We all know the story, the roles each of us play, and how it ends, but let me tell it to you one more time. Let’s name the moving parts and see what we can change.

I am sitting in the audience for a moderated discussion about inclusive feminism. Two celebrated scholars face one another at the front of the room, both women: one white feminist theologian and one Black womanist theologian. They are talking about when and how we misunderstand one another in the struggle for liberation. The conversation is an experiment in precisely that.

The white theologian is courteous but dismissive, perhaps accidentally so. She apologizes for never having read the womanist’s work (or even her bio, to be honest), and then talks about her own in great detail.

The womanist doesn’t bat an eye at these slights while responding warmly. She demonstrates that she’s done her research by referencing the feminist’s theories and contributions in relation to her own. She is thorough, considerate, and enthusiastic.

The feminist reads the enthusiasm as an invitation to talk about herself more. The womanist both obliges and redirects the conversation with ease, making space for discourse where before, this would have been a monologue. She is carrying the emotional labor of the conversation like it’s no weight at all — a testament to her muscle memory.

Let me point out that this is heavy work and she is doing it with a smile. It dawns on me, not the first time in my experiences of watching these type of exchanges, that this must make up a sizeable chunk of her academic and creative public life.

It is only when the floor opens for questions that the white feminist theologian has an inkling of the grace she’s been granted. Although she’s a professor at the institution hosting this discussion, the first three questions are exclusively for the womanist theologian, and all of them start with fervent declarations of “Your book has changed my life,” and “I would not have pursued my work without you.”

Suddenly, it’s clear through external confirmation that the womanist is not just any ‘ol scholar. Suddenly, even though this isn’t my field of study at all, I am wondering how neither the feminist theologian nor I — two white women beholding a great mind at work — haven’t read any of the womanist’s books. I’m wondering how much I would have learned from her, how different I would be if I had read her before this. If either of us had.

While my frustration with the white feminist mounted, I couldn’t help but wonder how this could have gone differently. Without a mutually agreed-upon set of values and practices that specifically prioritizes dismantling white supremacy in all its forms, including White Feminism, how can any of us in good faith say that we won’t repeat the patterns we’ve been trained to repeat?

We’ve seen this story play out before. With many of us holding starring roles like “Well-Meaning Whiteness”. We just don’t realize how much we’re taking, or assuming, or harming, until it’s too late. And we gave ourselves little to go on except the conviction that we wanted to be better.

While it is an admirable start, fighting systemic oppression requires more than showing up for a well-titled conversation. We must name what we are willing to do differently, make a plan for it, and then do the work in the moment. It has to happen on both the micro and macro levels. We have to be engaged with sincere admiration and commitment with our partners across privilege—especially racial privilege—to make the practice stick.

For the purposes of Restorative Writers, I am blessed to be met in this work by a co-facilitator whose work and vision I believe in with a steadfast conviction. Princess McDowell is not just my friend; she is a bright thinker, a talented writer, and a gentle source of deep support for every person she works with in community. In pursuit of having our story end differently, we have constructed a set of vows to one another that will guide us in building Restorative Writers into a space for listening, learning, and liberation.

You can read our commitments here. If they feel like a useful template for building your own creative relationships across privilege, we encourage you to use them. And if you’re a woman-identified writer, we encourage you to join us for our first round of Restorative Writers by clicking the registration link below.