Can You Be a ‘Good Person’ and Still Be Racist? Understanding Unconscious Bias
Marrying my husband brought me into a whole new orbit. As a girl from Dallas, I considered myself a small-town girl at heart, even though I technically lived in a suburb of the larger city. Coppell was one of those close-knit places with only one high school. It was a classic small town, with red-brick buildings, carefully planted trees, and a sense of togetherness. Football games on Friday nights were a community event—whether you were a cheerleader, in the band, or on the field, everyone was involved. It felt like home, almost like a scene from a Hallmark movie.
When I first visited my husband’s hometown of Freeman, Missouri, I was struck by how truly small a town could be. The sign read “Population 582,” and I remember feeling a bit of disbelief that towns this small still existed so close to a major city like Kansas City. At first, I hesitated to go. My husband originally invited me to his great-grandfather’s 100th birthday celebration back in 2006, and I promptly declined. It just goes to show how much he underestimated the situation. I mean, here was a man who’d probably never even met a Black person, and I wasn’t about to be the reason he had a heart attack on his big day—imagine his youngest grandson bringing home a Black girl like some scene straight out of Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner.
But eventually, I decided to make the trip. My in-laws had just built a new house, and the timing was right—it was just before the holidays, and a visit felt like a good break from the intensity of my final year at the University of Missouri.
What I found was a slice of America that felt like stepping back in time. My father-in-law, who’s was an auctioneer at the time, once ran one of the largest cookie jar auctions around. Yes, cookie jars—back in the ’90s, when people used to actually collect things like that. There’s a sweet, enduring charm about this kind of small-town life. I’ll never forget when my dad first visited their main street. He looked around and said, “So this is the Main Street politicians are always talking about when they go on about ‘heartland values.’” In Freeman, there’s only one school, serving kids from kindergarten through 12th grade, my husband graduated in a class of 29, life revolved around the school in such a genuine way.
Even though the town has shrunk over the years, the auction house was still lively, full of people who come together for these events. When my father-in-law would host an auction, the place would fill up, and if there was a concession stand, you could count on some of the best pies you’ve ever tasted. There’s an undeniable warmth, and people were friendly, though, as often happens in my life, I was the only Black person in the room.
I’d love to say that everyone my husband knew was thrilled we were getting married, but that wouldn’t be true. One couple, in particular, was vocal about their shock that my in-laws would “allow” their son to marry someone outside of their race. It wasn’t all that painful for me— One would say, I had the advantage of growing up in predominantly white spaces, so I was already aware of the complexities of interracial marriage in America. People like to think we’ve evolved, but the truth is, our history of prejudice is woven deep into the fabric of our culture.
I understood, though. People often judge what they don’t know, and fear comes from misunderstanding. When your only exposure to other communities is shaped by media portrayals, it’s easy to let that become your reality.
The Power of Perception: Why It’s Hard to See Ourselves as Biased
For many, being called “racist” conjures images of open hostility, bigotry, and violence. No one wants to see themselves that way. Most people think, “I’m a good person, I’m kind, I don’t hate anyone,” and assume that this absolves them of the label. But the reality is, racism is not always overt, and it doesn’t require intentional hatred. Racism is a set of learned behaviors, cultural messages, and stereotypes that are deeply ingrained in us over time.
Growing up in a majority-white spaces, these ideas can seep into us like secondhand smoke. Many white people have been raised in environments where the norms, values, and perspectives presented were predominantly white. In that world, it’s easy to see whiteness as the default, as “normal.” It’s a silent bias that becomes so ingrained, it’s like the wallpaper of everyday life — always there but rarely noticed.
And because we’re taught that “racist” means a very specific, extreme kind of behavior, there’s a disconnect. Being called out on bias feels like a personal attack, and the instinct is to defend ourselves. But the thing is, acknowledging bias doesn’t mean you’re a bad person; it means you’re a product of a society that still has a lot of growing up to do.
As you read this, you might feel a bit triggered—especially if you're white and know me personally. You might be wondering, Does she think I’m racist? Have I done something to offend her? It's a natural reaction, as defensiveness is often the first response when we start to recognize our own unconscious biases.
But What About Loving Black People?
One of the most common defenses against accusations of racism is, “I can’t be racist; I love Black people!” or “I have Black grandchildren, friends, a partner.” But here’s the truth: love and racism can coexist. You can have deep love for individuals and still hold biases against the group they belong to.
