’t know everybody’s experience and life stories and so on, and we are also members of a social group. By virtue of our membership in this social group, we could literally predict whether you and I were going to survive our birth—and our mothers also. It’s like saying, you know, upon my birth, it was announced, “Female,” and then I have been completely exempt from any messages about what it means to be female. We wouldn’t say that, because we know that the moment I am pronounced female, an entire set of deep cultural conditioning is set into place.

I don’t think anybody would say, “My gender has had no influence whatsoever on my life.” When it comes to race, we want to take ourselves out of any kind of collective experience. These are observable, describable, measurable patterns. Does every single person fit every pattern? Of course not, but there is a rule that the exception of course makes visible.

You also talk about an ideology that is called universalism, and you say it functions similarly to individualism, and write, “But instead of declaring that we all need to see each other as individuals (e.g., ‘Everyone is different’), we declare that we all need to see each other as human beings (e.g., ‘Everyone is the same’).” To be clear, “everyone is the same” is not what universalism is, correct? My understanding of universalism is that it’s essentially saying, “We’re all human beings and we all deserve to be treated as human beings.” Do you see it differently?

I’m sure there’s different nuances of the term. When I use it, I’m using it to capture this idea that these categories have no meaning, at the same time that one group consistently is seen as objective and able to represent everybody else’s experience. The example I often use is that we have film directors and then we have Black film directors, or we have film directors and then we have women film directors. We only mark that which is not that universal norm, right? And, in so doing, of course, we reinforce this idea that some people are objective and can speak for everybody.

You have many scenes throughout the book of you talking to people at workshops, and sometimes they get contentious. You write that after one training session two people, “a white woman, ‘Sue,’ who had been sitting next to a white man, ‘Bob,’ approached me and declared, ‘Bob and I think we should all just see each other as individuals.’ Although in my work, moments like this occur frequently, they continue to disorient me on three interconnected levels. First, I had just gone over, in depth, what was problematic about individualism as a means to ‘end racism.’ How could Sue and Bob have missed that forty-five-minute presentation?” In several of the scenes you get annoyed or frustrated with people for not getting the point of what you’re saying. Is there a tension between seeing white people as irredeemably racist and fragile, and also thinking that the best way to change their consciousness is to berate them a little bit in these group settings?

I’m explaining. I don’t know that I’m berating at that point. It’s, like, “O.K., let me help you understand why that is actually a problematic response. Let me break it down for you and explain.” I’m an educator, right? So I want you to understand what that does, how that functions in the conversation. Having just laid that out, yes, I do continue to feel frustrated, because I do have an expectation that people will have some insight or at least some food for thought. When it’s framed as “We think this,” as if they actually didn’t hear any part of it, as if they have no sense that I have a different take on it and that take might have some weight or some value in relation to theirs, that does throw me off. There is a kind of scratching of the head that happens. You would think at this point I would be used to it, but not always.

You have a list in your book of things that are racist, including some obviously racist things such as blackface. One of the things on the list is “Not being aware that the evidence you use to establish that you are ‘not racist’ is not convincing.” Is there a tautological aspect to this?

Yeah, I mean, I think what is missing that makes that problematic is the humility and the curiosity, given that the vast majority of white people live segregated lives, have never studied systemic racism, all the way through higher education. You can get a Ph.D. in this country and never have discussed racism. You can be seen as qualified to lead virtually any organization with no awareness or ability to engage in these conversations on racism. Given all that, it’s the lack of humility about what you might not be understanding. It’s not granting that this is arguably the most complex, nuanced, social, institutional, cultural, societal dilemma of the last several hundred years.

I may land, after thoughtful reflection, on “That’s not going to work for me,” but that’s very different from rejecting it out of hand in a way that will allow no more information or nuance to come in. I think I’m a great example of someone who must at some point make a decision about the validity of the feedback I’m getting, right? Because I couldn’t possibly follow it all. I’ve worked hard and long to gain some ability to do that, and I have people that I can check in with to help guide me in that. Trusted and authoritative sources. But somebody who’s never really thought about these issues, couldn’t answer the question of what it means to be white, and just rejects it out of hand, I think that’s problematic.

