Me and White Supremacy: Combat Racism, Change the World, and Become a Good Ancestor

“The system of white supremacy was not created by anyone who is alive today. But it is maintained and upheld by everyone who holds white privilege—whether or not you want it or agree with it.” 

Here, Saad makes clear that although people with white privilege today did not begin the oppression and enslavement of BIPOC, they perpetuate white supremacy by maintaining systems that allowed it to flourish in the first place. This is meant as a call to action for participants/readers who may be unsure why they ought to involve themselves in antiracism. Saad separates the idea of agreeing with her point of view from the truth about white supremacy in order to make clear that the 28-day challenge is less about her own opinions of white supremacy and more about objective truth of the power and responsibility held by everyone with white privilege. 

“I can count on one hand the number of times I experienced overt racism. But in countless subtle ways, every day, it was felt indirectly. And those indirect messages—from being treated slightly differently by schoolteachers, to hardly ever seeing fictional characters or media representations that looked like me, to understanding that I would have to work a lot harder than my white peers to be treated the same, to understanding that my needs were always an afterthought (why could I never find a foundation shade that matched me exactly while my white friends always could?)—painted an indelible picture in my mind. A picture that taught me this: Black girls like me did not matter in a white world.”

This quotation makes clear that this 28-day challenge is less about overt racism, but instead zoomed in on the variety of ways that small, subtle messages about BIPOC continue to uphold white supremacy. Although these forms of racism are less direct, they are insidious, making clear that black women and girls are particularly not important and easily erased. Racist oppression can take a variety of forms, and just because an action, decision, treatment, or visual is not overtly racist doesn’t mean it is not, in fact, upholding white supremacist paradigms.

“People often think that white supremacy is a term that is only used to describe far-right extremists and neo-Nazis. However, this idea that white supremacy only applies to the so-called “bad ones” is both incorrect and dangerous, because it reinforces the idea that white supremacy is an ideology that is only upheld by a fringe group of white people. White supremacy is far from fringe. In white-centered societies and communities, it is the dominant paradigm that forms the foundation from which norms, rules, and laws are created…White supremacy is an ideology, a paradigm, an institutional system, and a worldview that you have been born into by virtue of your white privilege.” 

Saad takes issue with the idea that white supremacy is merely an extremist, fringe position held by a very small number of people with white privilege. Here, she makes clear that white supremacy is a much larger and more sinister ideology enforced and upheld through a wide, seemingly ordinary series of actions and behaviors normalizing and maintaining whiteness as “standard” while “othering” BIPOC. This is meant as a call to action before diving into the 28-day challenge, prodding the reader/participant to begin coming to terms with their own complicity as they begin their antiracist education and work.

“White supremacy is a system you have been born into. Whether or not you have known it, it is a system that has granted you unearned privileges, protection, and power. It is also a system that has been designed to keep you asleep and unaware of what having that privilege, protection, and power has meant for people who do not look like you.” 

Opening the idea of white supremacy as a system one is either born into or not, Saad points out that even if someone has not recognized their own white privilege, they still benefit from the system itself. Multiple times in the book, she emphasizes the need to no longer be “asleep” to white supremacy, but rather to wake up and begin to see how this power dynamic is not only unfair, but violent and dangerous. For participants or readers who have not engaged in antiracist work before, pointing to the invisible “design” of white supremacy creates an opportunity for them to begin to see, understand, and tear down the racist structures oppressing others for the benefit of people with white privilege.

“White supremacy is an evil. It is a system of oppression that has been designed to give you benefits at the expense of the lives of BIPOC, and it is living inside you as unconscious thoughts and beliefs. The process of examining it and dismantling it will necessarily be painful. It will feel like waking up to a virus that has been living inside you all these years that you never knew was there. And when you begin to interrogate it, it will fight back to protect itself and maintain its position.” 

