As a young white guy from New Hampshire, I moved to Harlem, New York, in 2011 to study conflict resolution. Shortly after my arrival, Trayvon Martin was killed and I knew I needed to join our countrymen in demanding justice. Living in Harlem in the midst of the political heat circling around #BlackLivesMatter and the issue of police brutality, it was impossible for me to ignore my whiteness.
I grew up on Summer Street in Peterborough with a Cambodian family in the neighborhood, so I was aware of what it felt like to be around a lot of people who didn’t particularly look like me, but not to this extent. The experiences I had in a predominantly black college and neighborhood made it impossible not to question my race.
My first step to feeling part of my community was to openly admit that, yes, indeed, I am a white man and that affords me certain privileges. At one point in New York, as I stood on the corner of 127th and St. Nicolas in Harlem, I said to myself, “If I had a box of tools, I would never just use one tool for every job, so why ignore the ‘tool’ of white privilege while I could be making life for my neighbors and classmates easier?”
I whispered to myself: “The world is yours.”
I felt empowered! I realized that my whiteness isn’t something I should be ashamed of, but a tool that I can use to uplift others.
Days passed and I was overcome by the paradigm shift. I was excited to engage in new conversations and focus this new energy. I was so excited that I wanted to see what other white people were experiencing. I wrote my master’s thesis at Columbia University on the experience of white people who moved to and lived in predominantly black communities. Among the participants, I was most excited to interview those who had moved to New York from New Hampshire.
Every participant who I interviewed told me that they saw injustices in their new urban communities. They all told me they felt more aware of their race than ever before. They all told me they felt uncomfortable existing in a different economic class than most of their neighbors. They all told me they felt reluctant to engage with their neighbors, something they didn’t feel reluctant to do while living in places like New Hampshire, Tennessee, or Pennsylvania, among others. I asked them, “Has anyone said or done anything to make you feel this way?”
Most replied with a pensive “No,” which made me feel a great amount of empathy.
How can we come to realize that Black Lives Matter if a majority of our non-black brothers and sisters are carrying this historical and immensely heavy burden of what some people call white guilt.
I don’t have the answer, however, I do know that, like in any interpersonal relationship, we need to communicate honestly and safely. #BlackLivesMatter continues and will continue to be a movement that unveils the collective unconscious that has plagued our minds with racial intolerance of others with whom we don’t share the same complexion.
Francisco Pucciarello is a former Peterborough resident now living in New York City.