Why I Stopped Engaging in Social Justice Work

I never stopped engaging in it, exactly. But I lost steam and faith. 

In my first teaching job, I had joined the equity committee, organized a multicultural event, helped teach ELL (English) classes to parents at night, and shocked my co-workers when I stood up one day to a grouchy and domineering veteran teacher making borderline racist comments in the staff lounge. He used to throw around phrases like “The clientele at our school has changed.” If you are not familiar with coded language in the education context, this usually means: “Our students used to be White and well-behaved. Now they are browner, poorer and have behavior problems.” 

More recently I had found myself disengaging from equity work. My participation in it ran hot and cold. I noticed myself entering diversity trainings with more apprehension and less passion. 

The murder of George Floyd and its aftermath, within the unusual context of COVID-19, has caused me to reflect and re-engage in the fight for social justice. This time I am committed to sticking it out for the long haul. 

The fact that “doing equity work” is something I, as a White person, can opt into or out of at any given moment, is the ultimate reflection of White privilege. 

I thought it could be worthwhile to consider the reasons I stopped engaging wholeheartedly in the work of anti-racism in the past, in an effort to remain committed going forward. I will attempt this reflection from a solution-based mindset, and maybe something I share here can help someone else with their own processing. I am also allowing myself to be vulnerably honest.

1. I was too busy with motherhood.

It becomes difficult to take on the larger problems in the world when wrapped up in your own personal survival. The early years of motherhood are all-consuming (see below meme on breastfeeding – this pretty much sums it up). 

Once I became a mom, I had to cut out basically all extracurricular school activities such as committees or event planning. I had little opportunity for reading or extra learning outside my regular work hours. Between teaching full-time, caring for my children and maintaining a household, my mental and physical energy was entirely spent. Staying involved in social justice work fell off the list of priorities.

What this says about my privilege:

Everything I just described is true. No one blames a mother of young children for being in “survival mode” and letting some other important areas of life slip for a time. At the same time, however, it is imperative to acknowledge that Black mothers have to do everything White mothers do AND try to protect their children from racism each day. For White people, the fight for social justice is an external issue that we disengage from when our personal priorities get in the way. For Black people, social justice is a personal priority – their own survival. 

“Too busy” is always a relative term. There is always someone with more or less on their plate, and we choose to push ourselves a little more or a little less in any given circumstance on any given day. My point is, as a busy White mother I have to make a conscious choice to include anti-racism in my life, while busy Black mothers have no choice in that dealing with racism is a part of theirs.

How to stay committed:

Start with something manageable. Most of us navigate over-extended schedules and are about one broken microwave away from being fully engulfed in the flames of Overwhelm. We may not have time to attend protests, write to congress or create a fancy website of resources. Recently I was listening to a Facebook Live with one of my favorite voices on racial equity, Erin Jones, and her husband James. One of them said that we tend to think racial justice work has to be some huge thing, but it can be just as effective to focus on our immediate sphere of influence. Many of the actions we can take do not require additional time in our schedule. Speaking up when you witness injustice (check out the “racism interrupters” from Privilege to Progress throughout the rest of this article). Sharing resources with friends, family members and co-workers who are open to receiving them. Asking questions in your workplace that challenge the status quo.

Talk to your children. This is another strategy that does not require a lot of extra time, just intentionality. I stole this idea from a friend’s Facebook comment years ago: For every conversation that a Black mother has to have with her children about race (police interaction, code switching, dealing with racism in school, etc.), can I as a White mother pledge to have a parallel conversation with my children to educate them on anti-racism? 

Re-think social media use. As busy as we think we are, most of us waste time scrolling social media. Follow people who are also committed to anti-racist work and add more diverse leaders to your sphere. Be more intentional about focusing your media use on articles or podcasts related to social justice. The fitness coach I follow online specializes in short, dynamic workouts for busy moms. Her mantra is “consistency over quantity.” After my kids are asleep, I still have loads of chores to catch up on, and I definitely do not have big blocks of extra time in my day unless I exchange them for sleep. However, I have been trying to re-focus some of my social media use on anti-racism education. I only spend a few minutes on it, but I have been able to form a habit of learning and thinking about this crucial topic daily. 

2. I lost faith.

The more you learn about racism in the United States, the more depressing it feels. For a time, I think I lost faith in the possibility that I could make a difference. I became more pessimistic about the potential to change systems and influence other people’s hearts.

What this says about my privilege:

If people of color lose faith in racial equity, they literally give up on themselves. When I lose faith, I simply give up on an external cause unconnected to myself in any immediate way.

How to stay committed:

This one is like exercise. You just have to keep doing it, over and over again. The more I immerse myself in reading, listening and viewing content related to anti-racism, the more I feel it is right and necessary to continue acting. It is also important to engage in solution-based content and work, rather than endlessly discussing the problems, posting complaints on social media or arguing with strangers online.

3. I felt like a fraud.

After graduating from a Master in Teaching program that focused heavily on social justice, I entered the teaching profession fired up. I spoke up to colleagues, took on conversations about race and racism with students in class and attended any and all workshops, classes or committee meetings.

