In the audience at cultural events

That’s good, right? Shouldn’t we also at BSR be talking about how we need more togetherness in the world?

I think we should look more carefully at context and history — and pay close attention to our language.

Adversity or diversity?

The phrase “overcome diversity” reminds me of the common phrase “overcome adversity.” Adversity, diversity; are these phrases interchangeable? What do we mean when we say overcome?

We overcome challenges, obstacles: things that are bad, things we don’t want. So why are my fellow white folks getting in front of the crowd and tacking that word onto diversity?

The underlying (perhaps unconscious) implication is that an environment with a diversity of people — by race, gender, ability, or another factor — is an innate threat. Must diversity be tamped down? Do we have to agree to ignore it before we get to know each other or progress toward a common goal?

White fragility 101

I think white people using phrases such as “overcome diversity” are part of what author Robin DiAngelo describes in her book White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk about Racism.

DiAngelo explains that white people like her (and like me) consciously and easily live racially segregated lives, from our neighborhoods to our children’s schools. Sometimes we even espouse antiracist ideals from our majority-white enclaves, which were engineered for centuries to exclude people of color.

My own bias

What does that mean? In her book, DiAngelo illustrates by using an anecdote about traveling with a fellow workplace-diversity trainer, a black woman named Deborah. DiAngelo suggests they take a relaxing getaway at a resort in northern Idaho, but Deborah laughs. The Aryan Nation hate group, Deborah explains, is building a compound near the resort. Certainly not everyone in town is a white nationalist, but the proximity to this group is no less “terrifying” for her.

“Deborah did not want to be isolated in a virtually all-white environment and have to interact with white people who may have never met a black person before,” DiAngelo writes. As a white person, she never experiences the same feeling: “All places I perceive as beautiful are open to me racially, and my expectation is that I will have a pleasant and relaxing experience there.”

Once I thought about it, I realized I’m also full of these failings. For example, I recently emailed someone I’d neither met nor seen. The person had a gender-neutral name — and I assumed I was speaking with a white man.

A few days later, I met the person — a black woman — and as I smiled and shook her hand, I privately faced my own implicit bias in favor of white people and even an internalized bias against women.

I don’t have to be actively racist to acknowledge that my default view of my colleagues is affected by norms that put white people (especially white men) first.

“Optical racism”

When we don’t face our own implicit bias, we combat only what antiracist educator L. Glenise Pike calls “optical racism.” That’s the racism that’s easy for us to see in others: racism we think we can fix (and, in the process, maybe enjoy some social capital).

“Many are enamored with the blatant racism of others (and how to quickly solve it), rather than the latent racism within themselves,” Pike writes. “Antiracism is self-work. Always will be. It’s not sexy. But it’s true.”

Show up and listen

White folks in Philly talking about “overcoming diversity” at public events may be good examples of Pike and DiAngelo’s points. What would that overcoming look like? At best, we could pretend everyone has the same experiences and identity, even though they clearly do not. At worst, it could mean literally removing people of color from the space.

What does this have to do with BSR? As editor, it’s important to me to stay on the scene, getting my butt into lots of different seats so I can listen, learn, and reflect. One thing I’m learning is that I don’t want BSR to be a place where we "overcome diversity."

BSR should be a place where we notice, enjoy, learn from, and celebrate diversity. No matter our backgrounds, we can then see where that celebration leads inside ourselves.