Black Girl From Eugene: We can’t dismantle white supremacy with white supremacy’s tools

by Ayisha Elliott, Black Girl From Eugene

I was ten years old when a teacher told me I shouldn’t wear a particular dress with “my body.” It would bring the wrong kind of attention. Did I want to be thought of as promiscuous? I didn’t know what that word meant, but if a trusted adult was asking, then no, I definitely didn’t want to be that.

That same year, classmates regularly touched my hair without permission. It was new to them, I was told. Where else would they get the chance? That’s just being polite.

And when I wasn’t picked for projects? Well, I wouldn’t want to be in a place where I wasn’t a good fit, as the teacher explained. That makes sense, right?

Except it didn’t. I knew in my body it wasn’t right. I also knew in my body that it might not be worth the fight if I was wrong. So I went along.

We all practice the culture of white supremacy. If you grew up socialized in the Western world, especially the United States, this culture is the foundation of how we operate. The culture itself has no race. However, it only completely serves one group of people: White, Cis gendered, affluent, heterosexual men. The rest of us strive to reach the pinnacle, and we never will, because the system is designed to ensure we do not.

There are practices within this culture that, if you excel at them, grant you more access and resources. Though we all practice this culture, our relationship to it is fundamentally different. Black and Brown-bodied people practice it as a way of survival and safety, whether consciously or unconsciously. White-bodied people practice it to maintain control and power—again, whether conscious or unconscious. It is this relationship we must focus on.

In its purest form, anti-racism work is the deconstruction and undoing of this very culture. It is action, it is activism, it is allyship, but before all of that, you have to recognize your own socialized practice of a culture that naturally creates barriers to each of those goals.

Which means anti-racism isn’t about Black people. Almost at all.

Let me show you what this culture looks like in real life. How it lived in my body as a Black child growing up in predominantly white places.

I was recently talking with a friend about interpersonal evolution and soul correction, you know, regular everyday conversations, when I realized something: My baseline stress level has been heightened since kindergarten. Since the age of five, I had to navigate being “othered” by the very adults meant to protect me.

I never saw them as mean. Quite the opposite. As a very young child, I fell into the narrative that my “othered” experience was necessary, and even beneficial.

It was better that I didn’t get picked for projects—I wouldn’t want to be in a place where I’m not a good fit.

It was okay that people touched my hair without permission—it was new to them, and that’s just being polite.

I shouldn’t wear that dress with my body—I would bring the wrong attention.

These are, comparatively very, very benign scenarios that became my everyday norm. With each assault, I was learning the practices of white supremacy culture, and here to list just a few, are some tenets of that culture:

Perfectionism: I had to be twice as good to be considered half as worthy. Every action was scrutinized, every choice had to be beyond reproach. My value depended on this.

Individualism: When I succeeded, it was because I was “not like other Black people” as my white “friends” would say, thinking it was a compliment. My achievements couldn’t reflect on my community; in their eyes they could only distance me from it.

Sense of Urgency: There was no time to question, no space to push back. Accept the touching, accept the exclusion, accept the policing and quickly, before you cause a scene.

Defensiveness: My body knew something was wrong, but if I spoke up, I risked being labeled difficult, angry, ungrateful. The risk of being wrong felt bigger than the harm of staying silent.

Power Hoarding: Teachers decided who got opportunities and who didn’t. There was no transparency, no accountability, just quiet gatekeeping dressed up as “good fit.” Never even mentioned to my parents.

Right to Comfort: My discomfort, my bodily autonomy, my dignity, my potential was always secondary to their comfort, their curiosity, their sense of order.

I went along with a lot of demeaning behavior, I was sure I had to. Which later, as I worked on healing this wound, proved just as devastating to realize as to endure.

It wasn’t until eighth grade that a teacher recognized I had been dismissed and overlooked. THE MOMENT I WAS SEEN. She gave me my own class to teach during her open period, a dance class, and gave me credit for teaching it, and the other students credit for taking it. The final grade was a presentation to the school at the end of the year.

I was MORE than ready for the challenge and blew it out of the park. She rewarded me in front of the entire class and in front of the entire school with flowers and a plaque.

A piece of me was recognized at that moment.

Unfortunately, the internalized damage was already deep, and the constant barrage never stopped. By then, I had already BEGGED my mom to straighten my hair. My self-sabotage was already manifesting in drinking and early boyfriends. When my parents moved us out of the country, it quite literally saved my trajectory.

The damage I endured was inflicted by people who would say they are not racist. They probably still would. But the level of stress, perfectionism, individualism, and conflict avoidance that weighed on me as I navigated survival within this culture, can hardly be measured.

As we watch the full might of the unabashed fallacy of white supremacy itself take hold of our nation and fight back as best we can, we MUST remember: We cannot fight back with the tools they taught us.

We cannot use:

• Perfectionism to prove we’re worthy of basic dignity
• Individualism to distance ourselves from our communities
• Urgency culture that demands immediate solutions to centuries of harm
• Defensiveness that shuts down difficult conversations
• Power hoarding that replicates hierarchies under new names
• The prioritization of comfort over justice

Instead, we must use the wisdom that those of us have developed while navigating this culture, the wisdom of survival, of community care, of seeing what’s invisible to those who benefit from it. This is a cultural shift toward solidarity. It cannot just be words. Not saviorism. Not charity. Solidarity that recognizes our liberation is bound together. 

This is a cultural shift in how we practice community. Not transactional networking or performative allyship, but authentic relationships built on mutual care and accountability. This is a cultural shift in what power is and how it is used. Not power over, but power with. Not zero-sum competition, but collective flourishing.

This is a cultural shift that values every person over any dollar. That centers the most marginalized and understands that when they are free, we all are.

I hope we are beginning to see that none of us is more valuable than the next. We all not only want but deserve to live freely, safely, and abundantly. That is what anti-racism actually is.

What you learned in 2020 still needs practice and action in 2025—for the wellbeing of all of us.

REMEMBER, what is effective:

Name the culture. When you see perfectionism, urgency, individualism, or any other characteristic of white supremacy culture, in yourself, in your workplace, in your organizing, name it. DO NOT LET it SLIDE. You can’t dismantle what you won’t acknowledge.

Choose different tools. When perfectionism says you need to have all the answers before you act, you don’t – act anyway. When urgency culture demands immediate results, it’s a lie-slow down and build something sustainable, be consistent. When individualism tells you to go it alone, lean into vulnerability and reach for your people.

Practice solidarity. Show up for communities that are not your own. Not as a savior, not as everyone with the answers, but as someone willing to follow their lead, share resources, and take risks for collective liberation. We are ONE.

The culture of white supremacy taught us that some people matter more than others. Anti-racism is the daily practice of proving that lie wrong. in our bodies, in our relationships, in our communities, in our world.

We begin again. Today, Tomorrow, the next…Together.

Copyright © 2025 Ayisha Elliott. All Rights Reserved. Read by Ayisha Elliott for KEPW 97.3 and reprinted with permission from BlackGirlFromEugene.substack.com.

If you’d like to work with Ayisha on dismantling this cultural norm, whether in your organization or small groups, contact her at BlackGirlFromEugene@gmail.com.