Musings on "white fragility"

You may be aware of the notion of "white fragility." I believe it's a potentially valuable way of looking at white racism, especially if we look at how its original proponent defined it. But I also fear that people will use it in counterproductive ways.

White fragility defined

Sociologist Robin DiAngelo coined "white fragility." The term refers to "a state in which even a minimum amount of racial stress becomes intolerable [to white people], triggering a range of defensive moves." Those moves, she adds, "function to reinstate white racial equilibrium." According to DiAngelo, white fragility exists because

[w]hite people in North America live in a social environment that protects and insulates them from race-based stress. This insulated environment of racial protection builds white expectations for racial comfort while at the same time lowering the ability to tolerate racial stress.

The behaviors that mark white fragility "function to reinstate white racial equilibrium." They close off necessary conversations about racist practices and attitudes and about structural racism. [All quotes in this paragraph come from DiAngelo 2011, p. 54.]

Before I go further, I'll note that DiAngelo has published a book recently (in 2018) where she expands on her ideas about "white fragility." I have not read that book, and this blog posts speaks only about her article.

What DiAngelo gets right

Essentially, DiAngelo gets it right. White people in North America are insulated from what she (and most anyone) can call "race-based stress." Or more precisely, as a group, white people in North America tend to be much more insulated than non-whites.

DiAngelo also is very careful in her language. She doesn't say that all "racial stress" is the same. In the article, she focuses specifically on instances where "merely talking about racism" causes the putative racial stress that evokes the white fragility. [DiAngelo 2011, p. 61, emphasis in original] DiAngelo is also careful to focus on function rather than intention. White fragility doesn't necessarily reflect an intent to maintain racial hierarchy. But it's function is to do so. DiAngelo also acknowledges that not all whites are equally fragile or equally insulated from "race-based stress." [See footnote 1 in DiAngelo 2011, p. 55]

Finally, while I'm going to be critical in much of the rest of this post, I acknowledge that "white fragility" describes something that is both real and hard to put into words. I may criticize others' terminology, but sometimes we need a new set of words to describe things that happen but are hard to isolate.

Limitations of DiAngelo's thesis

Solutions are elusive

DiAngelo's thesis identifies a problem but not a solution. That doesn't mean she's wrong. Just because a problem doesn't have an obvious solution doesn't mean it's not a problem. Even so, to note that white fragility exists doesn't tell us what to do about it. It's also not clear to me how white fragility functions to preserve racial hierarchies. DiAngelo seems to agree [DiAngelo 2011, p. 66]:

While anti-racist efforts ultimately seek to transform institutionalized racism, anti-racist education may be most effective by starting at the micro level. The goal is to generate the development of perspectives and skills that enable all people, regardless of racial location, to be active initiators of change.

Workplace seminars have limits

DiAngelo takes her examples of white fragility from workplace racial sensitivity seminars. She formerly, along with others, has had the mostly thankless and unenviable task of leading these seminars, often in environments where the participants are all or mostly white and not disposed to discuss racism.

In one seminar, she notes that

A white man is pounding his fist on the table. His face is red and he is furious. As he pounds he yells, "White people have been discriminated against for 25 years! A white person can't get a job anymore!" I [DiAngelo] look around the room and see 40 employed people, all white. There are no people of color in the workplace." [DiAngelo 2011, p. 54-5]

In a different seminar, DiAngelo recalls that a white participant exhibited symptoms of a heart attack after hearing "sensitive and diplomatic feedback on how some of her [the participant's] statements had impacted several persons of color in the room." This feedback led the white person to become so upset that she begins to exhibit symptoms of a heart attack. [DiAngelo 2011, p. 64-5]

What's insufficiently explored in both these examples is the compulsory context of such seminars. Most workplace seminars of that sort are required by management. The reasons for those seminars may be for the less than laudatory goals of staving off a lawsuit or buttressing the prerogatives of management without addressing concerns about low salaries or onerous supervisors.

Those seminars likely come off as preachy or scolding, no matter how necessary and well-managed they might be. It's not only a "haters are gonna hate" thing. It's also a "workers put in their time and go home" thing. Most of the workers obligated to attend will sit through the seminar and do the exercises. They'll see it as one more thing they have to do on the clock. Some will buy into it. Some won't.

And the two examples from DiAngelo's essay are not equivalent. Take the angry man who pounds the table and makes the ridiculous claim about white people not getting jobs anymore. That's an instance of someone refusing to take responsibility for handling his own feelings. (Even in that case, though, we need always remember that we don't know that man's story.)

In the second example, however, the person has much less choice. Even if she's not really having a heart attack and is having "only" a panic attack, she nevertheless appears to be suffering from real symptoms, such as hyperventilation or heart palpitations. Someone can choose to learn skills that help them remain calm in the face of benign and well-meaning criticism. But that kind of "choice" is a far cry from choosing panic attack symptoms.

