Thanks to Jon Sisk, vice president and senior executive acquisitions editor at Rowman & Littlefield, for sharing with me his powerful response when he first read Dear White America when it appeared at the New York Times’ column, The Stone. I was honored by his response, one that was honest and heartfelt. His response came at a time when it was greatly needed. In the midst of the storm and crucible of such a magnitude of white racist responses, Jon’s message functioned as a place of hope. I thank you for that, Jon. I also thank you for your encouragement that I rethink Dear White America in the form of a book. This was truly the impetus for bringing this book to fruition. I would also like to thank Kate Powers, assistant editor at Rowman & Littlefield, for all of her help with logistics, and her insight and professionalism. To Crystal Clifton, my copy-editor, thanks so very much for your insights, keen eyes, and thoroughness. The care with which you’ve worked on this book is much appreciated. And Elaine McGarraugh, senior production editor at Rowman & Littlefield, thanks for your wonderful assistance, enthusiasm for the book, and for making sure that I kept to the schedule.
A special thanks to philosopher Cornel West for writing the Foreword to this book. Cornel, I know that you are out there fighting the good fight, but you took the time to come through for your dear brother. Your voice, one grounded within a long and sustained prophetic tradition, is truly needed as America and the world spiral down into greater catastrophe and ruin. Yet your indefatigable hope convinces me to hold on and never allow despair to have the last word.
Thanks to philosopher Simon Critchley and editor Peter Catapano at the New York Times, cofounders of The Stone, who believe in the power of public philosophical discourse and dialogue. My work with Simon and Peter is a genuine honor. Peter’s editorial work is brilliant. And his capacity for mutual understanding is greatly appreciated. So, to Simon and Peter, thanks for seeing the value in publishing the initial version of Dear White America. From the overwhelming and torrential response that it received, I have no doubt that we did something right, something momentous. Thanks for creating such a welcoming space to engage in public philosophy, especially at a time when the need for informed, critical, and honest dialogue about a range of deep political, ethical, global, and existential issues is under emboldened malicious and irresponsible attack from within “our” very nation.
Emma Clements, an editor par excellence, is to be thanked for her time, her expertise, and her meticulous editorial skills. She is one of the best editors with whom I’ve had the pleasure of working. Emma, thanks for what you do, and the powerful creative ingenuity that you possess.
I also thank Barbara Applebaum, Taine Duncan, Karen Teel, Maureen O’Connell, and Susan Hadley for all of their critical feedback and willingness to read over various chapters. Barbara, your friendship and profound pedagogical insights within the areas of critical whiteness studies and complicity pedagogy are deeply appreciated. Taine, your philosophical probing is deeply engaging and was instrumental in shaping important aspects of this book. Thanks for making time for my work, for grappling with my voice, for improving my insights. Karen, your thoroughness was amazing and helped to bring me to the finish line. Thank you for taking the time in giving so much of yourself. Maureen, thanks for making time to read through parts of this text. You immediately said yes when asked. For that I’m thankful. Susan, you read through the entire text, literally sitting with me going over, pouring over, the text in detail. You provided essential advice while, of course, respecting my philosophical voice, my style of engaging a concept, a word, a sentence. That can be a task. Thanks for honing my voice, especially when I metaphorically soared too close to the sun. What I needed was the smell of the earth as Adrienne Rich would demand. Thanks for keeping me grounded, honest, and true to my own philosophical aims within this text. Cassie Hill, a young philosopher on the rise, thanks for reading through the manuscript during a tight schedule. You are destined to be a philosopher who distinguishes herself.
A special thanks to bell hooks and the bell hooks Institute at Berea College for inviting me to engage in a wide-ranging conversation with an engaging audience of people concerned with eradicating injustice. I thank bell for her ceaseless effort to speak candidly when it comes to marking pain, suffering, and joy in this world. For those who may not know, bell’s wit, humor, and show of hospitality are just amazing. Her friendship is warm and loving. Within this context, it was such an honor to participate in an engaged discussion about masculinity and other issues of social and philosophical importance with bell and the late Harry Brod at St. Norbert College in 2017. My condolences to Harry’s life partner, Karen Mitchell. One of my favorite colleagues, Karlyn Crowley, who is an excellent scholar and director of the Cassandra Voss Center at St. Norbert College, is to be thanked for creating a space for the engaged discussion to take place. I would also like to thank Bettina Love for being there within that space and for her important work that critically engages the pedagogy of hip-hop.
Thanks to scholar Susannah Heschel for inviting me to give a public talk and engage with her students at Dartmouth College in late summer of 2017. I wrote an article titled “Is Your God Dead?” for the New York Times’ column, The Stone, through the prism of the extraordinary work of Susannah’s father, Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel. The objective of the article was to bring attention to the lack of religious and theological moral leadership in our contemporary moment. Susannah read the article and the rest was history. She is an engaging scholar and is unafraid to critique the multitudes of injustice manifest throughout our world. I am honored that we are friends.
