In the early 1990s, I co-led a workshop called “Unlearning Racism” with Valerie Carvery, a friend and colleague who is African-Nova Scotian.1 When you begin to teach something, you find out what you do not know. This workshop was truly a learning adventure for me.

    Leading anti-racist education is akin to tip-toeing through a mine field. Sometimes we could feel the group carefully skirting a possible blowup; at other times, we stepped on the mine. When this happened, there was an angry backlash

from some white participants. We conducted the workshop five times before we made it all the way through without the process being derailed by conflict.

    Following one of our most explosive workshops, we began to list the different reactions of the white participants to this process of unlearning racism. Later, the descriptions began to fit into three rough groups: 1) the “backlashers,” who deny the existence of racism while making racist statements and expressing outrage that they are forced to listen to stories of racism; 2) the “guilty,” who personalize the issue and become defensive and paralyzed; and 3) the “learners” or “allies,” who use any opportunity to learn more and then act on what they learn.

    Some of the people who took part in our workshop did so because they belonged to an organization that contracted us to lead it, but most came voluntarily as individuals, out of their own interest and concern. As a result, despite saying to

myself that my sample was skewed, on some level I was under the impression that quite a large proportion of the population is willing and able to learn to be allies.

    Years later, however, I was engaged to develop and teach a mandatory one-day workshop on employment equity for provincial civil servants. Teaching people who were forced to be present was a far more gruelling experience. Going through my notes from my five years of teaching mandatory equity

classes, I estimate that approximately 5000 individuals attended these courses. In roughly one out of five sessions, there was enough blatant, nasty bigotry to dominate the tone for at least part, and sometimes all, of the day. Usually one group

was chosen as the target, often depending on the work done by the participants. If the

unit in question dealt with low-income people as part of their work, poor bashing would be the order of the day. If their work involved natural resources, Aboriginal people became the target. Responsibility for prisons and schools brought out bigotry against both Mi’qmaw and African-Nova Scotian people. Attacks on women and LGBT people could pop up anywhere. In two or three sessions each year these appalling attitudes came from a majority of participants, but more often they were expressed by a vocal minority confident that they had the right to dominate everyone’s experience of the day. Sometimes it was clear that the bigotry was a game played to derail the session and test the limits of the teacher. Sometimes participants who are members of the groups under attack told me during breaks, at lunchtime or after the session how frustrated, frightened and angry they felt. Many more must

have felt the same but kept it to themselves. In some cases the aggressive negativity appeared to be intended as a threat to the minority employees.

    Out of the 5000 or so people I taught during that five-year contract, I can literally count on one hand the number of people — five individuals — who had an understanding of the structural nature of oppression and what it means to be an ally. A large majority of the people I met during these courses were well-meaning but in active denial that any form of oppression still exists. If they understood that some aspects of oppression persist, they tended to think it can be dealt with quickly and easily by education and good intentions, and they certainly did not see themselves as perpetrators. I began to distinguish between this group and the outright bigots, dividing the people I formerly thought of as “backlashers” into “backlashers” and “deniers.” The two groups require a different teaching approach, which I discuss in Chapter 9.

    What “backlashers” do is repeat the worst stereotypes about oppressed groups. Theft, dishonesty, corruption, laziness, greed, manipulation, whining, excuses, over-sensitivity, “playing the race card,” domination of the oppressor group, sexual perversion and violence are declared to be “just the truth.” If contradicted, this group insist that they’ve experienced it personally or know someone who did.

    Deniers say things like: “That all happened a long time ago,” “I’ve never hurt anyone different from me,” “It’s a theoretical problem,” “I feel silenced by Black/ gay/etc. people; I can’t say anything right,” “My brother worked in Jamaica/a gay bar/the North End and said there it’s the other way around,” “Women/Black people/gays/etc. treat men/white people/straight people/etc. worse than the other way around” (or “Women/Black people/gays/etc. treat each other worse than men/white people/straight people/etc. treat them”), “You’re talking about a few bad apples; don’t blame the whole barrel,” “Don’t jump on me, I was just asking a question,” “It’s just human nature to discriminate against someone who’s different,” “If only they didn’t …” “Some of my best friends are Black/gay/poor/etc.,” and above all, “I’m not racist/sexist/heterosexist/ableist/etc.”