Ruti Regan, who blogs about disability rights, brings up a comparable point. In a blog post addressed to people who lead what she calls "social justice workshops," she warns against ordering people to feel safe:

Feeling unsafe isn’t always privilege talking. It’s always a possibility, but it’s never the only possibility. Sometimes, presenters aren’t actually as knowledgable and perceptive as they think they are. Sometimes, presenters get things wrong in ways that make the space unsafe for the most marginalized participants in the room.

[snip]

We have power as teachers and presenters, and it is possible to abuse that power. Even when the people we’re teaching are more privileged than we are in every relevant way, it matters how we treat them. Being privileged in society is not the same thing as being safe in a classroom. We are all capable of making mistakes that hurt people, and when we make those mistakes, it matters.

(Regan might disagree with the overall point I'm making in this post and the uses to which I put her statements. I recommend anyone interested to read her post in full and other posts from her very thoughtful blog to understand where she's coming from.)

"[M]erely talking about racism" is an ideal type

As I note above, DiAngelo limits her discussions of race-based stress to those scenarios where we're "merely talking about racism. As she knows, however, we're very rarely, if ever, "merely" talking about racism. When it comes to racism, talking is never merely talking. As DiAngelo notes in her essay, whites often use racially coded language. They might speak of "good schools" or "good neighborhoods" when they mean "white schools" and "white neighborhoods." Or they might liken anti-racist activists to bullies or worse. They're not, I would say and she would say, "merely talking."

None of that invalidates what DiAngelo is saying. In fact, she would likely counter that whatever the whites in those examples are talking about, it's not "about" racism. Having to go to a seminar may not be "merely" talking. But the resultant racial stress is nothing compared to the types of racial stress people encounter in less controlled environments. Persons of color have to encounter racial stress every day and in modes less safe than a conversation about the nature of those very encounters. White people, too, encounter racial stress that's not merely "conversation" based, even though as a whole, they may encounter encounter it less often or may have more opportunities to limit their exposure.

Good conversations on race are very hard

White persons new to discussions on race may be confused. The format of those discussions may seem to encourage honest self-reflection and revelation. "Honest" reflections, though, may involve "honestly" repeating racial stereotypes, which in turn evokes criticism. Further, if they regret racism in the wrong way, they might be accused of "white tears." If they don't immediately dedicate themselves to fighting racism, they might be accused of denialism. If they do dedicate themselves to fighting racism, but do so in the wrong way or speak too earnestly, they might be accused of "white knighting" or trying to be a "white savior." If they ask for advice, they may be met with "I'm not here to educate you!."


While I believe that those behaviors arise from an understandable "confusion," I don't condemn the criticisms. Persons of color will understandably resent having to listen to white people repeat stereotypes and work out their personal demons. "White tears" and "white knighting," like "white fragility," describe real things. They are false pieties, easy to proclaim and even easier to cast aside once it's convenient to do so. And while I have little sympathy for the activist who assumes a "let me educate you" role and yet insists "I'm not here to educate you" (something which, to be honest, I don't think I've personally encountered), I have a lot of sympathy for non-activists who resent being drafted against their will into giving lessons on racial etiquette and speaking for all similarly situated persons.

Counterproductive uses of "white fragility"

I identify here two counterproductive uses of "white fragility." These are potential uses. I don't mean to say DiAngelo or anyone else necessarily endorses them.

#1: Ad hominem argument

One counterproductive use of "white fragility" is as an ad hominem argument. If a white person raises an objection to what an activist says, and if that activist responds by stating that that white person suffers from "white fragility" without otherwise addressing the objection, that activist is attacking the person, not addressing the objection.If the objection has no merit in the first place, it should be easily refuted. If it has some merit, maybe it is best to acknowledge what merit the objection has. But if the objection is not answered or addressed at all, the objector and everyone else will know it. Paradoxically, these ad hominems do what DiAngelo accuses "white fragility" of doing. They make the discussion about the white person and not about racism.

I do need to concede something. A person, in their frustration, may think to themselves or vent to their friends that another person is expressing "white fragility." While venting isn't always appropriate or useful, it sometimes is. Even when it isn't, it's often understandable. And it's probably exasperating to hear, for the umpteenth time, a white person react as if they're "hurt" by being exposed to the fact of white racism. Again, "white fragility" describes a real thing.

 #2: The might makes right reductio

Another potential counterproductive use--one I believe few if any anti-racists actually intend--is to feed  the notion that only the strong deserve respect.

Part of DiAngelo's argument is that persons of color have to experience a lot more racial stress than white people typically do. As a result, persons of color develop coping mechanisms and something like "emotional callouses" (I think this is my term, not DiAngelo's) that strengthen them for living in a society in which they're repeatedly reminded of where they fall on the racial hierarchy.

I offer no criticism of that as a descriptive argument. I accept that it holds true most of the time. But by implication a normative argument lurks beneath the surface. That normative argument suggests that white people should be criticized for being fragile--not for the choices they make in the face of their fragility, but for the fact of fragility itself. If we take that normative argument to its logical conclusion, it leads us to a point where we criticize others for being weak at all.That's not far from saying only the strong deserve respect.

