Passive vs. Active Anti-Racism: What It Is and Why It Matters
/by Monina Reyes, LPCC
I learned the language of resilience before I mastered the complexity of the English language. It was a cloudy day in San Francisco, California, and my family of five was navigating through the congested alleyways as a means of reaching our final destination: the Golden Gate Bridge. Or maybe it was Alcatraz Island. It was some sort of cheesy tourist attraction fitting for an Asian family that was visiting the Bay Area for the first time, okay? That’s all that my mind will allow me to remember about the what/where/when of that day, anyway.
Suddenly, an older white man was face-to-face with my mom and dad. Ironically enough, that 5-minute interaction comes to me as clear as day — I could probably paint you a picture of our specific physical placements, if you asked. My dad, fanny pack positioned diagonally across his striped polo shirt, next to my mom (who I’m sure had a goofy, yet endearing hat on), while I stood to their left. My brother and sister to the back of us somewhere, blissfully ignorant to the exchange of words that would become imprinted onto my history.
“Do you want these ferry tickets? My family and I can’t make it anymore.” My dad and mom stared blankly, taken aback by this unexpected, and aggressive, advance. It seemed, and felt, aggressive to 8-year-old me, at least. Or maybe I was 12. When microaggressions and implicit bias become the bookmarks that denote different chapters of your life, the years tend to start to blend into each other. It can get to a point where you can no longer tell where one chapter starts and one stops, morphing into one really, really, really, long chapter that encapsulates the whole book.
“Hello? Do you understand?”
I wonder if this is common American etiquette — to approach strangers on the street with some kind of offering without their consent.
I notice that the white man increasingly becomes more agitated, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration while my parents’ eyebrows mirror his, but as signs of confusion. “Do you speak English?”
He throws his hands in the air and lets out an exasperated sigh. He continues to try to communicate with my parents, slower now though, I noticed.
“E N G L I S H? You talk? Understand?”
He starts to wave his hands frantically in front of my parents’ faces, as if they were unable to see him. Their eyes were clearly open.
When that didn’t seem to solicit the type of response he was looking for, he began to move his hands and fingers in some sort of pseudo-sign language type of way. Finally, he storms away, muttering something under his breath, which, retrospectively, I am glad I did not hear.
It’s funny, and almost cruel, what our mind chooses, or allows us, to remember. While I cannot remember the itinerary for that day in San Francisco, my body remembers how it felt to be a young girl wanting to defend her parents at that moment. Wanting to, but unable to. Within those five-minutes, I could have sworn that I was holding my breath the entire time. That the street somehow cleared out, leaving just me, my family, and this white man. Time stopped, as did my ability to fight or flight. Instead, I froze.
To this day, I still think about everything that I could have said to that man to ward him away — as if I could have done anything at that age to call out racism. I now know that part of the reason why I could not name it for what it was, was because I didn’t know what it was.
Racism is broadly defined as a systemic hierarchy based on race that has become enmeshed with our institutions, policies, and culture, in a way that benefits white people and keeps traditionally marginalized individuals in a position of disadvantage. This sense of subordination is maintained by individual actions, sociocultural norms, and institutional structures.
It is critical to understand that there are two overarching categories of racism: passive and active racism. Active racism includes explicit actions taken in order to maintain the system of racism and the continued oppression of those in targeted racial and ethnic groups. This may look like overt advocacy for the preservation of the position and “rights” of the members of the agent group (e.g. Ku Klux Klan members holding a public rally to promote white supremacy).
On the other hand, passive racism is less obvious, yet just as malicious. These are implicit beliefs, attitudes, and actions that inherently contribute to the maintenance of racism, often stemming from unconscious/implicit biases. Microaggressions are commonly grouped under the umbrella of passive racism; specific examples include phrases such as “I don’t see color” and “you speak good English for a [insert racial/ethnic group member here]” as well as perpetuating the myth of meritocracy, assumption of intelligence/deviancy/etc., pathologizing cultural communication styles, or simply acting as a bystander in the face of injustice.
Therefore, we must be committed to embodying acts of active anti-racism in exchange of passive anti-racism. It has never been enough to simply verbalize a stance of anti-racism, and it will never be enough. We must be able to recognize and act on the fact that individual liberation cannot exist without collective liberation. Here is a visual that clearly distinguishes between passive and active anti-racism, as well as differences between ally behavior and anti-racist advocacy:
It is necessary to not only claim anti-racism, but to continually work towards equity among and within communities, either through policy and advocacy work, or through conscious dismantling of internalized narratives rooted in bias and prejudice. Eric Deggans, in collaboration with Dr. Anneliese Singh of Tulane University, highlights a few tips that can inform our anti-racist work:
1) Accepting that we, as Americans, have all been raised in a society that empowers white culture above others; being anti-racist means first confronting and challenging this notion within ourselves;
2) We must learn the history of racism and anti-racism within America in order to strengthen our educational foundation;
3) Purposely seek out media that will challenge our ingrained notions of race and culture, being able/willing to learn to see anti-racism in novel ways;
4) Finding local organizations that participate in anti-racism efforts — preferably led by BIPOC individuals and communities — and intentionally working to uplift their voices and efforts.
This is certainly not an exhaustive list, nor is anti-racism advocacy a fixed realm. The field is constantly evolving as a response to change, growth, and the continuous unveiling of the effects of power, privilege, and oppression, on both a micro- and macro- level. Thus, we as individuals must also be open to constant evolvement, in order to ensure alignment and continued solidarity.
I might not have known what racism was on that day in San Francisco, but I learned. And I continue to learn.
Our therapists here at Umbrella Collective are continuously dedicated to educating themselves about, and embodying, anti-racism practices. If you are interested in incorporating anti-racist and anti-oppressive principles within your personal healing, I encourage you to check out our therapists here: https://www.umbrellacollective.org/therapists. If you are interested in incorporating anti-racist and anti-oppressive principles within your organization, reach out to admin@umbrellacollective.org to learn more about our DEI offerings.
https://www.npr.org/2020/08/24/905515398/not-racist-is-not-enough-putting-in-the-work -to-be-anti-racist
