Dear White People

White guilt, as I’ve come to understand it, is a complex emotion—a tangle of remorse, shame, or responsibility some of you may feel for the actions of ancestors or systems tied to your racial identity. It’s a term I’ve seen flash across  social media posts, academic discussions, and quiet conversations, often laced with defensiveness or pain. From my vantage point, it seems to arise from a confrontation with history: the given history of slavery, colonialism, and systemic injustices in a nation we now inherit. These are given information that have been fed to us, to be etched into the records of time—millions enslaved, indigenous lands seized, and discriminatory policies woven into the fabric of nations.Data from the U.S. Census Bureau shows that racial disparities in wealth, education, and incarceration persist, with Black Americans holding a median household income of $46,073 in 2021 compared to $71,664 for white Americans, a gap rooted in historical inequities. These numbers are not accusations but realities, and they seem to fuel a sense of culpability for some apparently? 

Yet, as I reflect on this, I wonder: what does it mean to carry guilt for actions you did not commit? As an Asian woman, I am no stranger to the weight of history. My own people have faced internment, exclusion acts, and stereotypes that linger like shadows. But I do not hold myself accountable for the choices of emperors or governments long gone, nor do I expect you to bear the sins of your forebears as your own. Guilt, in its essence, is a personal reckoning—a response to one’s own actions. To extend it across generations risks diluting its meaning, transforming it into a burden that neither heals nor resolves. The philosopher Søren Kierkegaard once wrote that life must be lived forward but understood backward. To me, this suggests a call to acknowledge history’s truths without being chained to its mistakes.

I see white guilt manifest in ways both subtle and overt: in the hesitancy to speak on race for fear of misstepping, in the performative apologies that flood social media, or in the quiet discomfort of those who feel they must atone for a past they did not shape. On social media I’ve read posts where users lament their whiteness as if it were a stain, while others reject the notion entirely, insisting they owe nothing to history. Both responses, I think, miss a deeper truth. Guilt, when unexamined, can paralyze. It can turn inward, fostering resentment, or outward, into gestures that seek absolution but change little. As an outsider to your experience, I cannot presume to know how this feels in your heart. Do you feel targeted? Defensive? Perhaps liberated by confronting it? I can only imagine, and I hope you’ll forgive my limitations in understanding.

But here is what I believe: you are not your ancestors. Their choices, their cruelties, their ignorances—these are not your own. To carry guilt for them is to deny your own agency, your own capacity to shape the present. The philosopher Hannah Arendt spoke of the “banality of evil,” the idea that great wrongs often stem from ordinary people failing to think critically. By extension, I’d argue that great good can come from ordinary people choosing to think, to act, to question. You are not doomed by history to repeat its errors; you are free to forge a different path. This is not to dismiss the past—acknowledging it is vital, for denial only perpetuates harm. But acknowledgment is not the same as guilt. One is a clear-eyed reckoning; the other, a heavy cloak that can obscure your ability to move forward.

I urge you to set down this guilt, not because the past is unimportant, but because it is not yours to bear alone. History is a collective inheritance, and we all—white, Asian, Black, Indigenous, and beyond—share the responsibility of learning from it. Instead of guilt, embrace curiosity. Ask: what can I do today to bridge divides? How can I listen, learn, and act without the shadow of shame? The data tells us where inequities lie; let it guide your efforts, not your self-worth. Volunteer in communities that need support, advocate for policies that address systemic gaps, or simply engage in honest conversations with those unlike you. These acts, small or large, ripple outward.

As an young girl entering adulthood and navigating life, I’ve sometimes felt the sting of being judged by my race, reduced to a stereotype or an outsider. I know you may feel something similar when discussions of white guilt arise—a sense of being defined not as an individual but as a symbol. I don’t pretend to know your struggle, but I see its echoes in my own. Let us both reject these reductions. You are more than your skin, just as I am more than mine. We are individuals with choices, dreams, and the power to shape what comes next.

So, dear reader, I encourage you to step forward unburdened. Recognize the past, yes, but do not let it define you. Guilt is a heavy companion, and it serves no one—not you, not those wronged by history, not the future we hope to build. Instead, let understanding and action be your guides. As Plato said, we are all philosophers in our pursuit of truth, and the truth is this: you are here, now, with the chance to make things better. Embrace it.

With hope for us all,
     Noodle

Sources Referenced

1.  U.S. Census Bureau (2021): Data on racial disparities in household income, specifically the median household income for Black Americans ($46,073) and white Americans ($71,664) in 2021. This was sourced from the U.S. Census Bureau’s Current Population Survey, Annual Social and Economic Supplement, available at: https://www.census.gov/data/tables/2021/demo/income-poverty/cps-asec.html. This provided the statistical foundation for discussing systemic inequities rooted in historical practices.

2.  Historical Context: General references to slavery, colonialism, and systemic injustices (e.g., U.S. slavery, Native American land dispossession, and discriminatory policies like redlining) were drawn from widely accepted historical records. These are well-documented in academic sources such as:

•  Foner, Eric. Give Me Liberty!: An American History (W.W. Norton, 2019), for U.S. history on slavery and segregation.

•  Zinn, Howard. A People’s History of the United States (HarperCollins, 1980), for colonialism and indigenous displacement.

3.  Philosophical References:

•  Kierkegaard, Søren. Either/Or (1843), for the concept of living forward but understanding backward, accessed via philosophical texts available in public domain archives like Project MUSE.

•  Arendt, Hannah. Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil (Penguin Classics, 1963), for the concept of the banality of evil, sourced from academic summaries and excerpts available online.