I say this normative argument comes "by implication" because I don't think DiAngelo or most people who use "white fragility" really intend to endorse it. They would deny it and would do so sincerely. I am suggesting, though, that if they rely too much on the "white fragility" concept, or invoke it too often or in inappropriate circumstances, they risk validating the "might makes right" claims I see as implicit in the concept.

We are all fragile. Every person I have met and have gotten to know has proved in some way weak or vulnerable, has sometimes reacted too emotionally or defensively to thoughtful and apt criticisms, no matter how "diplomatic and sensitive." In that sense, "white fragility" is reminder of something we all have in common.

To say that is not to deny that other people are differently situated. It's not to insist that "therefore, racism affects us all equally." There is an important difference between someone using their fragility to silence others and the fact of fragility itself.

Parting thoughts

To anti-racist activists:

I'm in the cheap seats. I'm much more likely to be a target or passive observer of your activism than I am to take the lead myself. It's easy for me to criticize your tactics and your language for framing those tactics. Yours is a hard job.

I offer this blog post to remind you that your tactics, however necessary and however serviceable to a good cause, have their disadvantages. Those disadvantages don't mean you oughtn't use them. But if people react to those tactics, the reaction is not always, or not only, due to bad faith.

To my white friends:

If you've read this far, you know that I agree with the essentials of what DiAngelo and others are saying. I am convinced that race and racism have been central features of American history and that our society and polity work systematically to empower white persons over persons of color. Speaking for myself, I harbor and choose to indulge some racist attitudes, and I often make racist choices, even sometimes when it would be easy for me to choose otherwise.

You might not be on board. You might take other lessons from history. You might believe other concerns, like economic class, are more pressing. You also may be personally less racist than I am. If I took the time to listen to you, I might learn something or we might find we agree on more than we thought.

And I understand the discussions on race are hard. The people who initiate these discussions, either in formal settings like workplace seminars or in less formal settings, sometimes seem preachy or self-righteous. They often present their points of view in a contrived environment in which the "right" answers are more debatable than the (usually unspoken) rules of the discussion permit. It might feel as if some participants are waiting for you to make a mistake they can pounce on.


And frankly, sometimes the best approach is to grin and bear it, to go through the motions. Most people do that in other circumstances. When I worked customer service, I sometimes had to stand with a smile on my face while an angry customer yelled at me. In other jobs, I've had to sit and listen quietly and politely to supervisors speak in the mode of "we talk, you listen." I've had to stand silent and felt the need to laugh along when I'm around people who make fun of evangelical Christians even though I was raised (partly) in that tradition and find much of those jokes to be based on misinformed stereotypes. I believe it's not always wrong to act similarly in discussions on race, to withdraw politely to avoid saying something that will get you in trouble, make waves, or hurt others' feelings.

I do urge you--and I try to remind myself--to consider three points, though.

Point #1:

You and I are responsible for our actions, and our actions have consequences. If I pound the table and yell, I should expect people to feel defensive. If I "go through the motions" by staring stony faced at a speaker with my arms crossed, I should expect people to assume that I'm hostile and I just don't get it.

Point #2:

Remember that others go through the motions, too. In fact, they may be so good at it that you're misled each time. Every time something is said about "good neighborhoods" or "good schools" when what is (probably) meant is "white neighborhoods" or "white schools," someone may feel uncomfortable or may silently object. But that person may very well choose to go along to get along. Maybe their objection isn't that strong. Maybe they even see where the speaker is coming from. But maybe they just don't want to get into it or be "that guy" or "that gal."

In other words, what you're doing is what other people choose to do all the time. That's one of the reasons going through the motions isn't always wrong. But it's also one of the reasons that you and I aren't not particularly special. As the poet said, you also are laid aside.

Point #3:

These discussions on race might sting a little, but they rarely produce lasting harm. When someone points out ways in which what I do is hurtful to them, I'll feel a little defensive. But at the end of the day I'll survive the experience.

The people who initiate and lead these discussions and the persons of color who share their stories are almost always acting in good faith. Even when someone seems to be more on a power trip than anything else, that person is still usually raising concerns others sincerely have. These are real concerns, and they don't become fake just because someone else may be a jerk or because we see the situation differently.

Because you're human, you know what it's like to have something to say and no one listen to you. You know what it's like to feel something deeply and yet have only imperfect words to express that feeling. You're not the only one who has felt that way. If you choose to listen to others, you may find yourself becoming less resentful. You may eventually find others extending the same courtesy and listening to you. You may find it easier to interact with others. You may be happier.

I can't guarantee any of that will happen. Some of it probably won't. And again, I personally believe it's at least sometimes okay to withdraw from these discussions and grin and bear it. But few things come with guarantees and in the meantime it helps to consider taking risks for understanding.

Works consulted

DiAngelo, Robin. 2006. "My Class Didn't Trump My Race: Using Oppression to Face Privilege." Multicultural Perspectives, v. 8, n. 3: 51-56.

DiAngelo, Robin. 2011. "White Fragility." International Journal of Critical Pedagogy, v. 3, n. 3: 55-70