Once more, Saad asks the reader to “wake up” to white supremacy as an evil system that proliferates through unconscious design. She likens it to a “virus” in order to conjure the image of illness—something a person may not have chosen, but that requires the proper tools, medicine, and treatment in fight in order to defeat it—even when it is not easily defeated. The image of white supremacy as a “virus” is yet another way for Saad to create a visual for what is an otherwise invisible and amorphous ideology.

“Challenging emotions like shame, anger, grief, rage, apathy, anxiety, and confusion will come up for you if you are doing this work deeply. Don’t run away from those feelings. Feeling the feelings—which are an appropriate human response to racism and oppression—is an important part of the process…White supremacy purposely numbs you to the pain that your racism causes. Doing this work brings back the real feelings of pain of what committing racism actually feels like physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually” 

Antiracist work is first and foremost, as mentioned above, emotional and spiritual work. People with white privilege must “wake up” from the numbing effect of white supremacy in order to understand its effects, begin to see its reach, and create real structural change to address it. Saad warns the reader about challenging emotions to warn them of how difficult these feelings may be, but also how vital they are in antiracist work. This passage advises the reader that pain, shame, guilt, anger, grief, anxiety, disorientation, and other uncomfortable feelings are essential to reaching a new understanding of their complicity in white supremacy, and that there will need to be a certain amount of comfort in discomfort in order to commit to lifelong antiracist action.

“Science has proven that the concept of race is not a biological fact but rather a social concept.” 

This sentence reverberates throughout Saad’s explanations of how white supremacy works and how it oppresses BIPOC. Reminding the reader that race is a social concept rather than a biological or medical one is essential because it enforces the idea that white supremacy is not only unnatural, but something created by human beings to oppress other human beings. Without the social construct of white supremacy, there is no white privilege. Racism and oppression do not originate within nature but were born out of white people’s ancestors’ attempts to justify and rewrite the history of colonialism, imperialism, and BIPOC enslavement.

“In order to dismantle white supremacy, you must understand how much white privilege is a key aspect of your life, how you benefit (whether knowingly or unknowingly) from your whiteness, what that means for people who do not receive that same benefit, and how you can dismantle it. You cannot dismantle what you cannot see. You cannot challenge what you do not understand.” 

The reason this challenge takes the form of 28 days of journaling is because of the reasoning Saad cites here: White supremacy cannot be dismantled without seeing and understanding the ways it has specifically benefitted the participant. Writing and journaling are a means to thinking through, comprehending, and challenging one’s own thoughts. By writing about one’s own privileges and how others may not have had the same, as well as the ways one has been complicit in perpetuating white supremacy, the participant is able to become a better ally with a stronger sense of nuance and ability to continuously stretch themselves as they progress in their antiracist work.

“This desire to be seen as good, by yourself and by others, prevents you from looking at the ways you unknowingly participate in and are a part of white supremacy because of your white privilege. Your desire to be seen as good can actually prevent you from doing good, because if you do not see yourself as part of the problem, you cannot be part of the solution.”

Saad repeatedly asks the reader to shift their focus from being a “good” white person or person with white privilege to understanding their own complicity in white supremacy. Wanting to be “good” keeps white people from performing the right actions on behalf of BIPOC because they are continuing to center themselves and their own comfort and privilege, as opposed to centering BIPOC perspectives. By making room to view one’s own complicity in oppressive systems, there is more room to become a part of the solution, rather than focusing on the perfectionist ideal of a flawless white person who never messes up or engages in racist actions or behaviors. Perfectionism is not noble in antiracism work because it does not acknowledge the humanity of those attempting to dismantle oppressive paradigms and creates allies who are less resilient.

“As a writer, it often feels like I’m being pulled in several different directions when trying to express myself. Am I coming across too angry? Am I coming across too soft? If I use these words, will it provoke white fragility, and do I have the emotional bandwidth to be able to deal with that? If I use these words, will they say they prefer me over other Black women doing antiracism work because they think I sound “eloquent”? And how do I make it clear that I do not consider that a compliment—that I consider it anti-Black to both me and other Black women?” 