Imagine someone who genuinely loves their friend but still believes in stereotypes about their friend’s background. They may not even realize it, but if they unconsciously hold that stereotype, it influences how they treat their friend. Growing up, I can’t even tell you how many times I was the butt of the joke. People would call me names like “Jiggaboo” or ask, “So, having fried chicken tonight?”—as if that was somehow supposed to be funny. And these weren’t strangers saying these things. These were friends, classmates, people who said they loved me. Yet they couldn’t seem to resist falling back on stereotypes they’d picked up from TV, movies, or family conversations. Somehow, caring about me didn’t stop them from reducing me to the caricature they thought they knew.
One memory that’s always stuck with me happened when I was dating this guy I really liked. He seemed sweet, kind, and he appreciated who I was—or so I thought. Then one day, he told me something that left me speechless: when his parents found out I was Black, their first question was whether I was “bossy.” They thought it was just a “curiosity,” he said, and brushed it off. But he admitted it struck him as odd, since they’d never asked that about anyone else he’d dated. It was like, suddenly, I wasn’t just me. I was Black, which, in their minds, meant I might have this whole other personality that required a warning label.
Moments like those drive home the fact that, even when people think they’re progressive, they still might carry around these preconceived ideas without even realizing it. They might genuinely care about you, but they’ll still reach for stereotypes to make sense of who you are. It’s not always malicious; it’s often just what they grew up hearing, absorbing, and never questioning. But knowing that doesn’t make it right or give grounds for me to tolerate it. It’s a reminder that, to some people, no matter how well they know you, you’re still not just “Jessica” to them…you’re “Black Jessica” with an invisible set of labels that they can’t seem to let go of.
Implicit bias can be subtle, often surfacing in ways we might not notice at first. For instance, a grandparent who adores their Black grandchild might still feel uncomfortable when seeing a Black stranger walking toward them on the street. They may subconsciously separate their grandchild as “different” or “an exception” while holding negative assumptions about Black people as a group. This unintentional distinction reveals an implicit bias, where familiarity breeds comfort, but unfamiliarity reactivates stereotypes.
Similarly, a manager could be enthusiastic about hiring a Black candidate with standout qualifications but might doubt the fit of a lesser-known Black applicant, unconsciously tying worth to credentials in ways they might not with others. Implicit bias here shows up as different levels of scrutiny based on race and perceived familiarity with certain achievements.
A teacher might also feel warmly toward their Black students but be surprised when one excels academically, hinting at a subconscious assumption that academic success is unexpected. These small, often unnoticed reactions reveal how implicit bias can linger, even in well-intentioned spaces, shaping reactions and expectations in ways that affect how we interact with those we don’t know as well. Recognizing these moments is a step toward fostering genuine understanding and dismantling unconscious bias.
Another example of this would be people who believe they “don’t see color” or that “love conquers all.” These phrases are often well-meaning, but they actually ignore the experiences that Black people go through daily. By refusing to acknowledge race, you’re also refusing to see the real and specific challenges that Black and people of color face. In many cases, it’s a way to avoid engaging with the discomfort of our own biases.
When Familiar Faces Reveal Unfamiliar Sides: Recognizing Bias in Loved Ones
Discovering that a family member holds subtle, often unintentional, racist beliefs can be a deeply unsettling experience. For many, this realization can come as a shock, especially if the person in question is someone who has been a source of love, support, or guidance. The discovery might happen in small moments: an offhand comment that dismisses certain people as “different,” a joke that leans on harmful stereotypes, or a generalization about a group that feels out of place. These subtle expressions may not come with outright malice, which makes it even more challenging to process and reconcile. It's a hard truth to face, especially when it's someone you’ve admired or believed to be fair-minded.
Coming to terms with it requires patience and a willingness to see beyond your previous understanding of that person. It may even involve difficult conversations, emotional processing, and, sometimes, disappointment. Recognizing these biases, however painful, can ultimately lead to growth — for you and, hopefully, for them. By acknowledging these nuances within our closest relationships, we can begin to understand how ingrained biases often are, how they manifest in ways we might overlook, and how changing them often requires compassion, persistence, and open dialogue.
Once you’ve acknowledged subtle racism in a loved one, the next steps can feel daunting. You may wonder: Should you address it directly? Let it slide to “keep the peace”? Educating someone close to you can be tricky because it involves confronting biases that might have been ingrained over decades. It’s important to approach the conversation with empathy while also remaining clear about your values. Begin by setting a boundary, expressing how certain language or assumptions make you uncomfortable and why. For example, say something like, “I know you didn’t mean harm, but comments like that reinforce stereotypes that hurt people.”
Consider framing it as a learning opportunity, encouraging them to understand how subtle (racism) biases can impact others. It might be uncomfortable, and the response may vary—from willingness to change, to defensiveness. Either way, remember that you’ve planted a seed. Change is often slow and requires patience, but taking this step is crucial for creating a more inclusive environment within your family.
