Narrator: Imagine an anti-racism workshop. For an hour, the facilitator, a white educator named Robin DiAngelo, has laid bare the uncomfortable truths of systemic racism and the complicity of those who benefit from it. As the session ends, a hand goes up. A white participant asks a question DiAngelo has heard thousands of times: "So, what do I do?" On the surface, it sounds like a plea for action. But after years of this work, DiAngelo recognizes it for what it often is: a deflection. It’s a way to shift the discomfort, to demand a simple, painless checklist that absolves the questioner of the hard, personal work required. Her counter-question is far more revealing: "How have you managed not to know?"

This profound gap between asking for answers and doing the work to find them is the space that Layla F. Saad’s book, Me and White Supremacy, courageously occupies. It doesn't offer a simple to-do list. Instead, it provides a mirror and a 28-day guided journey for people with white privilege to understand their role in an oppressive system and begin the lifelong work of dismantling it from the inside out.

Narrator: The book begins by deconstructing the very question that many white people believe is the start of their anti-racism journey. As Robin DiAngelo explains in the foreword, the question "What do I do?" is often asked to relieve the asker's racial discomfort, not to genuinely seek direction. The information on how to combat racism is abundant, created and shared for centuries by Black, Indigenous, and People of Color (BIPOC). The failure to seek it out, DiAngelo argues, reveals a deep-seated apathy. The question places the burden of education back onto the oppressed and implies that if the answer isn't simple and convenient, the work isn't worth doing.

Layla F. Saad’s work reframes the starting point. The work isn’t about being handed an external action plan; it’s about embarking on an internal excavation. It requires individuals to first understand how they are complicit in the system of white supremacy. Before one can "do," one must first "see." This means confronting the uncomfortable truth that white supremacy isn't just about extremist groups with hateful ideologies. It is the foundational, often invisible, system that shapes society, granting unearned power and privilege to white people while inflicting harm on BIPOC. The book’s premise is that this work is not about "those white people out there." It is about you.

Narrator: To begin this work, Saad introduces several foundational concepts that are often misunderstood. The first is White Privilege, which she, citing Peggy McIntosh, describes as an "invisible knapsack" of unearned assets. These are not about wealth or an easy life; they are about the systemic advantages that come with being white—like seeing your race widely represented in media, not being followed in stores, or having your pain taken seriously by doctors. Saad shares a personal story of her mother explaining that, as a Black, Muslim girl, she would have to work three times as hard as her peers just to get ahead—a burden her white classmates did not carry.

This privilege is protected by White Fragility, a term coined by Robin DiAngelo to describe the defensive, emotional reactions—anger, fear, guilt, tears—that white people often exhibit when their racial worldview is challenged. This fragility shuts down crucial conversations and centers white feelings over the harm experienced by BIPOC. This defensiveness is often expressed through White Silence, the choice to not speak up against racism. Saad illustrates the profound pain of this silence through the story of a close white friend who withdrew completely after Saad published a viral article on white supremacy. The friend’s silence was a betrayal, demonstrating that inaction is not neutral; it is a violent act of complicity that protects the racist status quo.

Narrator: Once the internal framework is established, the book moves to the external manifestations of white supremacy, with a crucial focus on Anti-Blackness. Saad argues that because Black people so profoundly symbolize race in the white consciousness, any true anti-racism work must specifically address the dehumanizing messages one has internalized about Black people. This goes beyond general racism to confront a specific, foundational pillar of white supremacy.

One of the most devastating ways this manifests is in the "adultification" of Black children. The book cites studies from the Georgetown Law Center on Poverty and Inequality showing that adults perceive Black girls as less innocent, more adult-like, and less in need of nurturing than their white peers starting as young as five years old. Similarly, research shows Black boys are seen as older and more threatening. This isn't just an abstract bias; it has lethal consequences. It’s why a 12-year-old boy like Tamir Rice, playing with a toy gun in a park, can be perceived as a threat and killed by police within seconds. It’s why the childhood of Black children is stolen from them, as they are not afforded the same presumption of innocence as their white peers. This is the brutal reality that well-intentioned ideas like "color blindness"—the claim of not seeing race—completely erase.

Narrator: For those who have begun this work, Week 3 of the book serves as a critical warning about the pitfalls of performative or flawed allyship. Saad defines allyship not as an identity one can claim, but as a lifelong practice that must be recognized by the marginalized people one seeks to support. Too often, this practice is distorted by behaviors that do more harm than good.

One such behavior is White Saviorism, the belief that white people are needed to "save" helpless BIPOC, a mindset that reinforces colonial power dynamics. Another is Optical Allyship, a term coined by Latham Thomas, which describes allyship that is all for show. It’s about looking like an ally for social credit without doing the real, risky work. Saad provides a powerful personal example of this. During her viral #MeAndWhiteSupremacy Instagram challenge, she was invited to speak at a predominantly white spiritual women's festival to be a "diverse voice." When her team asked what policies the festival had to protect her from racial microaggressions, the organizer replied they "can't protect from people being assholes." This revealed the festival wasn't interested in true allyship; it was interested in the appearance of it. They wanted to use her presence as a prop without doing the work to create a genuinely safe and anti-racist space.

Narrator: The 28-day journey outlined in Me and White Supremacy is not a finish line. It is a starting block for a lifelong practice. The final section of the book emphasizes that personal transformation is only the first step. The ultimate goal is to move from personal work to systemic change, challenging racism within families, friendships, workplaces, and communities. This requires a willingness to relinquish the comforts of privilege—to speak up when it's risky, to decenter one's own feelings, to amplify BIPOC voices, and to hold leaders accountable.

Saad’s work is driven by a powerful desire: to become a "good ancestor." This concept frames anti-racism not as a burden, but as a legacy. It is about living and working in a way that heals injustice and creates a world where future generations, particularly BIPOC, can live with freedom, dignity, and equality. The work is not about achieving perfection; it is about making a daily commitment to do better. It’s about re-pledging that commitment every time you fall short and understanding that being called out for a mistake is not a deterrent to the work—it is the work.

Narrator: The single most important takeaway from Me and White Supremacy is that dismantling this oppressive system is an inside-out job. It is not about pointing fingers at overt racists but about holding up a mirror and examining one's own reflection in a system built on racial hierarchy. It requires taking radical responsibility for the unearned privilege that system confers and committing to a lifelong process of unlearning.

The book’s ultimate challenge is to move beyond the fear of saying or doing the wrong thing and to embrace the discomfort of trying to do the right thing, over and over again. It leaves the reader with a profound and practical charge. The real question is not "What do I do?" but "Who do I choose to become for the sake of our collective humanity?" The answer to that question will determine the legacy we leave behind.