Here, Saad is transparent in her own anxieties and insecurities in describing white supremacy to explain and reveal how tone policing is weaponized against BIPOC. She shows her own lines of thinking as she writes this book in order to confront the participant with just one way she feels policed and that other BIPOC are likely to feel policed—even though they are not writing a book. The desire to challenge white fragility while not challenging it too much becomes an obstacle to antiracist work, often deflecting from and diverting energy away from the work of dismantling white supremacy. In other words, by questioning her own tone, Saad demonstrates how tone policing centers white comfort rather than structural change.

“When you insist that BIPOC talk about their painful experiences with racism without expressing any pain, rage, or grief, you are asking them to dehumanize themselves. Tone policing is both a request that BIPOC share our experiences about racism without sharing any of our (real) emotions about it and for us to exist in ways that do not make white people feel uncomfortable.” 

This passage illustrates a paradox that BIPOC are forced to enter when tone policed: They must share how they are hurt by racist actions, but are told they cannot use the “wrong” tone in order to keep white people comfortable. Saad poses this as a form of gaslighting that makes BIPOC question whether the subtle forms of racism and white supremacy they experience throughout their lives are real or worthy of examination. She asks the participant with white privilege to feel and dwell within the discomfort inherent in these conversations to provide more just and loving exchanges where BIPOC can candidly and honestly speak about their lived experiences.

“Here is a radical idea that I would like you to understand: white silence is violence. It actively protects the system. It says I am okay with the way things are because they do not negatively affect me and because I enjoy the benefits I receive with white privilege. When I talk about white silence being violent, I am not just referring to the act of staying silent while observing someone making a racist remark or perpetrating a racist hate crime. Those are the extreme examples that one does not necessarily come across in their day-to-day lives. Remember, white supremacy is not just about individual acts of racism, but rather it is a system of oppression that seeps into and often forms the foundation of many of the regular spaces where you spend your time—school, work, spiritual spaces, spaces, health and wellness spaces, and so on.” 

Saad poses the idea that white silence when witnessing racist behavior does not protect or help BIPOC, but gives the racist systems that allowed it to happen room to proliferate. As mentioned earlier, racism does not have to be overt in order to exist, and people with white privilege need to address racism and oppression whenever they see it—not merely when it is extreme or explicit. Since ideologies and institutions are steeped in and built upon white supremacy, those who have white privilege have a responsibility to call out oppression when they see it, even when it is uncomfortable, awkward, or risky. Allyship is not merely defined by challenging obvious racist incidents or behaviors, but challenging all oppressive systems, however subtle they may be. 

“White exceptionalism is particularly rampant in progressive, liberal, spiritual white people because there is a belief that being these things makes you exempt or above it all. You are not. And the belief that you are makes you dangerous to BIPOC because you cannot see your own complicity and you will not listen when it is being reflected back to you…If you believe you are exceptional, you will not do the work. If you do not do the work, you will continue to do harm, even if that is not your intention. You are not an exceptional white person, meaning you are not exempt from the conditioning of white supremacy, from the benefits of white privilege, and from the responsibility to keep doing this work for the rest of your life.” 

Saad directly addresses the likely audience for Me and White Supremacy: those with white privilege who consider themselves progressive, liberal, and/or spiritual. She makes clear that no one who holds white privilege is exempt from dismantling white supremacy or reflecting their own complicity because those who feel they do not need to engage in the work will perpetuate it. She also addresses the fact that while the book initially spans 28-days of journaling and critical thinking, it is not meant to function as a static, one-time 28-day period of work. Antiracist work is a lifelong commitment and the work being done during these 28 days does not redeem those with white privilege, but ought to act as a jumping off point for the work to come once this challenge is over.

“That is the sticky web of white supremacy. It is not just the binary black or white of you either are a racist or you aren’t. Rather, it is multilayered behaviors and beliefs that make up a white supremacist worldview.” 

