A couple of lines of thought have converged for me over the past few days, in two particular comment threads on the Lace on Race Facebook page and in discussion with white friends who are doing anti-racism work. The word of the day today is “uncomfortable.”

Since Lace has proposed the direct action she would like to take on what happened with the Christian Left over the past weekend, the two comments I’m thinking of discussing the terms of that action have started off with white women saying, in essence, “I’m uncomfortable.”

Before I go farther, I want to stipulate that I don’t mean to discount that, generally speaking, our comfort levels may be a valid indicator of our safety in a given situation. I absolutely believe that, in numerous arenas of life, discomfort is our psyche’s warning system, telling us we need to GET OUT, even before we’ve consciously developed a clear understanding of where danger may lie. So let’s take it as given that the discomfort I’m speaking to is, very specifically, the discomfort white people may encounter while doing anti-racist work.

In my book club last night, a friend said that we need to teach kids how to have uncomfortable conversations. To teach, we have to know. And it’s something I’ve heard a lot, that we need to learn how to and be willing to have uncomfortable conversations. I think, though… that a lot of us subconsciously frame this as, I need to be willing to make other people uncomfortable, okay, I can do that! And that is definitely part of it. We’ve discussed here many times how it might be the thought of making others uncomfortable that holds us back. That we are uncomfortable at the thought of others’ discomfort! But I think fewer of us *authentically* interrogate our own tolerance for discomfort, and not discomfort with others, discomfort with ourselves.

I think we still want our own discomfort accommodated, and consider it a reasonable ask (or tell!). I think that, as white people, comfort is often our goal or even our default. Because a sense of discomfort may be fairly transitory, temporary, and because I can so easily conflate discomfort with lack of safety, I can easily fall into the trap of not digging into my discomfort for clearer understanding, but assume discomfort means danger and OOP, GOTTA BAIL!

In addressing the form of our direct action regarding the Christian Left, Lace proposed that a message would be written specifying the harm the members and leaders of that group had caused, by exploiting the words of John Lewis, by dismissing and blocking one of their followers, Lace, when she raised concerns over their exploitation and profiteering, and their violence in deleting all posts involved in that discussion. This message would then be posted on the Facebook walls of those who agreed to participate, with personalizations made, the groups involved tagged, and the visibility set to “Public”.

One walker asked whether the language of the letter might be too Christian for her, a non-Christian, to feel comfortable signing. She suggested even writing a second message. In short, without reading the message, and with no past indicators within the Lace on Race site that she would be required to represent herself as a Christian in this action, she felt an immediate clench around religion, and requested accommodation.

Another walker stated that she was uncomfortable that she would be required to set the post as visible to the public. She had a clench around Lace’s specific directive to be open about this anti-racist action. While she claimed to “live out loud” in “real life,” she worried about professional and social difficulties she might encounter by setting things to public on her Facebook page in general.

The accommodations requested aren’t what I want to talk about here, though. What I want to address is the way we white people feel discomfort and can *immediately* ask to have that discomfort accommodated, considering ourselves perfectly reasonable in doing so, when… are we? Are we really? We just assume our discomfort is a fully legitimate reason for us to throw a flag, push things back, seek accommodation, and, again, I am speaking very specifically of white people, of myself, working to become anti-racist.

If something about this work makes me uncomfortable, maybe I need to stop and ask myself…

How… HOW does that look to Black people and people of color around me when I want anti-racist work to accommodate me? ME… a white woman? How does my discomfort, my subliminally perceived lack of safety, stack up against the ACTUAL danger Black people and people of color face daily?

About this discomfort. Can I get more specific than, “I’m uncomfortable”? Can I name what I’m afraid of? When I name it… does it still have as much weight? Do I still think I need to be accommodated?

And, ultimately, how much accommodation do I believe I have a right to, as a white woman who professes to want to stand against racism? What authority do I have to say how the work should best be done? Why *should* I expect to stay comfortable while I work?

And most of all, what is more important to me than reducing and mitigating the harm done to Black and brown people by white people… by white people like me… by ME?

Do I *NEED* accommodation, or do I actually… need to do the accommodating?