Hey White Women: Are We Unsafe or Just Uncomfortable?

What follows is a conversation between besties (both white women).

Last week, my bestie, Roe, called me on a Tuesday to ask for advice. We talk nearly every day, but when I pick up her call on this particular afternoon, it’s clear she’s in a bonafide battle with her integrity.

Roe is a Nurse Practitioner who sees patients and manages 20 other providers. It’s a role she shares with two colleagues at her level.

“I’m not sure what to do,” she says after we exchange hellos. “I’m so annoyed with my co-manager.”

“What’s up?” I ask.

“She plays it so safe,” she laments. “One of my friends is an immigration attorney, and they offered to come in and talk to our staff and practitioners about how we can help educate our immigrant patients about their rights should ICE show up at their door. Or in the clinic.”

“Oh, that’s great!”

“Yes, I thought so too. But my co-manager insisted on getting approval from HR, even though we never ask permission from HR for this kind of thing. She’s a play-it-safe, rule-follower type. And this subject is so politically loaded now that of course, HR shut it down. They said it puts us at risk. I’m just so irritated that she’s blocking me from doing this!”

“Is she though?”

“I mean…she went to HR. They said no. Now I’ll just look defiant if I go forward with the plan.”

“Maybe there’s another way,” I say. “They said the lawyer couldn’t come in. But they didn’t say YOU couldn’t educate people.”

“Hmmm, true,” she says.

I can almost hear the wheels turning in her head, fueled by creativity and courage. I throw some more gas on the fire.

“I mean…the research on chronic stress is pretty clear,” I say. “High cortisol and adrenal fatigue aren’t exactly a recipe for good health. So, if there’s something you can DO to reduce stress in your patients, isn’t that part of your job?”

“You know what?” Roe says. “Yes. It is my job! F*ck that white lady bulls*it. Deportation is a public health issue. Stress levels affect people’s health, no one would argue with that. Not to mention, if immigrants are scared to come in for their appointments, they are more likely to suffer from untreated illness or disease. And the clinic loses money.”

We’ve all been in situations like this. Situations where we must choose between doing the safe thing or the right thing.

“Ok, let’s think it through,” I say. “What is the risk for you?”

“I could get fired, but it’s unlikely. My patient satisfaction scores are really high. And I’ve been here for fifteen years. I think I have some pretty solid job security.”

“Then you have power. The question is, will you use it?”

Roe goes silent for a few seconds, then says, “What if I’m wrong about how secure my job is? I don’t know. I keep asking myself…am I unsafe? Would this really put my job at risk? Or am I just uncomfortable?”

“Well…isn’t that the money question!”

In the end, Roe chose courage and discomfort.

She had all the same fears and considerations any of us would. She could have taken the easy (and expected) road and kept her mouth shut. But she didn’t. Why? Because she cared more about doing the right thing than she did about keeping herself comfortable.

As women (in my experience, especially white women), we think playing it safe keeps us safe and makes us successful. But really, it just keeps us small. And let’s face it, white women are taught to follow the rules, be polite, and be deferential to those with more authority. It works wonders for us in school. Small=good. Small bodies. Soft voices. Don’t rock the boat. But at some point, it behooves us to stand up for ourselves and others.

I remember hearing stories from my mom and grandmothers about their experiences at work. The lower pay. The harassment. The underestimation. Never getting the promotions they deserved. In some ways, women in the workplace have come so far since then. In other ways, we haven’t.

Women still have to work harder and be better than their male peers to get a fraction of the pay and recognition. So when we do rise through the ranks, our power can feel fragile. We can start to believe that we don’t really have any power at all. We’re afraid that if we challenge the status quo, they’ll take away everything we worked so hard for.

I’m not going to pretend there will never be some risk associated with speaking up. But this kind of thinking is also our way of letting ourselves off the hook.

What is the point of gaining power if we’re not going to use it?

As white women, we live at a crossroads. We straddle the line of victim and perpetrator. We experience sexism and suffer at the hands of misogyny. But sometimes, we seem to forget that women of color experience sexism and racism — the two systems of oppression intertwining, informing, and reinforcing each other.

White women get to be in proximity to white male power in a way that people of color, especially women of color, do not. We might never truly be allowed into the boys’ club. But we get guest passes. I know, because I’ve been there. My proximity to power often puts me in rooms with people of the highest influence. My voice gets to be heard in places where, all too often, there are no Black or Brown people. What I say — and what I don’t say — matters.

For years, as I cut my teeth as a professional and cashed in my guest passes to these “special rooms,” I played it safe. I laughed at their jokes (even when I didn’t think they were funny, or worse, found them offensive). I turned on just the right amount of charm and flattery. I paced my honesty and picked my battles carefully. I became an expert in hypervigilance to ensure I wasn’t too big for the room and didn’t come on too strong, too soon.

It wasn’t a bad strategy. That is, if my goal was to be liked, rather than respected. If my goal was to be comfortable rather than powerful. If my goal was to uphold the status quo rather than change it.

To be fair, being hypervigilant and playing it safe was necessary earlier in my career. When I was still proving my value and building up my competence and credibility. Not to mention building rock-solid relationships with people in those rooms who could provide me sponsorship and air cover, should I piss off the wrong person. It was valid. Strategic. In fact, I still walk the line, regularly contemplating, “How much can I say without getting kicked out of the room?” I’m no dummy.

The problem is that too many of us forget to cash in our power and cred once we have it. We spend years building a healthy balance of trust, credibility, and power in the ‘bank’ account, but we die (or quit that job) with money in the bank. Abby Womback (World Cup soccer star) talks about wishing she had done more with her voice and power when she was at the top of her game. She regrets playing it so safe (not on the field, but off). She missed out on some opportunities to have a bigger impact.

We all have an opportunity to have a bigger impact, right now. Within our own spheres of influence. Let’s get loud and share ideas about what we are doing–things big and small–with the power we have in the bank.

I believe that as white women, we owe it to ourselves, and our Black and Brown sisters to rock some boats with our power. To shake up the systems that have kept us, and others, on the margins for far too long.

Next time you’re afraid to speak up for what’s right, ask yourself, “Am I unsafe? Or am I just uncomfortable?”

Mitch Shepard is an author, a trusted coach & adviser to some of the world’s top leaders, an Applied Behavioral Scientist, a sought-after speaker, Chief Truth-teller at HUMiN Inc, a recovering Catholic, an ass-kicker of cancer, a proud mama and wife, a DEI die hard, and a passionate world traveler & global citizen.

If you’d like to join my next “storytime” session, called “Be Heard. Have Impact.” learn more here: https://hubs.ly/Q0365w0C0