The image of white supremacy as a “sticky web” refers to the idea that so many oppressive behaviors Saad breaks down during the challenge—white exceptionalism, tone policing, white centering, etc.—do not operate in a vacuum. Each behavior is one strand of many that comprise an entire web of oppression in which BIPOC can be caught. Saad’s choice of imagery here is yet another way she tries to make white supremacy “visible” to those participating in her challenge.

“The promise of the Church of Color Blindness is that if we stop seeing race, then racism goes away. That racism will go away not through awakening consciousness of privilege and racial harm, not through systemic and institutional change, not through addressing imbalances in power, not through making amends for historical and current-day harm, but instead by simply acting as if the social construct of race has no actual consequences—both for those with white privilege and those without it. The belief is that if you act as if you do not see color, you will not do anything racist or benefit from racism. And if you teach your children to not see race too, you can create a new generation of people who will not do anything racist or benefit from racism.” 

Racial color blindness is, as Saad defines in the quotation above, a belief that by pretending race does not exist, a person with white privilege won’t have to acknowledge white supremacy. She brings in the idea that teaching children to “not see race” is a problem because it creates a cycle of subtle and coded racist behavior, white centering, and white power that not only go unchecked, but that future generations will be unable to openly and honestly talk about. Saad’s desire—and, by extension, all participants in the 28-day challenge— to be a good ancestor means confronting the ways people with white privilege parent and teach future generations to see, understand, acknowledge, and dismantle racism when it occurs. Antiracist work is meant to stop perpetuating this cycle and begin a more critical and thought-provoking way of considering the importance of modeling antiracism.

“Antiracism work that does not break the heart open cannot move people toward meaningful change.” 

As the journaling prompts become more challenging and difficult over the course of the 28 days, Saad reiterates the need for participants to become comfortable with discomfort. “Meaningful change,” or change that helps to unpack and dismantle white supremacy, will not happen if a person with white privilege feels comfortable or centered in the larger antiracism discussion. The feeling of being heartbroken indicates that the participant with white privilege is opening to the experiences and oppression of others. Again, Saad continues to urge readers to channel their sadness, grief, and rage into antiracist work not only during the challenge, but for the rest of their lives.

“Black women are either superhumanized and put on pedestals as queens or the strong Black woman, or they are dehumanized and seen as unworthy of the same care and attention as white women. Both superhumanizing and dehumanizing are harmful because, as Davis rightly points out in her speech, they fail to capture Black women in the mess, joy, beauty, and femininity of women of other races.” 

Saad points out that not all oppression of Black people, especially Black women, is inherently negative. Black women are both dehumanized and superhumanized—only worth of praise when they are beautiful, feminine, and perfect. This is another form of dehumanization because Black women are not allowed to be praised or cared for unless they are “perfect” as viewed through the white gaze. Even if this seems flattering on the surface, it does not allow Black women the same freedom or understanding allowed of white women. This adds a new level of nuance to the journaling challenge—particularly how participants with white privilege hold BIPOC to impossible standards in order to be respected and loved.

“That quickening of your heartbeat when you see Black men caused by your fears, that excited fetishizing of Black men as sexual conquests, that note of surprise when Black men are tender and multidimensional with their emotions, and all those ideas you have about Black men that negatively differentiate them from white men are clear signs that you harbor anti-Blackness against Black men.” 

White people and those with white privilege may not explicitly state their fear of Black men, but Saad argues that that does not mean they do not have a racist perspective. Bodily reactions like the ones she describes including the “quickening of your heartbeat” or “notes of surprise” may seem automatic or unable to control, but they are evidence of internalized white supremacy. Noticing and understanding these physical responses as another aspect of complicity in white supremacy is important for participants to not only recognize and own up to, but also actively work against to minimize further harm to Black men.

“…though a BIPOC can hold prejudice against a white person, they cannot be racist toward a white person. They do not have the power (which comes with white privilege) and the backing of a system of oppression (called white supremacy) to be able to turn that prejudice into domination and punishment in a way that a white person would be able to if the tables were reversed.” 