Another entry on the list is “Not understanding why something on this list is problematic.” This seems to imply that someone who disagrees with you, Robin DiAngelo, is racist. Is there another tautological issue there?

Well, maybe one of the challenges in the way that’s framed is that “racist” is such a strong word. Keep in mind that the subtitle is “racial harm,” right? I deliberately didn’t say how white progressives are racists but how we perpetuate racial harm within a racist society. Again, rather than “Am I missing something? Can I thoughtfully engage in a conversation about this?” is it just “Nope, nope, nope”? I mean, if somebody fundamentally, at the base, accepts the existence of systemic racism, accepts that they have inevitably been shaped by it, and is willing and open to struggle with that, challenge that, then there’s going to be lots of nuance in whether we agree or disagree on particular things. I’m really talking about people who haven’t done any of that work and still feel it’s completely legitimate for them to determine what is valid and what is not.

The list also includes “Lecturing BIPOC people on the answer to racism” by saying things like “People just need to . . .” This was obviously written by you, a white person, in a book that tells people that they “need to” do various things. Is there a circularity there?

Well, I’m always asked to make sure I give the answer. It’s not as interesting to me as the analysis.

What do you mean?

For me, the analysis of racism, the question of how things function—that’s fascinating and interesting. I do believe that, if you understand more deeply how racism functions, you know that answer in the sense of what to do, what not to do, what kind of basic orientation skills will help you in almost any situation. There’s constant pressure when you write a book to “Make sure that last chapter tells people what to do.” What was the other part of what you asked?

On the list of racist things is lecturing people of color about the answer to racism, and saying people just “need to” do things. Since your book is talking about the answers to racism and telling people what they need to do, I thought it was interesting that that was on a list of things that were racist.

Yeah, but notice that the book is written by a white person to white people. I’m not lecturing BIPOC people on what to do but I’m offering some analysis, some deconstruction of things that white people often say and do, and letting my readers know that that’s generally considered problematic. How do I know that? Years of feedback, years of witnessing, of falling in it myself, which I hope I demonstrate. If you are already starting from a place of denial of systemic racism, then we’re just having two different conversations. It’s like climate change. If somebody denies climate change, we’re not going to have that conversation.

Your book argues that white people should not presume to speak for people of color. Do you think that’s an accurate description, and can you talk about the importance of that?

There is a nuance there. When people of color aren’t present, do you understand enough about racism that you can represent, generally, that perspective? That’s different from speaking for them. I, again, am talking to white people as an insider, as somebody who shares all the same socialization. I have challenged some of that, and that is a lifelong endeavor—it’s been twentysomething years. Here’s lessons learned, gathering from my own research, from mentorship, from Black scholars, white scholars, practice. I’m sharing lessons learned and observations made and analysis, and hopefully it’s useful.

Another thing on the list is claiming “to have a friendship with a Black colleague who has never been to your home.” Isn’t that up to the two people in that situation, one white, one Black, to say whether in fact they have a friendship? How do you make a judgment like that, not knowing specifics?

Well, in my experience, many Black people have shared that there are white people who believe they have relationships with them that the Black person does not share. It’s a polite, respectful kind of acquaintanceship, but there’s a level of trust that isn’t present, and the white person is not aware of that. I’m also talking about when white people use friendship with a Black person as evidence that they are free of racism. Not only would that not be good evidence in general—because, trust me, I have friendships with Black people, and I do on occasion say and do hurtful things—but if you haven’t even ever been to their home and you’re using them as your evidence that you couldn’t possibly be racist, I would offer that the relationship may not be as close or deep as you think that it is.

On your list of racist things is “Speaking over/interrupting a BIPOC person.” Maybe this goes back to our individualism conversation, but is that the type of thing that needs context, and might not belong on a list that also includes things like blackface? Certainly, in some situations, personal or at work, people speak over one another. In some cases, obviously, that’s a sign of racism, and in other cases it might just be the way people talk or the way they interact. How do you disaggregate that?

Well, first of all, it’s a range. There are things on the list that are more obvious, and then there’s some more insidious, subtle things, and they don’t stand alone. You talked over that Black person, and that’s your personality and you always do it, you do it with everybody, but that’s the tenth time that day or that week that that person has been talked over, and they’re left having to wonder, Isn’t this about the fact that I’m Black? It sure seems like it happens to me more than other people. They’re on that wheel of trying to assess that.

