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To My Fellow Conservatives

By Elizabeth Cranford Garcia

February is Black History Month. Hopefully everyone has seen “Hidden Figures” by now, and joined in the applause at the end for the heroism of those women who did not let prejudice prevent them from excelling and serving their country.

But there’s a line in that movie that is barely noticeable, and that few of us (and by “us,” I mean white people, especially white conservatives) really understand. Dorothy says to her companions, “Any upward movement is movement for us all.”

We know what she means–that she’s referring to the advancement of her race. But do we really understand the psychological impact of that position? And why is it relevant in 2017?

Some of you are thinking, “Wait, did she just admit to being a white conservative?? Where’s a rock?!”

Some of you are thinking, “Um, I think she’s about to give me another lecture about #Black Lives Matter.”

Some of you are thinking, “What can a white girl teach me about this?” (The answer to that one is, “Probably nothing.”)*

So who am I, and get to the point:

I was born and raised in Georgia. I went to a public high school where Caucasians made up about 30% of the demographics. So I had (and still have) black friends. My background and past voting habits have also leaned conservative, based not merely on what my parents taught, but some of my own research. But because I have so many friends and family of all political persuasions who I deeply care for and whose integrity I respect, I have usually considered myself in the middle; I can usually find a way to understand disparate points of view.

More and more, I realize that this is not common enough. Consider this animation that maps the long trend of polarization of the parties. I have no doubt that it has come about due to frequent demonization on both sides, the ad hominem attacks, the straw man and either/or fallacies. There’s too much ranting and not enough real listening. Not the kind that involves offense or defense, but the kind of listening that seeks first to understand completely, then to problem solve. The kind that involves recognizing when the paradigms are so different that you must completely lay aside your own before you can understand. Anyone who has been married for longer than 5 minutes should be familiar with this.

You have to take off your own shoes before you can put on someone else’s.

In that spirit, I have some thoughts I’d like to share specifically with people whose background is similar to mine: white, conservative, not necessarily southern, but you have friends of all ethnicities, and you consider yourself a decent human being. You’re tired of being called Racist. Of being portrayed as misogynistic, xenophobic, homophobic, poor-excuse-for-a-human-being-ic. Tired of being associated with real racists and skinheads, because what you see every day is people getting along, white and black. You’re tired of Democrats not listening to you. You just want the federal government to stop taking everything over and screwing it all up. You believe in the constitution, you’re patriotic. And when people say that the cops in our country are Racist, you provide statistics like this, which are clearly logical–and therefore, you don’t have to listen. You know better.

I understand where you’re coming from. I’ve had these thoughts myself.

I have also spent the last several years with this question tumbling through my head: Can you be a Racist and not know it?

I first heard Oprah assert something like this years ago, and I thought about it for a long time. I self-reflected. I watched the documentary about Black Mormons and (certainly learned a few things about historical events in our church), and examples of micro-aggressions people had experienced.

My gut wants to say, “No! I’m not!” Because I have no enmity towards others, and God knows my heart. And if He isn’t going to hold it against me if I say something that accidentally offends someone, why should anyone else?

The tendency for most of us who have faced these kinds of questions is then to become a bit thick-skinned about any kinds of accusations of racism. To think, “They’re exaggerating,” or “They’re being manipulated by party leaders.” Or, “Why do they always have to set things on fire?”  And therefore–we can disregard whatever else that group might be asserting (like Black Lives Matter). Because their viewpoint must not be based on reality.

Here comes the “take off your shoes” part. (Really: take a minute and kick them off. Wiggle your toes. Get comfy. Pretend you’re listening to your spouse, your BFF. You’re curious.) Remember, if we want our society to be made of people who are willing to understand us, we have to be willing to understand.