Thanks to my colleagues John J. Stuhr and John Lysaker at Emory University. Stuhr, who was chair upon my arrival at Emory, is to be acknowledged for sharing a bit of the heat after the publication of Dear White America. And by this, I mean that he too, unfortunately, received some of the white supremacist nastiness sent my way. He, too, according to white supremacist logic, was to “blame,” needed to be called vicious names, for playing a role in me being hired. Stuhr, thanks for standing tall and for your courage. Thanks for your leadership, collegiality, and friendship. Lysaker, now chair, also got to take part in reading some of the white supremacist hatred sent my way. Thanks for your voice in a time of need—a sane and brave voice. To the both of you, thanks for being allies during an unprecedented and difficult moment in my career as a philosopher, a public intellectual. It is during such times that friendships are needed.
Thanks to Emory University for being a prestigious institution that values the freedom of its scholars to speak with courage and daring.
I thank friend and colleague Anne Leighton for creating an indispensable petition on my behalf. Anne is also to be thanked for her fierce antiracist praxis. Anne has the kind of political integrity that is to be respected and envied. It has never been about the spotlight. I fear that she will balk at my thanking her here, but I must. So, there you have it. Thanks, Anne, for your principled stand on issues of tremendous importance to our very survival. I also thank the over one thousand individuals who supported me by signing the petition.
I thank the board of officers at the American Philosophical Association for their historic statement specifically against incidents of bullying and harassment of philosophers. Thanks for responding on my behalf and for all philosophers, especially those of us who critically engage different publics and who often come under attack through the publication of publicly “high profile” articles and essays. Thanks to the Committee on Public Philosophy and the Committee on the Status of Black Philosophers for drafting their supportive letter on my behalf and for their solidarity with me while I was under vicious verbal assault by white racist supremacist attacks and threats, especially of death and physical harm.
Thanks also to those international scholars and philosophers who read Dear White America and reached across space and time to show their support.
I would like to thank all of the white readers of Dear White America who decided to let go, even if for only a moment, of the proverbial mast of the ship and take a leap of faith, to listen to a voice different from your own, and accept the gift that Dear White America attempts to offer. Thanks for your honesty about your white racism, about the ways in which racism is subtle and systemic, and what that means for me, as a person racialized as Black, and for you, as a person racialized as white; indeed, what that means for this nation, the world. Thanks for being human, for aspiring to embrace a far more robust sense of relationality, for recognizing the ways in which there are no edges that separate us. And thanks for understanding that to thank you is not to “praise you,” but it is to acknowledge your humility, vulnerability, and courage to take responsibility seriously, to desire a world that isn’t broken, but whole.
James G. Spady is to be thanked for his continuous expressive genius even under especially difficult personal times. Man, you are an incredible human being.
I thank the Yancy boys. And thanks to the one Yancy girl of mine if you can hear me. Take a moment. Your father is fragile, he is finite, and he loves you with all of his heart. Dear White America was a gift to white people, but a risk. If you decide to emulate your father, know that some risks are worth taking. And as you take that risk, even though I might be long gone, which seems to be an existential contract impossible to break, know that my love for you is a constant. I want you to be brave, to speak with courage, and to leave love behind in a world that is filled with so much hate, violence, and divisiveness.
While this may come as a surprise, and, for some, inappropriate or perhaps undeserving, I would like to take this space to say something of importance to white supremacists. And while none of you are probably reading this book, one never knows. So, if I have your attention, take this to heart. In cosmic time, we are a blink, less than a blink. And while I have faith that there is more to all of this than this less-than-a-blink-moment, I am by no means certain. But let’s assume that this is it, that someday, sooner or later for me and for you, we will become rotting corpses, that we (you and me) will never, ever come this way again, that death is the extinction of your consciousness and mine throughout all of eternity. As the universe expands and perhaps contracts again, what I’m saying is that we may never bear witness to being ever again. It seems to me that the weight of that alone ought to move you with a desperate ache to reach out to me, to desire to know me, to love me, because like you, I am not repeatable, we are both irreplaceable. The weight of that should disarm you. It should flood your body with passion, perhaps even tears, a form of suffering and sorrow that speaks to you of the sheer waste of time and effort that you put into making me your “enemy.” Doing so defaces the miracle and mystery that we are, that we only have this less-than-a-blink-moment to get to know each other and possibly to love each other. I’m no hero. I don’t want to be. But I know that my time is less than a blink and I’ll be damned if I’m going to impair this moment, this less-than-a-blink-moment, that we have been gifted, hating you. It is so easy to hate. So, I’m asking for something complicated, something that is perhaps, at this moment, unknown to you, something whose beauty and promise will lay waste to what you think you are and of what you think you are capable.