Why Racism is a White Problem to be Fixed by White People

As a Middle Eastern therapist who is white-passing and committed to serving BIPOC and LGBTQIA+ communities, I have a small fraction of experience with marginalization based on my ethnic identity. While my experience differs significantly from that of my Black, Indigenous, and other clients of color, I believe it's crucial to address the systemic issues that impact all our mental health—even when it means having uncomfortable conversations about race and privilege.

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The statistics are stark: BIPOC individuals are 20% more likely to experience serious mental health problems, yet they access mental health services at significantly lower rates than white Americans. According to the American Psychological Association, this disparity isn't about individual choices—it's about systemic barriers that were intentionally created and continue to be maintained by white-dominated institutions.

It's time we name this reality clearly: racism is fundamentally a white problem that requires white people to fix it.

The System Was Built by White People, For White People

Racism isn't just individual prejudice—it's a comprehensive system of policies, practices, and cultural norms designed to maintain white advantage. As Dr. Ibram X. Kendi explains in How to Be an Antiracist, "The only way to undo racism is to consistently identify and describe it—and then dismantle it."

This system didn't emerge naturally. It was deliberately constructed through centuries of policy decisions: redlining that segregated neighborhoods, exclusion from the GI Bill benefits that built white generational wealth, medical experiments like Tuskegee that violated Black bodies, and immigration policies that determined which groups could access citizenship and its protections.

In mental healthcare specifically, we see this legacy in:

• Diagnostic bias that pathologizes normal responses to oppression
• Treatment approaches developed primarily on white populations
• Healthcare deserts in communities of color
• Insurance and payment structures that create barriers to access
• Professional training that centers whiteness as the default

When BIPOC individuals struggle to trust healthcare systems, they're responding rationally to documented patterns of harm and neglect.

Privilege Isn't About Guilt—It's About Responsibility

White privilege doesn't mean white people don't face hardships. It means they don't face additional hardships because of their race. As Dr. Robin DiAngelo notes in her research on white fragility, recognizing privilege isn't about feeling guilty—it's about understanding how systems work so we can change them.

In my therapy practice, I've seen how unexamined privilege can harm therapeutic relationships. When white therapists dismiss racial trauma, minimize experiences of discrimination, or fail to understand how racism intersects with other forms of oppression, they recreate the same systemic exclusion their BIPOC clients face everywhere else.

Privilege in action might look like:

• Never questioning whether your skin color affects how others perceive you
• Having therapy techniques that work because they were designed for people like you
• Not having to educate your therapist about racism while trying to heal from it
• Seeing positive representation of your racial group in mental health materials

Acknowledging these advantages isn't self-flagellation—it's the first step toward using that privilege constructively.

Real Change Requires Real Sacrifice

Moving beyond performative allyship means white people must be willing to give up something real. Dr. Beverly Daniel Tatum emphasizes that creating equity isn't about adding resources for BIPOC communities—it often requires redistributing resources that have historically flowed to white communities.

In healthcare and therapy, this might mean:

Sacrificing Comfort: Having difficult conversations about race, examining our own biases, and accepting feedback when we cause harm—even unintentionally.

Redistributing Resources: Sliding scale fees that actually serve low-income BIPOC clients, investing in BIPOC-owned businesses, referring to BIPOC therapists even when it means less income for white-owned practices.

Changing Networks: Building referral relationships with BIPOC professionals, attending trainings led by BIPOC educators, centering BIPOC voices in professional development.

Relinquishing Control: Following BIPOC leadership in anti-racist efforts rather than directing them, supporting BIPOC-led mental health initiatives even when we're not centered in the work.

The discomfort white people feel when asked to sacrifice comfort, resources, or social positioning is exactly the point—it reveals how much we've benefited from systems that harm others.