Understanding the differences between prejudice and racism are vital in antiracism work because this makes it clear how power dynamics can influence and categorize thoughts, behaviors, language, and actions. Prejudice, the act of “pre-judging” someone, can happen to anyone. But racism specifically comes with the “backing” of white supremacist oppression, meaning that people with white prejudice hold additional power and dominance over a BIPOC. This is important to differentiate in order to keep participants from thinking that “reverse racism” against white people is as damaging as racism against BIPOC. While BIPOC may have prejudices against white people, they do not hold the same dominant power over white people and therefore cannot oppress white people in the same way. Without acknowledging this, participants will not be able to truly see the insidious and violent threat racism can be toward BIPOC.

“When we say BIPOC or POC, we are essentially clumping people from all kinds of different cultures and racial experiences into one clumsily assembled group. This flattens their experiences and gives the impression that they all experience white supremacy in the same way, which they do not. The reason why I specifically chose to cover anti-Blackness separately from Indigenous people and POC is because Black people also experience anti-Blackness from these groups. However, just because Indigenous people and non-Black POC can hold anti-Blackness feelings does not mean they do not have their own fraught and abusive experiences with white supremacy.” 

Saad’s explanation for why she separates “anti-Blackness” from racist stereotypes against other people of color is to differentiate how Black people experience a very specific and deeply rooted oppression from those with white privilege. This passage zooms out to warn against using a “flatten[ed]” understanding of people of color from various subgroups and individuals who have experienced abuse, genocide, and other forms of trauma. Rather than delve into every kind of oppression or stereotype to which people of color are subjected, Saad gives her reasoning here to make clear to those with white privilege they are responsible not only for learning about anti-Blackness, that it is up to them to continue educating themselves on the many forms oppression can take in various marginalized groups.

“Tokenism looks flattering on the outside, but the truth of it is that it uses BIPOC as if they are things, not people. Tokenism says that BIPOC are only valuable to people with white privilege to the degree that they can be used for their own agenda.” 

In order to be a good ally, Saad posits that tokenism and holding up BIPOC as “symbols” for diversity is yet another form of white centering. Rather than focusing on the dignity and lived experience of BIPOC in an organization or community, tokenism turns them into an object for white gain. Once again, Saad says this to reiterate the idea that just because someone with white privilege has good intentions doesn’t mean the behavior is antiracist or positive. Pushing participants to critically think about how and when BIPOC are used as tokens opens up the opportunity to humanize, empathize, and center their voices.

“White saviorism is a form of colonialism. It is also a narrative contortion—people with white privilege have historically colonized, harmed, abused, kidnapped, enslaved, and marginalized BIPOC. White saviorism sweeps this under the rug and then rewrites the script.” 

Saad links white supremacist systems and behaviors to history whenever possible; here, she links white colonialism to a modern-day understanding of “white saviorism.” She frames the desire to “save” BIPOC as a “narrative contortion” to argue people with white privilege use white saviorism to justify patronizing BIPOC and marginalizing them for their own gain. Tying this to historical movements also reminds the participant of how white dominance inextricably ties to the violence and abuse used for centuries to subjugate BIPOC.

“But because there is such a focus on being perfect and doing antiracism perfectly and on being seen as good person, people with white privilege often cause more harm when being called out/in because their white fragility causes them not to receive the feedback necessary to listen, apologize, and do better going forward.” 

Once again, Saad emphasizes the importance of allies letting go of perfectionism. This quotation comes toward the end of the challenge, as the journaling prompts evolve to reflect upon future action and commitment. Her discussion on being called out/in is meant to remind people with white privilege that they will, inevitably, make mistakes in the future, and that their resilience is more important in dismantling white supremacy than being “good” and “nice.” The desire to be a perfect ally is another form of white fragility. “Perfect” white allies do not center or uplift BIPOC, though this can happen when people with white privilege are willing to listen, apologize, do better, and continue educating themselves. Allies who can cultivate grit and rebound from mistakes are able to continue antiracist work—even when they stumble.