Consider these ideas (a few these I’ve only just come to understand and appreciate recently):

  • As white people, we are accustomed to thinking of ourselves as individuals, that one’s choice and accountability reflects only on oneself (and maybe one’s family). That even though other white people might be racist, I’m not, so it doesn’t affect me.
  • This isn’t the case if you are black: W.E.B. Dubois explained this idea of double consciousness back in the early 20th century. If you’re black, you’re conscious of yourself as black, as a collective, and then as an individual. And things haven’t changed. For generations, the actions of a black individual spoke for the entire race. For generations, the entire black race has been judged by its individuals. This is what Dorothy meant in the movie. Being black means representing your entire race, not just yourself. This is the weight of being first Black, and second, an individual.
  • Consider this essay, written by a well-educated black man, who tells about his experience walking through the streets of Chicago.
  • When you see blue lights in your rearview mirror, are you annoyed, or afraid? Consider the young black male in this story.
  • This is what “white privilege” means.  It means we don’t carry the load of history on our backs every time we apply for a job, or walk down the street, or get pulled over. We don’t have to prove anything about our entire race–we only have to prove who we are as an individual.

So if you don’t like the “R” word–if that keeps you from understanding because it contradicts your experience–think about it this way: Your freedom to be seen primarily as an individual, and not a collective, is a privileged position, and affects the way you see the world. And you may never see the world around you the way people of color do, because generations of your family haven’t had to resist years of prejudice and violence.

So, what about “reverse” racism? Why do they lump all white people together and call them racist?

And I would then say: Are you surprised?

I read this poem a few weeks ago, and it brought home all that I’d been thinking about. If you don’t remember the incident in the title, you can read about it here:

Jasper texas 1998


for j. byrd


i am a man’s head hunched in the road.

i was chosen to speak by the members

of my body. the arm as it pulled away

pointed toward me, the hand opened once

and was gone.


why and why and why

should i call a white man brother?

who is the human in this place,

the thing that is dragged or the dragger?

what does my daughter say?


the sun is a blister overhead.

if i were alive i could not bear it.

the townsfolk sing we shall overcome

while hope bleeds slowly from my mouth

into the dirt that covers us all.

i am done with this dust. i am done.


(Did you notice the year? 1998. Not ancient history.)

Can we really say that, being white, we feel anything close to the psychological fatigue expressed here? Is being called “racist” really just as bad as living through generations of being treated as subhuman? I don’t think it compares.

I don’t really have any specific call to action here. If you’ve been willing to read this, and read the stories linked here, and spend time pondering, and consider a new paradigm, that’s the beginning of something. (I myself still have a long list of books to read to get some more answers about why the political divide is the way it is because I’m not satisfied with the divisive narratives that are out there.)  

But hopefully, when you put your own shoes back on, you will feel the difference. You’ll remember how paper-thin the soles of those other shoes were, and how they pinched your feet.


*For my friends of color, I hope I have fairly represented some of the things you have experienced if it’s somewhat generalized. I have come close to posting this many times over the last few months, and talked myself out of it because I’ve felt like it isn’t my place. My intent is to build understanding among people to whom these ideas are a bit foreign.


How do we avoid being dismissive of others’ deeply held beliefs, experiences, or paradigms?

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About Elizabeth Cranford Garcia

Elizabeth Cranford Garcia is the current Poetry Editor for Dialogue: a Journal of Mormon Thought, previous Poetry Editor for Segullah, and a contributor to Fire in the Pasture: 21st Century Mormon Poets. Her work has appeared in a variety of journals and anthologies, and her first chapbook, Stunt Double, was published in 2015 through Finishing Line Press. Her three small children compete with her writing for attention, and usually win.

13 thoughts on “To My Fellow Conservatives”

  1. I do know that the more we talk about race and promote racial differences or indifferences we will continue to have racism. The Black Lives Matter movement is a case in point that promotes racism.

  2. Hmmm. Respectfully, Rob, I cannot imagine why that would be true. "Talking about race" seems like EXACTLY what we should be doing more of! Ignorance breeds fear, and behavior rooted in fear is never useful or goal-oriented, and very often retaliatory, defensive, angry, and violent. Ignorance is one of those words that illicits an immediate reaction (like the "racist" word noted above) but I find that when I take a breath and LISTEN, I can admit that unless I make space to hear and feel and stretch, I am inherently ignorant of the realities of life for ANYONE who isn't me, and most especially those whose experiences vary so widely from my own. The only way to combat that ignorance is to listen to people who are talking– most especially when it makes me uncomfortable. I cannot think of an instance where MORE information isn't beneficial, and can't imagine why that wouldn't also be true here.

