What’s Love Got to Do with It? Liberating Ourselves from the Ways of White Supremacy

I used to believe that if I cared deeply about racial justice and knew enough about racism, I would be one of the good white people who “got it,” a genuine, white, antiracist ally. This belief drove me to seek as much knowledge as I could about race, racism, and antiracist practices. I majored in Ethnic Studies as an undergraduate and became a classroom teacher with the intention of creating greater racial equity through my role within the educational system. I continued learning through workshops, study groups, conferences, and other professional development opportunities. I taught a curriculum with a social justice lens and worked hard to implement the best teaching practices I knew, all while doing my best to create caring, connected classroom communities. What was outside of my awareness back then was how, no matter how much I knew or cared, I continued to manifest white supremacist patterns in my internal and external ways of being.

One especially harmful pattern was my sense of self-righteousness. I was sharply critical and judgmental of other white people who I deemed to be unenlightened about race, distancing myself from many of them as a result. At the same time, I did not have authentic and close friendships with BIPOC colleagues or people in my personal life. I also had a habit of comparing myself to other educators regarding knowledge and action about race issues, which left me feeling either superior to them or wanting to put them on a pedestal. I felt anxious about conferences with parents of my BIPOC students and nervous about how those parents perceived me and my teaching. In staff meetings, I largely stayed silent about the ways I saw racism showing up in our school while, outside those meetings, I was consistently criticizing how racial inequities were not being addressed. Rather than being direct with school leaders, I mostly chose to share my criticisms in side conversations with colleagues I trusted would back me up. When I did speak in the collective environment, I spoke from a place of wanting to show what I “knew” rather than from the capacity to take ownership and join with others. The truth is, despite indicators that my students were engaged, academically successful, and emotionally connected, I was always afraid on some level that I would be called out for the race and class inequalities which on some level I knew still existed in my classroom. 

As I struggled, internally and externally, to be a “good white teacher” while trying to stay on top of everything else that “good teaching” involves, I regularly felt overwhelmed. I would arrive home for my “second shift” as a single mom to two sons wanting to be fully present, but mostly feeling drained and exhausted. I had very little time and space to genuinely reflect on my teaching. When I did, self-critical questions arose. “How could you know and care so much about racism and still perpetuate racial inequities in your own classroom? What is wrong with you? How can you still be so inadequate?” But in truth, I didn’t have the capacity, resilience, and inner strength to address these questions. So I mostly suppressed them, distracting myself with the many legitimately urgent tasks at hand; creating lesson plans, grading homework, and swearing at the photocopy machine, which had the cruel habit of jamming or breaking down precisely when I was the most pressed for time.

Then one day in 2012, a close colleague, and now beloved friend, told me about an organization called The UNtraining. She said they work with racial affinity groups: white people work with other white people focusing on race with the goal of healing social and personal oppressions. The “more-evolved-about-racism-than-other-white-people” part of me was skeptical. “After years and years of studying racism myself, what could other white people possibly teach me? I doubt they’ve done all the work I have or care as much as I do about this topic.” But something about the opportunity called to me. So I applied to be a part of a “Phase 1” group of 10 white people, who, with two white facilitators, would meet for five hours at a time over a period of six months. 

Finding a New Perspective

What I didn’t realize during the application process was that this was going to be a very different kind of learning experience. Although my previous experiences studying race and racism involved some personal reflection, this would be the first time I would engage in the kind of internal transformation that comes from an ongoing group work. It went well beyond conceptual understanding. 

The UNtraining holistic approach combines a focus on emotional and somatic (body-based) awareness, mindfulness-based tools and practices, and a deep exploration of how our racial conditioning as white people, our internalized white supremacy, manifests within us personally. This internal work informs participants’ understanding of how our actions and inactions create systemic and societal oppression. Doing this work enabled me to stop diverting the attention away from myself and blaming the other white people for systemic racism. What made the Untraining approach effective was the way my facilitators taught and modeled unconditional compassion, while simultaneously leading us in a difficult internal and external exploration. This process broke me open in a way that I had not experienced before. I underwent a shift in how I relate to myself and others around racism and began to find myself better able to align my actions with my deepest values and intentions regarding racial equity.

At first I resisted the notion that compassion should be extended to white people. I would think, “It’s people of color who have suffered because of racism. They’re the ones who need and deserve compassion; not us.” Although I wouldn’t say it out loud, I saw compassion for white people as the ineffective hippy nonsense that certain white people engage in primarily to get themselves off the racist hook. For a while, I continued judging and comparing myself to the other participants, convinced of my superiority. Over time, though, the compassion and connection I experienced began to permeate my sense of self. It drove me to continue to engage, despite my resistance. And then, little by little, a new awareness began to emerge. I started to realize how my outward criticism and judgment actually reflected an even harsher judgment and criticism I was constantly directing at myself, and how paralyzed I was because of it. I saw how it propelled me into guilt, shame, fear, denial, insecurity, and defensiveness when my own manifestations of whiteness came to my attention. I saw how all this prevented me from staying present with myself and others and kept me from doing the liberating work I thought I was so committed to. 

