jeanettecespinoza | I grew up in a predominately white suburb and as a child and teenager, I wasn’t immediately aware of the racism I was experiencing. On the surface, it appeared we were all on a level playing field. I lived next door to white people, had white friends, was a cheerleader along-side white girls, acted in plays with white people, and even had sleep-overs at white people’s homes. To me, I was welcomed into white spaces so my exposure to white supremacy was minimal.
But this bubble of protection was broken during my sophomore year when I began to reflect on my high school experience.
I was a cheerleader, but I was the only Black girl on the squad.
I was an actor, but the roles I played were designed for white characters.
I was invited to sleep-overs but was often either the only Black girl or one or two out of the fifteen or twenty girls in attendance.
Of the white friends I had, I could probably be counted as their only Black friend. While I knew many white people, for most of them I was their only exposure to someone of a different ethnic background on a regular basis.
The playing field was anything but level.
When this became evident to me, I approached our guidance counselor to ask about creating a Black studies group where Black students could come together and share experiences and white students could come to learn more about our culture and world views. The counselor, who was a white woman, welcomed my suggestions and offered to facilitate the group. I was beyond excited that we would be doing something to make a positive difference and couldn’t wait to get started.
But when the group began, only a few Black people showed up, and no white people came at all. It was great getting together with my Black friends to discuss our experiences, but this was something we did all the time when we got together. My objective was to help create a space where white people would begin to understand our stories and use their privilege to create more all-inclusive spaces, but there was zero desire to make this happen.
After one meeting, I stayed after to talk to the counselor about my frustration with the lack of white participation and her answer has stayed with me for decades:
“It’s a brave effort, Jeanette, but realistically, it's hard for white people to reckon with racial disparity. It’s a lot to ask young white people who have been sheltered from adversity to talk about the difficulties Black people have to deal with. Most probably aren’t equipped to deal with that much pain and trauma.”
Even as a fifteen-year-old I remember thinking if it's too much for them to just discuss it, what about those of us who have to deal with it and will experience it for the rest of our lives? That day it became clear to me that the feelings of white people took precedence over my actual pain and suffering, and at that moment, my innocence and open view of the world was forever compromised.
