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Dear Prudence,

I’m a liberal, feminist white woman who was born and raised in a very diverse city. My parents raised me with strong values of acceptance and multiculturalism. I’m not saying I’m some perfect ally—I’ve done and said many ignorant things over the course of my life. But I can genuinely say I’ve never had a negative or hateful thought toward someone because of their race. Well, until now.

My country has had a large influx of immigrants from a specific country in recent years, and there is a noticeable cultural change. I am finding myself having racist, prejudiced thoughts for the first time in my life. The thing is, as much as I thought of myself as an accepting, anti-racist person, I’m realizing that because of my upbringing, I’ve never actually had to challenge my beliefs or do the work to unlearn my prejudice. Now that I’m faced with my own racism, I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to feel this way, and I want to challenge these thoughts, but I have no idea where to start.

I know this question might be outside the scope of an advice column, but I genuinely do not know where else to turn. I can’t talk to any of my white friends about my racist thoughts—they’d disown me. And I wouldn’t dream of asking the people of colour in my life to help me with this. I am so deeply ashamed, and I don’t want to feel this way anymore. Do you have any advice on where to start?

—Ashamed

Dear Ashamed,

As terrible as you feel about yourself right now, I hope you feel as strongly as I do about this: The people who should really feel ashamed and really fear being disowned over racism are not the ones who are quietly challenging their own intrusive thoughts and asking for help to change them.

You are not a monster. You’re a person who lives in a world where you absorb some prejudice. That sucks, but you’re also a person who wants to be a force for good, which puts you way ahead of a significant chunk of the population. You’re OK. Unless you are, for example, a realtor letting your biases determine who gets to buy a home or a teacher letting them dictate how you treat kids or something similar, the risk of your thoughts harming someone is reasonably low right now. That doesn’t mean you have to accept them. I believe you can change your inner voice into one that doesn’t horrify you.

You’re not the first person to deal with this issue, so there is a lot of advice out there about what you should do (just search for “how to combat your implicit bias” or similar). The suggestions are all a bit different, but the consensus seems to be that the first step is to recognize the racist thoughts you’re having (check! You’ve done that), followed by self-directed mental exercises—and sometimes some real-world activities—to tweak the way your brain works. None of it involves yelling, “You’re a racist asshole” at yourself.

For example, guidance from the nonprofit Safe Spaces for Advancement of Community and Equity (which the author, Dushaw Hockett, says is partially adapted from “Breaking the Bias Habit: A Workshop to Promote Gender Equity”—Women in Science and Engineering Leadership Institute at University of Wisconsin-Madison) suggests strategies including “Stereotype Replacement,” which is described as:

A) recognize when you’re having a stereotypic thought (or when you observe stereotypic portrayals in society; b) identify the factors behind the thought/portrayal; c) replace the stereotype with a non-stereotypic response. Recognize when stereotypes are activated: What are the feelings—physiological signs—that you have when you spend time with and/or around people with whom you have chemistry;” people with whom you “click?” What are the feelings when you’re with and/or around people who are the opposite?

Another tactic suggested by the group is “perspective-taking,” which means finding creative ways to walk in the shoes of the group that’s the subject of your bias. (“Example—staff of a city-wide organization that works with homeless families deciding to spend a night living on the ‘streets’ to better understand what it’s like to be homeless”). I’m not exactly sure how you would replicate this to take the perspective of members of an immigrant community, but see what you can come up with.

As I poked around the vast unconscious racism-remedying corner of the internet, which really took off several years back in the good old days when it was still legal to aspire to treat all people fairly, I also stumbled upon “Unlearning Racism by Applying Daily Practices for Growth” from the therapy practice Deep Eddy. It resonated with me because I often start responses to letters like yours with “Calm down!”—an attempt to communicate that you don’t need to be in a panic over being a decent person who wants to be better. That sentiment has a lot in common with the first step of their suggested process, which is called “regulating.” Here’s what they say about it:

As a white person, and as someone who identifies as highly sensitive and working through a trauma history, I know firsthand how prone my nervous system is to reacting to issues of race with defensiveness or denial, or fighting for justice before self-reflecting on my own part in the problem. For white people, part of our work is learning to sit with the discomfort in learning and acknowledging how we have, and continue to, benefit from white supremacy. Tolerating our feelings, and those of others, is a significant part of ongoing work around privilege and race and to do that, nervous system regulation is key. Here is a short list of practices to regulate: 4-7-8 deep breathing, running/walking/dancing/exercising, paying attention to our five senses, eight hours of sleep, conversation and physical affection with those with whom we feel safe, making space to cry or yell, spending time in nature, and psychotherapy.

The Deep Eddy advice goes on to suggest “observing” (in your case that would mean paying close attention to the way you feel and react when you encounter a person from the immigrant group that’s the subject of your letter), “listening” (populating your social media feeds with their perspectives and seeking out their first-person accounts of their experiences—something I think is a much better idea than seeking out friendships for the sole purpose of undoing your own bias, which could be a weird experience for the person on the other end) and “acting” (which could involve anything from attending a protest, educating your children, apologizing to someone you may have wronged because of your ideas, or following the lead of people in the immigrant group to provide needed service or push for policy changes).

