I took a class at Rutgers University called “Race Relations” where I was first exposed to the concept of white privilege and the statistics and personal stories surrounding discrimination and racial disparities.
Shortly after this class, I graduated and went for an interview for the position, Family Support Worker, for a public health program aimed to reduce Black infant mortality. I knew that Black infants are twice as likely to die during their first year of life compared to White infants, and I wanted to combat this injustice.
My supervisor, a woman of African American and Chinese descent, spoke with me about race and ethnicity very openly at our first meeting. She thought the job would be a good fit because I was committed to social justice and combatting health disparities. She also felt I had strong, intuitive relational skills that would help me when I visited women and had tough conversations about race with them. As a White middle-class, childless woman, I knew that there were stark differences between me and the women, but I believed in the work and really enjoyed working with women and families.
The program was aimed to educate, create awareness, and provide support to women and the greater community around this issue. I visited low-income, pregnant women who voluntarily participated in the program. They were African American mostly. I expanded the program to African women who had recently immigrated to the U.S. when I learned through research that after a generation of living in the U.S., African immigrants began to lose their infants at the same rate as African Americans.
My clients and I discussed Black infant mortality, the injustice of the health disparities, racism, sexism, and classism. Women allowed me to come into their homes every month to visit, hear about their lives, and listen to their concerns and questions about their pregnancy, health care, and other concerns. I came from an empowerment framework, where the women were the experts, but I would share information and resources that could assist them with their goals. I taught them how to navigate the health care system, and how to advocate for themselves when working with health care professionals. It was extremely important to me for their voices to be heard. During my time with them, women learned or enhanced their skills and improved their own health care services through their own advocacy.
I had awesome experiences with the women in the program. Simultaneously, I struggled at times in the program because some professionals expressed anger towards me in my role because I am White.
People said to me:
“You shouldn’t have that job. A Black woman should have that job.”
“Why do you care about black infant mortality?”
I did not know how to respond to these statements. I think I now have better skills and perspective to talk about these issues and explore the source and feelings behind the reactions and responses. Before, I felt too intimidated and upset to respond when these reactions happened. Now I think I would validate and support, while trying to learn and understand.
When I learned about the murder of Trayvon Martin, I was horrified. I followed what happened to see if justice would come for him and his family. However, as I learned more about Florida’s self-defense law and how absurdist and cruel its implications were in this situation, I lost hope and stopped following the news.
I now work with survivors of family violence and sexual assault. I co-facilitate a support group and provide one-on-one counseling. I somewhat felt like I needed to shield myself from any more trauma than what I am already exposed to in my professional life.
At a first glance, I felt that this is why I was able to tune out Trayvon Martin’s murder and its impact on others, until I came to class last Thursday. I then began to think about how I had the privilege of tuning out the horror because it did not directly affect me. This was another manifestation of white privilege. This realization in itself horrified me. Thus, I began to write this post, speak more about the issue in my daily life, and bring it up to people even when it seemed to create discomfort for them. I think that there is an inherent privilege in being able to do these things as well, but I was compelled.
Today I answered the invitation to write on the paper hung in the Social Work lobby by asking others, “What will help us heal?”. I look forward to any response.
Thanks for reading. I am open to and appreciate any feedback.
Sincerely,
Caitlin
Caitlin
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