I think part of our arrogance and our entitlement is that we don’t have to consider the impact of our actions on people who are positioned differently in relation to us. A great example is, if I work in an overwhelmingly male workplace and that’s how they talk to one another—they yell at one another, they talk over one another—great, but when you do it to me it’s going to have a different impact. I would want and expect them to be attentive to that. I can just hear somebody saying, “Oh, I have to watch everything I say.” Well, you know, is that really that much to ask, that we should just be aware that there is historical harm between our groups, and that you do need to think about the impact that might have?

You write, about the things on the list, that “the intentions are irrelevant to the impact.” Is it that they’re irrelevant, or is it that circumstances matter?

Let me think about how I want to phrase this. I am pushing back and trying to close all of the escape valves that I have seen my fellow white people use over the years, and focussing on intentions is a very common escape valve for saying, “It shouldn’t matter, because I didn’t mean to.” On the one hand, I’m glad you didn’t mean to, but it does matter and it did have an impact, so let’s let go of your intentions and move over here and take responsibility for the impact. I’m trying to, again, take that escape hatch away, so maybe I’m being stronger than necessary because I don’t see a lot of nuance in people who are new. Sometimes you kind of have to say, “Here’s the boundary. Don’t even go there. Let’s just go here until you get a little more skilled at that.”

There’s one scene in the book in which some white women begin crying because a Black woman is telling a story about her son and the police. You call the white women to account for reacting in such a way, and taking the focus off the Black woman. That’s followed by a chapter about white silence—the idea that white people not speaking up or not showing how they’re feeling about racism is also a problem. Sometimes it seems like maybe you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t in some of these workshops.

I would say in some ways you are damned if you do and damned if you don’t, and that applies to all of us. In other words, we just simply are not going to get this right. There are many, many tensions in this work and that is one of them, but again, that should never be the reason you don’t struggle to get it a little more right. I don’t think I took them to task. I observed and I had a realization. I hope I framed it that way. Sometimes, in watching the dynamic, I realized, like, Oh, this is not our place to be comforting Black women about the pain of racism right now. I also add, you know, a hand on the back, just a real “Hey, may I touch you? May I put my hand on your back?” you’re showing your presence, but you’re not actually telling people that something’s O.K. or going to be O.K. from your position. I find that to be problematic. There’s no way you can tell me it’s O.K. from your position as a member of the group that perpetrates this and benefits from this.

You write, “Although motivated by compassion, this seemed deeply inappropriate to me.”

Yes, although motivated by compassion. I’m clear. I didn’t stand up and call anybody out. It was an observation that was kind of like, you know, Note to self: don’t do that.

You’ve spoken to large and small companies, especially after the murder of George Floyd forced many institutions to address instances of racism. How does it feel to have your work at the center of this conversation, and what is it about your work that you think makes so many companies want to turn to you?

Well, some of this I can answer because the Black people in many of these companies bring me in, and they understand that their white colleagues are more likely to hear it from me, and that there’s a way that I can name it and it’s harder to deny than when they try to name it. Oftentimes, that then makes room and space for them to continue forward with what they’ve been trying to do. What I bring is an insider’s perspective that, again, is harder to deny. Implicit bias is such that, consciously or not, I’m probably granted the benefit of the doubt even before I begin in a way that Black people are not.

When a Black person is laying out how racism functions, they pretty much can only point the finger outward. I mean, they can share their own experience, which white people don’t share, and then they can explain to white people that what white people are doing is harmful. When I do it, I can point it both inward and outward. When I point it inward, it gives room for other white people to admit that they have said and felt and done the same things. There’s a little bit of, like, O.K., if she can admit that, then I can admit that. It brings down some of the defensiveness, and yes, it does at the same time center white people. This is one of the great tensions of the work. There is no way outside of the construct we’re in.

You’re saying that you’re bringing something to the table that would be harder for a person of color in our society to bring to the table?

It’s only one piece of what should be at the table, but it’s a piece that’s been missing for so long.