Three years into teaching, I found myself struggling to be effective (my own evaluation) with diverse groups of students affected by poverty and trauma. I knew I cared about racial equity, yet I knew there were times I personally perpetuated systems of racism in my own classroom. After spending two hours invested in deep conversations with our school equity committee, I would return to a class of children whose behaviors I was growing to resent and whose trauma overwhelmed me. Aware of the biting truth that I was falling short in forging authentic connections with many of these Black and Brown students.

I ended up applying at a school in a higher socioeconomic district, which meant the majority of students entered the classroom with their basic needs met, translating to a more automatic readiness to focus on learning. The new position was a good fit for my skills, and a tremendous weight was lifted from my heart and shoulders. Along this journey, I did lose the belief in myself as an equity champion for students.

What this says about my privilege:

When my self-identity was threatened, I had the liberty to simply flee the situations that made me doubt myself. The working environment at my first school became too difficult for me, so I took my resume and expensive degrees and went elsewhere. When confronted with my own hypocrisy, I had the option to simply disengage from the work of anti-racism. The students of color I taught, on the other hand, had no such escape options. They were stuck in the toxic school culture I chose to leave, one riddled with the dysfunction of educators and administrators who cared deeply but floundered to translate caring into effective practices.

Once I re-installed myself into a more functional and positive school community, where the urgency of racial equity was no longer staring me in the face and kicking my butt each day, I was at liberty to simply dabble in it. As if it were a hobby to do when motivation occasionally struck. People of color enjoy no reprieve from facing the issues of race or racism; they have no option to disengage.

How to stay committed:

The only way to get over the feeling of being a fraud is to continue practicing until you become better. The phrase we use in business, which I believe is the antithesis to the attitude needed when facing anti-racism work, is “fake it till you make it.” I think the key here is humility. 

One trap White people can fall into is “Performative allyship.” Interestingly, I find I have received a lot of undue praise for my mild involvement in social justice work. At times I have felt proud and secretly enjoyed the recognition. Part of this, of course, is just human nature. Doing good feels good. Being recognized feels good. As Joey said once on Friends, “There’s no unselfish good deed.” To push past the point where we merely want to show off that we are one of the “good White people,” I think we just need to stay in the fight long-term. And probably try to shut our traps some of the time. Continue learning, continue taking some kind of action, and it will eventually become less awkward, less mechanical, more natural and truly from the heart. 

4. It was too hard.

The more I learned the less I knew where to start or what to actually do. There are so many layers to this work. There is the work of historicizing – of putting today’s issues into the proper contexts of history that we were never taught in school. Then there is the work of keeping up with current events. Beyond education, we have to take action. We wonder what is most effective. Protesting? Political involvement? Engaging with people one on one to change hearts and minds? Does signing petitions actually do anything? 

Then there is the emotional aspect of taking on this work. The true history of our country is tragic. If you have any sense of empathy as a human being, to fully recognize the pain of people of color is heart wrenching. I have disengaged at times because it was too heavy. After teaching all day, which is already mentally, physically and emotionally draining, sometimes I just do not want to hear the news or listen to a podcast on a serious topic.

Another emotion we have to face as White people is fear of judgement. Will we say or do the wrong thing? I know re-committing to the work of social justice is the right thing to do, but I know I am not the only White person worrying I will come across as a fraud, hypocrite, annoying, performative ally, ignorant, self-important… the list goes on. Again, it becomes tempting to disengage.

What this says about my privilege:

In terms of how it affects me directly, racial justice work is purely academic. I am just auditing the class, and if the next project becomes too difficult and I decide not to do it, nothing happens to me. Black people, on the other hand, are one project away from either graduating or flunking. No matter how hard the work is, their livelihood depends on sticking with it.

From an emotional standpoint, White people fret about other people’s judgment. We worry others will have a negative thought towards us. The biases against POC prevent equal access to jobs, housing, education… air to breathe. Yet as White people we disengage from the work of creating a more just world because of a fear that our ego could get bruised. Ouch.

How to stay committed:

Take on this work as an actual goal. We cannot casually approach social justice, reading books when we find time or attending the occasional workshop when it sounds interesting. This is not a hobby. If we merely “want” to learn more and “hope” to make a small difference, our results will turn out about how they do when we claim we would like to learn guitar or wish to get in shape. 

Achieving a difficult goal requires a massive “why” and a concrete action plan. Reflect on the reasons this work is important. Watching the disgusting footage of George Floyd being murdered jump-started a movement, but sustained commitment to anti-racism will require each of us to explore why this work is personally significant. Even though we are doing it for others, we have to connect it to ourselves. 

Create a specific goal. Consider your particular passion and skill sets. Borrowing from the personal development space, decide ahead of time exactly what you are willing to give up in return for achieving your goal (your sacrifice could come in the form of time, money, comfort, etc.). For a time, I was using a cool app called “5 Calls,” which provides information on current political hot-button issues, scripts and numbers to call Congress. I abandoned the project a few days in, because I despise making phone calls and was not willing to experience this level of discomfort. Now, I am working on finding how I can use my best skills to carry out effective social justice work. As with a career, we are likely to stick it out long term if we are able to use skills we enjoy, find a state of flow or feel a decent degree of competence.

Plan action steps. Find resources and position yourself in communities of people (online or in real life) who will influence you or collaborate with you. Build time for this work so it will become a habit, like exercising or reading to your kids each night. Reflect continually. Expect to be bad at it in the beginning and improve over time. When you feel yourself disengaging, always return to your “why.”