I began to reflect on the truth: how my critical, self-righteousness had actually been working against my antiracist goals by alienating me from others. I was shutting people down and isolating myself from those I could have been inviting into this journey of personal and social liberation. I began to see how painful early experiences had created deep insecurities, which worked together with my white supremacist training to produce an unconscious cocktail of toxic habits. My ways of relating and not relating, communicating and staying silent, along with countless other rigid and automatic patterns were intertwined with systems of oppression and misaligned with my deepest intentions. I realized that this way of being with myself and others is the heart of white supremacy — that the same patterns of harshness, othering, judgment, and cruelty are at the root of historical and ongoing oppression of all kinds.

Ten years later, I continue to benefit from the UNtraining, as a participant, and, for the last eight years, as a facilitator for Phase 1. As an ongoing member of this community, I experience the fruits of this transformational work more and more. What I’ve come to understand is that cultivating our compassion for ourselves and others, yes even and especially for other white people, is the work. I’m not referring to a superficial compassion that could be manipulated to avoid accountability for racial harm. I am referring to the open, courageous, and even broken-hearted aspects of our human experience that move us to take responsibility for the harm caused by our white supremacist conditioning. It is the understanding of myself as love that gives me the strength, the resiliency, and the courage to hold the seemingly contradictory truths of my essential goodness and the harm I cause due to my white conditioning. It enables me to feel what those truths involve so that I can stay with them, not tun away as I once did. It helps me find and clarify a path forward that is aligned with who I truly am and what I care most about. 

This way of relating to myself, to other white people, and to the BIPOC in my life has opened up new possibilities for connection, deeper friendships, and professional expansion. My journey on this path of internal development — with all the messiness and imperfection — has enabled me to show up in ways that I never would have been able to before. I will share some examples of the kinds of shifts I have experienced, while acknowledging that everyone’s path is unique. 

Holistic Antiracist Practices

I no longer feel driven to push myself in ways that compromise my well-being even while I remain committed to racial justice. As I sit with the inherent privilege embodied in so much of what engaging in self-care involves, I now prioritize multiple practices during the downtime that I do have — practices that center my holistic wellness, compassion, and ongoing development. Among these practices are meditation, mindfulness, emotional healing work, physical exercise, and journaling. They include prioritizing sleep and connecting with nature. They include listening to audiobooks and podcasts (mostly in my car) that contain wisdom that uplifts and inspires me, spending time with people who are nurturing, and participating in community with others who are committed to unlearning racism and other forms of oppression. They include noticing and appreciating beauty around me, and spontaneously singing and dancing (mostly in my living room or while I’m doing chores). I rarely watch TV or use screens during my downtime. These practices enable me to be more present and resourced in all I do, while being more connected to the version of myself that is aligned with what I care most about. And I no longer experience the depletion and exhaustion that were an ongoing part of my existence in the past. 

Prioritizing care and compassion for myself and my own ongoing growth, even as I grapple with the many demands of work and parenting, has become the fertile soil for all that has blossomed in my life, including my actions for greater racial equity. Through this process, I have found the courage to feel my fear, take more risks, and learn from my failures as well as my successes. 

This learning began when I engaged in action research about my own teaching practice focusing on racial equity. While still developing my confidence as a leader in this work, I imperfectly organized and facilitated an “Understanding Whiteness” group for faculty and staff at my school. It was a very small group at first, and steadily grew in numbers and scope of impact with time. Although I no longer work at that school, the group is still meeting. I am proud of a collaboration I enjoyed with a trusted BIPOC colleague, which resulted in the high school’s first “History of Whiteness” interdisciplinary History and Human Development course. I have also partnered with other white and BIPOC colleagues to create practices and institutional changes focused on hiring and retaining teachers of color and developing equitable practices centered in school culture and belonging for staff and students. I have led faculty/staff development about how whiteness manifests in our teaching practices, and how we can work together to break patterns of our white conditioning in all that we do. I have been able to stay present with and make amends for the racial harm I have caused in my personal and professional life. Best of all, I have been able to develop deep and authentic friendships with more white and BIPOC folks, which greatly enriches my life.

The inner transformation I have experienced has also led me to pursue a livelihood that is more in alignment with my gifts, skills, and strengths. Time and time again, through my teaching, coaching, and training now, I witness how the healing I have done within myself helps shift others' capacity to show up more powerfully in their work for equity. I engage with other white people who want to heal personal and social oppressions within themselves, their communities, and the world. 

I would not be where I am today without the unconditional love of those who have shown me where the journey of healing and loving can lead. The more powerfully I learn to connect to compassion for, and faith in, myself and others, the more I expand my capacity to feel the pain and heartbreak white supremacy creates in the world, and figure out ways to carry that healing forward, personally and collectively. Little by little, I am beginning to understand what it means to live according to the words of UNtraining cofounder Rita Shimmin: “Loving yourself is a political act. We are taught not to love ourselves, and from that place we are easily manipulated. Love yourself so much that this love changes the world.”

Mollie Crittenden has worked as an educator at the elementary and high school levels. More recently she has been working as an integral life coach, transformational instructional coach, and regularly facilitates white affinity groups supporting educators and people in a wide variety of professions to expand their capacity to act as racial justice allies. More at www.molliecrittenden.com.