Navigating Racial Stress:
A Journey Through History, Harm, and Healing
Let’s Start with the Basics: What Is Racial Stress?
Racial stress is like carrying an invisible backpack filled with rocks. For Black, Indigenous, and People of Color, it’s the daily weight of microaggressions, systemic exclusion, and the fear of violence. For European American folk like me, it’s the gnawing guilt of realizing how our actions—or silence—uphold systems that harm others. I used to think racism was just “out there” in the world, but racial stress taught me it’s also in my body: the clenched jaw when someone says something racist at dinner, the pit in my stomach when I’m called out for a mistake.
Let me tell you—this stuff is exhausting.
A Quick Dive into History (Because Context Matters)
Racial stress isn’t new. It’s woven into the fabric of this country. Think about slavery, Indigenous genocide, Jim Crow—these weren’t just events. They were systems designed to traumatize marginalized communities and condition white people to see dominance as normal. Science even shows how trauma from racism can get passed down in our bodies through epigenetics. Yes, your DNA can carry memories of your ancestors’ pain. For Black and Indigenous folks, that means generations of survival under oppression literally shaped how their bodies respond to stress today. I first learned about this through Kokayi Nosakhere's book When and Where We Feel Safe.
And for European Americans? We inherited the lie that we’re “superior,” which means unlearning racism isn’t just about reading books—it’s about rewiring our nervous systems.
My Awkward Phase: Call-Out Culture and Why It Backfired (it's a work in progress)
When I first started my anti-racism journey, I thought being a “good ally” was the goal and that meant attacking every racist comment I heard. I’d publicly shame people online, call relatives out at Thanksgiving, and label anyone who disagreed as “part of the problem.” Spoiler: It didn’t work.
One time, I went in on acquaintances who made a tone-deaf joke or a racial charged comment. I posted a rant on social media, calling them a “bigot.” Instead of reflecting, they dug in. Worse, and it was Black women soothing their hurt feelings. I realized I’d weaponized “accountability” to perform, not to actually help. Call-out culture felt powerful, but it was just another form of force—the same tool white supremacy uses to silence dissent.
The Messy Truth About White-on-White Racial Stress
Here’s the kicker: Most of my racial stress came from *other European Americans*. Not from being called racist, but from being called in—gently challenged to do better. Let’s be real: It stings. When another white person says, “Hey, that comment was harmful,” my brain screams, But I’m one of the good ones!
That defensiveness? It’s baked into whiteness. White solidarity teaches us to prioritize comfort over justice. Breaking that habit feels like quitting an addiction. I’ve cried, rage-texted friends, and even ghosted accountability groups. But here’s what I’ve learned: The stress of being called out is nothing compared to the harm caused by staying silent.
The Moment That Shattered Me (And Why I’m Grateful)
Many years ago, I learned: My whiteness is a weapon. If I call the police during a heated argument, a Black person could die. The reverse isn’t true. That realization broke me. I sobbed for days, cycling through anger, shame, grief, and helplessness. I didn’t want to exist in a system built on genocide. But my healing began when I stopped centering my guilt and started focusing on action.
How I Manage Racial Stress Now (No Perfection Required)
Gardening Therapy: My plants don’t care about my whiteness. Digging in the dirt reminds me I’m part of a bigger ecosystem.
Breathe, Don’t Brawl: When called in or in situations when someone else needs called in, I pause. A deep breath stops me from spiraling into defensiveness or anger.
Lean on Community: My friends and I have a pact: “Call me out, then take me out for coffee.” Accountability without abandonment.
Embrace “Both/And”: I can mess up *and* keep trying. Growth isn’t linear.
Grieve: Liberation work is grief work. Allow yourself time to grieve.
Final Thoughts: This Isn’t About Guilt—It’s About Freedom
Racial stress won’t disappear overnight. But every time we choose curiosity over shame, repair over punishment, and connection over isolation, we loosen white supremacy’s grip. Healing isn’t a solo project—it’s a collective remix of how we relate to each other. So let’s keep stumbling forward. The goal isn’t to be “good.” It’s to be free.
References
American Psychological Association. Stress & Health Disparities: Contexts, Mechanisms, and Interventions Among Diverse Communities. 2021.
Brown, Adrienne Maree. Emergent Strategy: Shaping Change, Changing Worlds. AK Press, 2017.
DiAngelo, Robin. White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism. Beacon Press, 2018.
Ignatiev, Noel. How the Irish Became White. Routledge, 1995.
Kabat-Zinn, Jon. Full Catastrophe Living: Using the Wisdom of Your Body and Mind to Face Stress, Pain, and Illness. Bantam, 2013.
Menakem, Resmaa. My Grandmother’s Hands: Racialized Trauma and the Pathway to Mending Our Hearts and Bodies. Central Recovery Press, 2017.
Ng, Evelyn, and Ware, Sylvia M. Calling In: A Less Disposable Way of Holding Each Other Accountable. Black Girl Dangerous, 2020.
Nosakhere, Kokayi. When and Where We Feel Safe.
Richeson, Jennifer A., and Trawalter, Sophie. The Threat of Appearing Prejudiced and Race-Based Attentional Biases. Psychological Science, 2008.
Roediger, David R. The Wages of Whiteness: Race and the Making of the American Working Class. Verso, 1991.
Ross, Loretta. Calling In the Calling Out Culture. Simon & Schuster, 2021.
Smith, William A. Racial Battle Fatigue: Insights from the Front Lines of Social Justice Advocacy. 2004.
SURJ. White Noise: A SURJ Guide to Fighting Racism in the Workplace. 2020.
Tatum, Beverly Daniel. Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria? And Other Conversations About Race. Basic Books, 1997.
Tervalon, Melanie, and Murray-García, Jann. Cultural Humility Versus Cultural Competence: A Critical Distinction in Defining Physician Training Outcomes in Multicultural Education. 1998.
Thayer, Zaneta M., and Kuzawa, Christopher W. Biological Memories of Past Environments: Epigenetic Pathways to Health Disparities. 2011.
Yehuda, Rachel, et al. Holocaust Exposure Induced Intergenerational Effects on FKBP5 Methylation. 2015.
P.S. If you take one thing from this, let it be this: “You’re allowed to be messy. Just keep showing up.” - Desireé B Stephens
Who wrote this?
Me