Understanding Racism as a System, Not Just Individual Acts
One of the biggest misconceptions about racism is that it’s always personal and intentional. But racism, especially in today’s world, is less about individuals acting with explicit malice and more about a system that prioritizes white experiences, values, and perspectives over others. In other words, racism isn’t just someone saying something awful or discriminatory. It’s also the subtle ways that systems are set up to benefit white people, even if unintentionally. It’s in who gets the job, who gets the loan, and who is presumed innocent or dangerous.
Several Black families have reported significantly lower home appraisals when their homes visibly reflect Black ownership. For example, Joe Clark in Seattle experienced a substantial difference in home appraisal values. His home was first valued at around $670,000, but after removing family photos and African art and having a white friend pose as the homeowner, the value surged to $929,000, a nearly $259,000 increase. This stark disparity left Clark frustrated, as he had invested heavily in home renovations, only to feel that racial bias may have undervalued his property during the initial appraisal.
Similarly, in Maryland, professors Dr. Nathan Connolly and Dr. Shani Mott faced a similar situation. Initially, their Baltimore home was appraised at $472,000, close to its purchase price despite substantial renovations. They later removed indicators of Black family ownership and enlisted a white colleague for the second appraisal, which came back at $750,000. Their experience has sparked renewed discussions on racial bias in the appraisal industry, with experts noting that homes in Black communities are often valued lower than those in predominantly white areas, potentially costing families thousands in equity.
These cases highlight broader patterns identified by studies, which show that homes in Black neighborhoods are undervalued on average by about $48,000 compared to homes in similar white neighborhoods, leading to long-term economic impacts on Black families' generational wealth.
The hardest part for many white people is realizing that they benefit from these systems even if they didn’t personally create them or even notice them before. This benefit, or privilege, isn’t necessarily something you’ve asked for, but it’s there nonetheless. Recognizing this privilege can be uncomfortable, especially if you’ve been raised to see the world as a level playing field. But it’s a critical step in understanding why, even as someone who loves people of color, you still may have biases that impact them.
Racist Roots in Common Sayings: What We Didn’t Know
There are quite a few phrases that are still widely used in American English today that have roots in racist, xenophobic, or discriminatory history. Often, the origins of these expressions have been forgotten over time, but their meanings and connotations still carry those biased undertones. Here are some examples:
"Peanut Gallery"
Originally, the “peanut gallery” referred to the cheap seats in theaters, where Black patrons were often segregated. Over time, the phrase came to mean a place of heckling or unwelcome commentary, reinforcing the idea of lower-class or less-respected voices."No Can Do"
This phrase is a simplification of a phrase from Chinese Pidgin English, a form of broken English that reflected the racism and dismissive attitudes toward Chinese immigrants in the 19th and early 20th centuries. The phrase is now used without thinking, but it was once a way of mocking Chinese speakers."Sold Down the River"
This phrase means being betrayed or misled. It originates from the time of slavery when enslaved people were literally sold down the Mississippi River to harsher conditions in the Deep South. This betrayal was devastating, and the phrase reflects the cruelty of that time."Uppity"
Commonly used to describe someone seen as behaving above their “place,” “uppity” was frequently used in a derogatory way toward Black individuals who asserted their rights or acted with self-respect, challenging racist hierarchies."Long Time, No See"
Similar to “no can do,” this phrase originated from mocking how Native American or Chinese speakers of English communicated. The phrase reinforces stereotypes of Native Americans speaking in broken English."Gyp" or "Gypped"
This term, used to describe being cheated, stems from the word “gypsy” and perpetuates negative stereotypes about the Romani people, who were often marginalized and unjustly viewed as thieves or tricksters."Master Bedroom"
This phrase has associations with the master-slave dynamic on plantations, where the “master” controlled the household. While the connection is debated, many real estate professionals have moved toward using "primary bedroom" due to its implications."Grandfathered In"
This term, now used to mean a person or thing that’s exempt from a new rule, originated in the post-Reconstruction South. After the Civil War, "grandfather clauses" were created to prevent Black people from voting by only allowing people to vote if their grandfathers had voted, effectively keeping African Americans from exercising their rights."Paddy Wagon"
“Paddy wagon” refers to police vans, and the term "paddy" was a derogatory term for Irish people, implying that many people in police custody were Irish immigrants. This phrase reflects discrimination against Irish Americans, who were often stereotyped as criminals."Call a Spade a Spade"
Although this phrase originates in Ancient Greece with no racial connotation, over time, the word "spade" became a slur against Black people in the U.S. Given this shift, the phrase is now seen as problematic due to its association with racial slurs.
