The trifecta of white supremacy, capitalism and patriarchy work to keep us apart: the rich from the poor, the privileged from the disenfranchised, U.S.-born from immigrants, aggressors from victims, young from old, me from my Black neighbor.

Together, these three forces form white supremacy culture, and through this culture, we disconnect from each other.

I am part of a recent phenomenon: the burgeoning of white anti-racist "practitioners”. It's an imperfect label, but I like how it suggests the minute by minute practice of staying awake to the obfuscating racist structures of our culture.

You’re probably familiar with some of the risks associated with this new industry…

My writing this month is geared toward white folks, or anyone wrestling with internalized whiteness. Let’s say you’ve read a few books & listened to some great podcasts about how white supremacy culture works. You want to do something to make things more equitable, more humane, less unfair.

But what do you do?

I don't remember when I became a Stevie Wonder fan. His album Talking Book came out 50 years ago, when I was 10. His music accompanied my childhood, teen years and young adulthood. It's still part of every road trip & dance playlist I'm part of.

It might seem weird to do an end-of-the-year reflection at the end of October, but I have good reason. Almost exactly a year ago, james boutin & I decided to do something together, as longtime educators, for white people, about whiteness. That was November. In January, we launched our first workshop. Coming up next week, we'll hold our last workshop of the year. What a year it's been!

Along these lines, recently a Black woman, a white man and a white woman each asked if my work as a white antiracist facilitator with groups of white people reinforced segregation. It's an important question. I find the answers important, too.

I can't count how many times have I said (or thought), "But I didn't mean to!". The issue of course has nothing to do with my intentions—it has to do with the harm I've caused.

As a middle-aged, middle+ class white woman, I've been spared the ravages of poverty—living it, living next to it, or simply witnessing it. What I haven't been spared are assumptions, biases and blindspots about poverty. This goes for most (not all) white Americans, and is entirely by design. So I'm trying to bust out of the mold.