    And also, #blacklivesmatter. How could anyone argue otherwise?

  3. I try to make myself always remember 1) God's instruction to leave judgment to Him and 2) that one of God's greatest daily gifts to me is His willingness and ability to listen to me completely, fully comprehending, and with love as I struggle to learn and live truth in this life.

    I believe that He listens that way to each of us whether we are angry or content, fearful or confident, despising or loving, whether we believe we can trust Him or believe we cannot trust Him at all or believe that He's a bunch of crock, and whether or not He thinks we are correct in our understanding, or somewhat correct in our understanding, or totally off-base and wrong.

    I try to remember that if I am to become like Him I must become a being who is able to listen the same compassionate, understanding way that He does.

  4. Nicely said.

    So strange that the first answer is a white guy saying he'd be more comfortable if we'd all so taking about race and go back to the status quo, that'd be fine.

    That makes me sorrowful. How can anyone read your plea and have that as their first thought.

    I love the concept of taking off our own shoes, first. It seems to me a very symbolic way to prepare to stand on the sacred ground of another person's experience.

  5. Thank you for considering all of this, Liz. What I wrote last summer on this topic pairs well, so I hope you don't mind my mentioning that if anyone on this thread wants to read more from another white Mormon woman who also mothers a black child, look here: https://segullah.org/daily-special/grieve-with-us/.

    And to Rob, please know that your ability to assert that we can prevent racism by not talking about race speaks to your privilege. Some of us simply cannot afford the luxury.

  6. I agree with just about everything you have said, except what I understand to be your main premis which is: unless (and until) we fully understand another race's history and resulting psyche, we are racist. (Please correct me if I am wrong.)

    I can read everything that is out there and I will not fully understand what it means to walk in a black man's shoes. And I will never fully understand all that my white privilege entails. Nor will I ever pretend to fully understand either. I think a better guage of our "racism" is the level of our compassion, and really no one person can determine another person's compassion. Two people with equal compassion can have different ideas about how to deal with political and social issues. I think we would probably all be better off dropping all labels and focus on developing our own compassion toward everyone.

  7. Of course black lives matter. But i think you confuse a principle or ideal with a polotical movement. Two people can agree that black lives do in fact matter, and still disagree on tje black lives matter political movement. So please do not suggest that anyone who does both believe in or agree with one particular political approach is wrong, or worse, racist.

  8. I have a foreign exchange student living with our family this year. His skin color nor his nationality makes any difference to me. But, the moment we start saying he is underpriveledged or his nationality needs elevated and celebrated we create racism. Black lives matter, and for that matter, black history month just continues the racist mentality. We dont have white history month or jewish history month or anything like that, it would be considered racist to do such! Thats why I dont celebrate or acknowledge black history month. I dont judge people by the color of their skin and as such neither do I elevate and celebrate the color of ones skin over another.

  9. This was beautifully written and expressed. That poem is chilling. I admit I am baffled by white people who think talking about race or racism makes it worse! White people have the privilege of not having to talk about race or racism–people of color do not. We (clueless white people like myself) need to do a better job of listening even though–maybe especially–because it makes us uncomfortable. Lean into that discomfort and open up. The USA was built on racism and we are all it's products.

  10. Actually, my main premise is that while we may not be racist (enmity, or even subtly believing that one race is superior), we need to acknowledge the fact that as white people, we tend to be blind to our privileges. In order to understand the assertions and philosophies behind #blacklivesmatter, behind proponents of having a Black History Month, behind the scholarship of African American studies–we need to recognize that privilege. (It's analogous to the privileged life we live in America, where those under the poverty line still have a much higher standard of living than in third world countries. When you gain a perspective about your situation, it should make you grateful and also motivate you to use your resources wisely, to help others. It should open your heart to compassion rather than building resentment. This is the goal of my article, not to suggest labeling or criticism.


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