This year, I developed and launched a White Accountability Learning Series as part of my independent consulting practice, Lynnae Hill Talent Advising. These are tailored, relationship-centered learning (or more appropriately - “un-learning”) spaces for white people who believe that in order to transform the world, we must transform ourselves, and the only path to doing so demands that we hold each other accountable.
A core pillar of my consulting practice is that we need to operationalize equity, which includes creating systems that are designed to bring people together – and keep them in relationship with one another. The concept of accountability has – like so many terms and phrases in the DEI space – become commodified and weaponized to blame and shame. I have so many stories of seeing people “speak truth to power” as a means of accountability. I’ve borne witness to public shaming in organizations, and I’ve not just received this type of accountability, I know I’ve perpetuated it.
I first learned the notion that accountability could be something not punitive from Tanya Williams and Bari Katz as part of their Liberatory Consciousness Learning Series, based on Dr. Barbara J. Love’s essay by the same name. My head exploded at the notion of kind and loving accountability, and it’s riveted me ever since.
We inherently need belonging. So, I began to ask myself – and consider with my colleagues at the time – what would it look like to move more into accountable belonging as a means of individual accountability? What would accountability look like if it wasn’t scary, but as an opportunity and a place for growth? What could it mean if we actually held each other accountable, as if we were in a warm embrace? How can accountability pull us together, not further apart? Could accountability be an act of love?
I believe not only that it can, but that if we are going to change the world, it has to be. And in order to learn loving accountability, we must practice, and we must practice together.
Because of systems of oppression like racism, and because of the harm that colonized white people like me perpetuate, intentionally or unintentionally, it’s essential that white people come together in spaces where we can learn how to hold one another accountable, acknowledging the mindsets, actions, and behaviors that are deep seeded within us, that we have internalized, and that we consistently normalize and preserve.
When I speak of loving accountability, I don’t mean a space for excuses, defensiveness, hyper-analysis, performative white niceness, jumping to solutions, or the most aggravating one - vying for the gold medal in the woke olympics.
I mean unlearning all of that, and being uncomfortable, and knowing that you and I, as all white people, are part of this suffocating stew – hell, we’re the ones that made the recipe – and that you and I need to take responsibility for the white supremacist system that swarms within and around all of us, and become accountable in community.
The warm embrace I’m talking about is not for excuse making, or accepting shame, or enabling guilt. It’s not a nice pat on the back, justifying fragility. In fact, it may (and should) at first feel cold – like a shock to the system when you jump into an ice bath (which I also highly recommend!) I promise, the long term effect of continuing to take the plunge, with lifeguards and fellow divers around you, will ultimately feel like, and become, a sacred, persistent act of healing. You’ll eventually feel warm and steady, having shifted your perspective on what taking accountability looks and feels like.
This is exactly what happened to me about six years ago. During a session with a group of colleagues, a mentor leaned in to me and said in front of the group – “this isn’t meant to be an ‘I got you,’ but do you see how you are perpetuating white supremacy right now?” I cried (yes, damnit, white lady tears), and with sincere frustration said “no!” I truly did not recognize that my perfectionism, hyper-individualism, and fear of conflict was causing hurt and harm to others. These ways of being are so ingrained in us, it requires us to learn with one another how to get out of it.
You simply cannot self-analyze your way out of white supremacy.
After that moment, some people from that room continued to give me a chance, and held me lovingly accountable, and over time, I built the resilience to see more clearly, and move into a steady pace of taking responsibility, staying in it when it got tough, and making a pact with myself to continue doing so in relationship with others. Listen, I fumbled along the way, and I still do. Unlearning the indoctrination of capitalism and colonialism that lives in everything we do and everywhere we are will be a lifelong journey. But, I want to envision a different world, and I know you do, too. So, let’s be accountable with one another. Let’s hold each other accountable like a warm embrace.
To create belonging through accountability, we need to recognize that:
We create accountability through shared norms and expectations; this is not sameness – this is respecting our agreements to try - and to support one another in the trying
Accountability is relational, not dominant: it says “I am with you and that is why I am trying to show you what you might be missing”
Accountability means integrity: it promises to be honest
Accountability means listening to your instinct AND interrogating the colonized information we’ve all been taught, continuously
Accountability is courageous - because you WILL mess up often, which is why white people need to do the work together so as to alleviate further harm to non-white people (and ourselves)
Accountability is forgiving
Accountability requires candor
Accountability is compassionate
Accountability is building a liberatory consciousness
I invite you to think about creating a challenging and loving accountability exploration with white people in your organization, on your team, on your block. Imagine what it would be like to have accountable belonging that will lead to less harm, more compassion, and shift the system of oppression towards love and liberation. Imagine what your life would be like without guilt, shame, and constant trepidation that you’re not doing it right. Imagine the steadiness that will come and the energy you will have to keep showing up to create a better world. Just imagine.
Steady as she goes,
Lynnae
What I’m listening to on repeat: My dear friend Jenn would be happy to know that I am loving the new Waxahatchee album, Tigers Blood. Today, my favorite song is “Right Back to It.” It feeds my love of an old school, Appalachian country vibe with beautiful harmonies. I just sway back and forth listening to it.
Notes of Gratitude:
Special shout-out to Carol, Vivian, Katie, Megan, Shane, Bobbi, Jenn, Terri, Mindy, Beth, Michelle, and Nicole for becoming paid subscribers; I am so deeply grateful.
Thank you to everyone who has chosen to follow this evolving experience.