If you only choose one of these things, start with learning more about the experiences of the people who are the subject of your hateful thoughts. Find out what their lives were like in their home countries, what brought them to the United States, and what they’ve experienced here. If you can, expose yourself to some of the details of their lives outside of their immigrant experiences. Hobbies! Jokes! Music! The universal struggles that come with being a parent, a kid, a teen, or a person with a job! It’s hard to imagine that someone like you, whose default is to care about others, will be able to absorb those narratives without feeling a surge of compassion and admiration that will shove your unwanted negative thoughts right out of the way.

Dear Prudence,

I am a man in my late 30s who is also gay. Between 2015 and 2019, I had a very close friendship with my friend “Sally.” We shared many memories and supported each other through some dark times. During our friendship, Sally said I was her best friend, and that because of our bond, she felt she could truly open up to others. I felt honored and am still touched by that sentiment today. We would even joke about how we were each other’s soulmate (without the arguing or sex, of course).

Then, in the middle of 2019, my dad died, and Sally wasn’t there. We barely hung out, and sometimes our plans would be canceled. When she eventually found a partner, I felt pushed aside even more, as it became one-sided, and her partner was always included in our activities. As the years passed, I ultimately just accepted things as they are now. I have seen her occasionally over the years, but I don’t maintain much of a connection outside of Instagram messages now and then. She’s reached out when I’m in her area to meet up, and while it’s fun, the friendship feels very surface-level.

During that period and up to now, I have built a closer friendship with a mutual friend named “Maria.” Maria and I are quite close, and she has a very close relationship with Sally, who has moved out of state. Recently, I was planning a trip, and Maria asked if I intended to see Sally. I just said, “We’ll see!” and moved on. I don’t really plan to visit Sally at all. Maria has asked about me seeing or talking to Sally from time to time, and I usually respond vaguely, like “Oh yeah, we chatted,” even when we haven’t. My question is whether I should keep giving these vague answers about my relationship with Sally or just tell Maria the truth—that we’re no longer really in contact.

—Not Friends Till The End

Dear Not Friends,

Definitely be honest. “We’re actually not close anymore. We drifted apart after my dad died” should do it. If Maria offers to facilitate a reunion, you can give her the next level of detail, which might sound something like: “We’re friendly, but I was honestly pretty hurt when I felt like she pulled back from our friendship during a hard time, and I don’t think I want to reconnect.”

Prudie Wants to Hear From You!

Readers often have great suggestions for our letter writers, occasionally disagree with a point Prudie makes, or simply want to provide some additional advice. Each week, Prudie will be replying to some of these comments and suggestions from readers, which will be featured on the site on Fridays for Slate Plus members. Write to us! Or submit a question here.

Dear Prudence,

My dad was physically and verbally abusive to the whole family throughout my childhood, and my mom did nothing. We were briefly removed to foster care one time, but nothing really changed. As an adult, I moved as far away as you can get while still being in the U.S. I avoid spending time with them or talking often. My siblings and I don’t really talk much or stay in touch.

This fall, my mom inherited a big and unexpected sum of money from a relative and immediately initiated divorce proceedings. She moved so fast I don’t think my dad had time to ruin things, and now they’re divorced.

I’m happy for her in an abstract way: My dad is not good to be around, so I’m glad she got out. But she’s been reaching out a lot, talking about becoming closer, and I don’t want to. She wants to talk about him like we’re both victims recovering from the same thing, and we’re not. I don’t want to hear about her marriage, I don’t want to talk about feelings or the past at all together. She was able to divorce him when she had money, and it was just to protect herself, but not when it would have protected her kids. I have permanent physical damage from growing up in that house, and part of it is her fault for not getting us out. I have my own life here, and my own parent figures and loving friends and people who care about me. She doesn’t qualify, and no matter how much I say no, she keeps coming back. How do I stop this?

—Distant Daughter

Dear Distant Daughter,

You’ve done all the work yourself. Allow me to present your script to your mom, which is your own words with pronouns edited: “I’m happy for you in an abstract way: Dad is not good to be around, so I’m glad you got out. But you’ve been reaching out a lot, talking about becoming closer, and I don’t want to. You want to talk about him like we’re both victims recovering from the same thing, and we’re not. I don’t want to hear about your marriage, I don’t want to talk about feelings or the past at all together. You were able to divorce him when you had money, and it was just to protect yourself, but not when it would have protected your kids. I have permanent physical damage from growing up in that house, and part of it is your fault for not getting us out. I have my own life here, and my own parent figures and loving friends and people who care about me.”

Classic Prudie

Am I overreacting that my entire family forgot my milestone birthday on my cousin’s wedding day? I turned 30 this year. I’m a big fan of celebrating my birthday. At my 29th birthday, people started talking about the last year of my 20s, and I told them I had planned to do a big year of events all leading up to a huge party on my 30th birthday and a trip the week after. I thought it was fortuitous that my birthday was on a Saturday this year, so I planned on going big. One of my cousins asked about my birthday plans at Christmas and I told everybody about them. Well, on New Year’s Eve, my cousin got engaged. They decided they wanted to get married by the end of the year and guess what date they picked? My birthday.

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