Craig Is Afraid. Let’s Be Honest About Why

A poor white construction worker in Anchorage isn’t scared of Black people. He’s scared of what other white people taught him.

This weekend, Kokayi asked us to give someone a voice.

Let’s meet Craig.

Craig posted on Facebook the other night. He’s a poor white man. Grew up in Anchorage, Alaska. The most multicultural city in the nation. His best friend is Black. He gets along with Native people. He isn’t trying to hurt anybody. He goes to work every day in construction. Works hard. Comes home tired.

And Craig is terrified.

Not of violence. Not of poverty. He’s terrified of “anti-racism work.”

Here’s what he said, in his own words: “Oh so you want me to just give up all my belongings to Black people for reparations and act like a whipped dog around people of color because I'm so sad. Fuck off dude. I got to get laid.”

What Craig is actually saying is “I feel like anti-racism means revenge on me. It means limiting my personal opportunities.”

I want to pause right there.

Because if you only listen to the loudest voices online, you might think Craig is a bigot. He’s not. He’s a human being who has real relationships across race. He’s not a monster. He’s not even mean.

So why is he afraid?

Here’s the hard truth that pro-humanity anti-racism has to be brave enough to say:

Craig’s fear did not come from Black people. It did not come from Native people. It came from his socialization with white people.

Let me explain.

Craig grew up poor and white in a diverse city. But the white people around him (family, coworkers, neighbors, the media made for people like him) taught him a quiet, constant lesson. The lesson wasn’t “hate Black people.” The lesson was: “There’s only so much room at the table. If someone else gets a turn, you lose your seat.”

That’s not racism as hatred. That’s racism as scarcity.

And for a poor white man? Scarcity is real. Craig has lost opportunities. He has been passed over. He has watched wealth flow past him to people who looked like him but had better connections, cleaner boots, a safer address.

So when he hears “anti-racism,” he doesn’t hear “justice.” He hears: “They’re coming for what little I have left.”

But here’s what Craig doesn’t see because no one has shown him differently:

Photo by RDNE Stock project

That voice whispering “they’re coming for you” is not the voice of Black neighbors or Native coworkers. That voice is the voice of a white social world that has always used fear to keep poor and working-class white people from making common cause with everyone else.

Think about it.

Craig’s best friend is Black. They work side by side. They watch each other’s backs. That friendship didn’t produce fear. That friendship produced trust.

So where did the fear come from? It came from white-dominated news cycles. It came from white family members who said, “Just wait, they’ll turn on you.” It came from a culture that told Craig his whiteness was his only real asset. If you start talking about race honestly, you’re threatening that asset.

That’s not anti-racism’s fault. That’s white supremacy’s oldest trick.

Divide poor people by race so they never unite by class. Make a white construction worker believe a Black job seeker is his enemy, instead of the boss who underpays them both.

Craig doesn’t want revenge on anyone. He wants to work. He wants to be left alone. He wants a fair shot.

And here’s the part that breaks my heart: anti-racism, done right, is on Craig’s side.

Real anti-racism is not about revenge. It’s not about quotas as punishment. It’s not about making Craig smaller.

Real anti-racism is about noticing that the system that hurt Craig. The one that made him poor, invisible, exhausted is the same system that hurts his Black best friend and his Native coworkers. Just in different ways.

Real anti-racism says: What if there was enough? What if we stopped fighting over scraps? What if we actually looked at who keeps us fighting?

But Craig has never heard that version. Because that version doesn’t sell ads. That version doesn’t go viral. That version requires trust, patience, and the kind of relationship Craig already has with his best friend. Craig hasn’t yet learned to scale to the whole community.

So here’s what I want to say to Craig, if he ever reads this:

I see you. I believe you’re not trying to hurt anyone. I believe you work hard. And I believe your fear is real.

But please, just for a moment, ask yourself: Who told you that justice for others means less for you? Was it a person of color? Or was it a white person, or a white-led institution, or a white-centered news story?

Because the people who actually want revenge? They’re not the ones asking for a seat at the table. They’re the ones who’ve had all the seats for centuries and are now telling you to guard the door.

You don’t have to guard the door. You could pull up a chair. And there would still be enough.

—A European American building a pro-humanity, anti-racist community

(EAGER: European Americans Growing & Engaging in Reconditioning)

P.S. EAGER stands for European Americans Growing and Engaging in Reconditioning. We’re not here to shame. We’re here to deconstruct white supremacy from the inside, fund pro-humanity education, and build a community where people like Craig don’t have to be afraid anymore. Because fear is learned. And what’s learned can be unlearned, together.