Today is January 20th, 2025. Well over 46,000 Palestinians have been killed in genocide, he-who-shall-not-be-named will take office as the 47th president of the colonized United States, and Mark Zuckerberg just said companies need more ‘masculine energy.’ Yet, none of this is new. The forces of evil—white supremacy—want to keep us small, complacent, and numb. But you know what? Millions are fighting back. For many of us, it’s the fight of our lives.

Some might say I am “woke.” This used to feel like a badge of honor. But lately, it’s starting to feel like a way of being that oozes moral superiority and lacks compassion. Wokeness normalizes rage, which has its place. It helps us find others who are critical of the same systems and problematic behaviors. But as soon as we band together around shared antipathy, we lose out on the opportunity for restorative justice, and ultimately healing.

I am mixed Egyptian and white, and I love being biracial. I can navigate differing cultural contexts with relative ease, I enjoy connecting with a wide variety of folx in a multitude of settings, and I take pleasure in deepening my non-Western cultural background. My racial identity has also been the source of an immense amount of pain. One thing is clearer than ever: the social construct of race is violent, messy and dehumanizing. But knowing the wholeness of who I am and how I relate to others grounds me into a level of self-love and authenticity.

Why can’t most white Americans lean in when conversations about race get uncomfortable? I’m not here to answer that question, but what has become increasingly clear to me is the harmful impact this dynamic has on BIPOC, especially from self-proclaimed “white allies.” In my experience, here are the top 5 ways I have witnessed and/or perpetuated, the centering of white comfort.

What are the conditions that create an environment lacking in trust? What would it take to move a group from a place of distrust to constructive dialogue centered on those most impacted by harmful inequities? Is that even possible? If organizations are serious about the work of equity and justice, leaders will need to start with rebuilding trust. It takes significant time and effort to heal wounds and repair harm. Sometimes this will result in non-resolution and an employee will make the choice to exit the organization. And sometimes, it will result in a renewed sense of commitment. So, what does rebuilding trust look like in practice?

Justice and accountability are inextricably linked. When it comes to operationalizing justice, we must always center those who are most impacted by harm done within an organization and be accountable for our missteps. In a dominant culture of avoidance, blame and denial, this can feel like a tall order. How can we enter into restorative dialogue that can heal wounds and bring accountability? How can we embody the values of justice, equity and inclusion in our day-to-day work?

Have you ever had that sinking feeling? You know, the one where you just NEED to get something out into the open? And that thing you need to get out into the open is raw, vulnerable and so uncomfortable? This feeling is pain. Resmaa Menakem tells us there are two kinds of pain when it comes to healing from “white body supremacy”: clean pain and dirty pain. Menakem breaks down the core elements of each kind of pain, and invites us all to embark on the journey of healing.