These examples show how seemingly innocent expressions often carry echoes of discrimination from the past. Many people use these terms without any ill intent, but understanding their origins can help in making language choices that don’t inadvertently perpetuate harmful stereotypes.
So, What’s the Way Forward?
Acknowledging bias is a humbling experience, and it’s not easy. But it is one of the most important things anyone can do to move toward genuine allyship and understanding. Even as a Black woman, I have to admit my own biases and confront the stereotypes I was raised with. There are assumptions I’ve had to unlearn, even though they don’t stem from systems that benefit me personally. Growing up in a predominantly white community set the tone for some of those biases and, in some ways, reinforced stereotypes that fueled certain social dynamics and expriences I faced. It's a humbling process to realize how much of this mindset comes from cultural conditioning, and even harder to identify and dismantle it in myself. Recognizing this has been an essential step in my own journey toward understanding and challenging ingrained prejudices.
Here’s where to start:
Listen to Stories, Even When They’re Hard to Hear
Listening to the lived experiences of Black people is an essential part of understanding the depth and impact of racism. Rather than dismissing these stories with “I’ve never seen that” or “That can’t be true,” listen with an open mind and heart. The experiences shared might feel uncomfortable because they challenge your assumptions or experiences. But remember, listening without defensiveness isn’t about challenging or comparing. It’s about validation and acceptance. Trust their accounts and let go of the need to defend your own perspective, even if it contradicts theirs. Their lives, history, and struggles have occurred within a context of systemic bias that may be hard to see from outside but is very real.
Reflect on Your Own Behaviors and Beliefs
We’re all shaped by our experiences and communities, but this can mean we’re unconsciously carrying biases or assumptions. Take an honest inventory of your beliefs. Ask yourself hard questions like: Why do I feel uncomfortable in certain groups? Why do I assume my viewpoint is the “correct” one? Where might I hold stereotypes that need to be challenged? Being honest about your inner thoughts and reactions is the first step toward transforming them. Self-reflection isn’t about blame or guilt—it’s about recognizing areas where change can happen and giving yourself a chance to grow.
Educate Yourself on Systemic Racism
Racism isn’t just about individual prejudices; it’s deeply embedded in structures that have long supported racial inequality. Systemic racism includes things like redlining, where Black neighborhoods were historically denied home loans; inequities in criminal justice, where sentencing disproportionately impacts Black people; and education disparities that affect opportunities. Understanding the layers of racism helps to clarify that this isn’t simply a matter of “good” or “bad” individuals—it’s about systems that have been built to favor certain groups over others. Educating yourself doesn’t just reveal what needs to change in society; it shifts the focus from blaming individuals to tackling the broader problems.
Accept That Being “Good” Doesn’t Mean Being Perfect
Being anti-racist isn’t about achieving perfection—it’s about awareness, empathy, and growth. You can be a good, well-meaning person and still hold biases. The goal isn’t to deny this but to work through it. When you love people, especially those who are different from you, there will be areas of ignorance you might not even notice. Instead of feeling guilty or defeated when you uncover them, use that awareness to improve. It’s a process that requires compassion for yourself and others, and the aim is progress, not perfection.
Actively Work Against Bias
Challenging racial bias in yourself and others is essential to dismantling systemic issues. Start with your own assumptions: if you hear a stereotype, question it. Speak out when friends or family make offhand remarks that reinforce prejudice. This may feel uncomfortable at first, but silence only reinforces harmful patterns. Think of it as a form of integrity—standing up for what’s right, even when it’s difficult. Small actions, like questioning a comment or choosing inclusive language, build up over time, creating a positive impact.
Expose Yourself to Diverse Groups and Perspectives
To break down biases, intentionally broaden your social circles and activities to include diverse groups. Join organizations, attend events, or volunteer in spaces where you’re not in the majority, and do so with genuine curiosity and a desire to learn—not as a “savior.” These environments can expand your understanding and perspective, challenging assumptions and broadening empathy. Real growth happens when you listen, share, and connect with people from different backgrounds. This isn’t about being “the one who helps” or being a “savior” but about building authentic relationships that deepen your understanding of the world and foster mutual respect.
The work of confronting personal and systemic bias isn’t an attack on white identity—it’s an invitation to join in creating a better world for everyone. We all have things we need to unlearn, to reframe, to understand better. And the more we can do that together, with openness and empathy, the more we’re able to build the world we’d all want to live in — one where love doesn’t just mean good intentions but real, meaningful equity.