    The two groups’ statements sometimes overlap, but there is a difference in the level of anger and aggression. “Backlashers” try to commandeer the session and dominate the conversation. They are out to attack marginalized group members, present or not, the teacher, and anyone who defends either. When they discover they cannot get away with direct attacks, they try to disrupt the session. Favourite tactics are texting on their cellphone, resisting participation with surly silence, carrying on side conversations, organizing games such as tic tac toe out of the teacher’s line of vision, vandalizing flipcharts and handouts, deliberately breaking the rules or cheating during simulation exercises, repeating the same point over and over again whatever the explanation or response, inserting nasty comments just quietly enough that the teacher can’t hear and laughing. When the teacher asks to have the comment repeated, they will say something like, “You don’t want to know,” followed by another laugh. A great deal of time is wasted in boundary setting and, even if they grudgingly respect the limits teacher sets, the atmosphere

of the session becomes negative.

    The “deniers” can become angry but not to the same degree. Often they are more confused or frustrated. Many are open enough to explore new information in a curious, or at least honest, way. Neither group sees the collective, structural aspect of oppression or their own privilege. Both take too little personal responsibility.

    The “guilty” also fail to see the collective, structural aspect of oppression but they take on too much personal responsibility. They feel crushed, powerless, unable to move. They sometimes think the person or situation that made them aware of the problem disempowered them and they react with anger. They often seek forgiveness from someone they see as a representative of the oppressed group. Privilege is often invisible to the “guilty” group, too, or if they see it, it just adds to their immobilizing guilt.

    “Backlashers” and “deniers” do not understand the meaning of oppression for those who experience it; the “guilty” are all too aware of it, but they are inclined to react as if nothing can be done. “Backlashers” and “deniers” tend to think the current North American model of “democracy” is working and people could solve their problems if they “just pulled themselves up by their bootstraps.” The “guilty” also believe there is democracy here and that they, as voters and citizens, have the power. If something is not working, it must be their fault.

    Members of the “ally” group, on the other hand, are much more critical of the real power structures of North America and the world. They look at things from a “structural” perspective. They have an understanding of themselves as part of a people or various peoples. They understand that if something is done to another member of their own group, it could just as easily happen to them. For example, they understand that if a woman is raped, it is not because she asked for it, dressed seductively or went where she should not have; it is because she is a woman and it could happen to any woman. Likewise, “allies” understand that, as part of various oppressor groups (white, male, able-bodied, heterosexual, middle or above in the class structure) they did not individually bring the situation about and they cannot just reach out with goodwill and solve it. They understand that they must act with

others to contribute to change. They believe that to do nothing is to reinforce the status quo; if you are not part of the solution, you are part of the problem. Many “allies” still drive themselves too hard and try to do too much, but they do understand that they are part of something much larger and older than they are. They take responsibility for helping to solve problems of historical injustice without taking on individual guilt. Most look for what they can do, with others, in a strategic way and try to accept their limitations beyond that.

    A structural understanding of power relationships is rare in our society. The political/economic/ideological system that keeps power in a few hands has been very successful in developing methods of childrearing and education that ensure

North Americans do not understand power and how it works.2 Those who do understand have usually worked their way to their insights through their own experience, reflection and efforts to work towards social change. “Allies” are distinguished by the following characteristics:

• their sense of connection with all other people;

• their grasp of the concept of social structures and collective responsibility;

• their lack of an individualistic stance and ego, although they have a strong

sense of self, perhaps because they have a strong sense of self;

• their sense of process and change;

• their understanding of their own process of learning;

• their realistic sense of their own power;

• their grasp of “power-with” as an alternative to “power-over”;

• their honesty, openness and lack of shame about their own limitations;

• their knowledge and sense of history;

• their acceptance of struggle;

• their understanding that good intentions do not matter if there is no action

against oppression; and

• their knowledge of their own roots.