What Anti-Racist Therapy Actually Looks Like

BIPOC clients don't need their therapists to be perfect—they need them to be actively working against the systems that cause harm. In my practice, this commitment shows up as ongoing education through regular training on racial trauma, cultural humility, and liberation psychology without expecting my BIPOC clients to educate me about racism. It includes community accountability by building relationships with BIPOC mental health professionals who can offer feedback and guidance when I make mistakes. I provide accessible services with sliding scale options that actually serve low-income BIPOC clients, not just middle-class clients having temporary financial difficulties. I work to create an affirming environment with intake forms that recognize diverse family structures, art and materials that reflect BIPOC experiences, and policies that protect clients from discrimination. Most importantly, I maintain a trauma-informed understanding that recognizes experiences of racism, discrimination, and historical trauma aren't pathology but reasonable responses to real harm that require systemic solutions alongside individual healing.

The Intersection of Identity and Healing

For BIPOC individuals who are also LGBTQIA+, military veterans, or hold other marginalized identities, the impact of systemic oppression compounds exponentially. Research shows that intersectional discrimination creates unique mental health challenges that require therapists who understand how multiple systems of oppression interact and reinforce each other.

Consider the current legislative assault on transgender individuals across the United States. At the time of writing, over 500 anti-trans bills have been introduced in state legislatures, targeting everything from healthcare access to bathroom usage to participation in sports. These laws don't exist in a vacuum—they're part of the same white supremacist framework that has historically used legislation to control and marginalize communities of color.

The tactics are strikingly similar: dehumanizing rhetoric that portrays the targeted group as dangerous, legislation that restricts basic human rights under the guise of "protection," and the weaponization of moral panic to justify systemic exclusion. Just as Jim Crow laws were designed to maintain white supremacy through legal segregation, anti-trans legislation functions to maintain cisgender, heteronormative supremacy through legal erasure.

For BIPOC transgender individuals, this intersection creates what legal scholar Kimberlé Crenshaw termed "intersectionality"—a framework that recognizes how multiple forms of oppression don't simply add together but create entirely new experiences of marginalization. A Black transgender woman doesn't just face racism plus transphobia; she faces a unique form of discrimination that targets her specifically as a Black trans woman, often with deadly consequences. According to the Human Rights Campaign, Black and Latina transgender women face disproportionately high rates of violence and murder compared to other demographics.

This intersectional oppression shows up in therapy in complex ways. A Black transgender veteran, for example, navigates racism in military culture, transphobia in Black communities, transmisogyny in feminist spaces, and both racism and transphobia in LGBTQIA+ spaces. Current anti-trans legislation adds another layer: the constant stress of having their very existence debated in public forums and threatened by legal restrictions. This isn't just individual bias—it's coordinated systemic violence designed to eliminate transgender people from public life.

Effective therapy must acknowledge these intersectional realities without pathologizing the client's responses to systemic harm. When a trans person of color experiences hypervigilance, depression, or anxiety, these aren't mental health disorders to be treated in isolation—they're reasonable responses to living under multiple systems of oppression that are actively trying to erase their existence.

Moving Forward: From Guilt to Action

White people often get stuck in guilt about racism, but guilt centers white feelings rather than BIPOC liberation. The goal isn't for white people to feel bad—it's for white people to act differently.

If you're a white person reading this:

• Examine your own racial conditioning through resources like White Fragility or Me and White Supremacy
• Support BIPOC-owned businesses and mental health practices
• Advocate for policy changes that address systemic inequities
• When you make mistakes, focus on accountability rather than defensiveness

If you're a BIPOC person considering therapy:

• You deserve a therapist who understands the systemic context of your experiences
• It's okay to interview potential therapists about their anti-racist commitments
• Your healing matters, and finding the right therapeutic support is part of that healing
• You're not responsible for educating white therapists about racism

Our Collective Responsibility

Dismantling racism isn't a BIPOC responsibility—it's a human responsibility that requires white people to take leadership in undoing systems we created and maintain. In mental healthcare, this means creating truly inclusive, affirming spaces where BIPOC individuals can heal without having to navigate additional layers of discrimination.

At my practice, I'm committed to this ongoing work—not because I'm perfect, but because BIPOC clients deserve therapists who are actively working to understand and address the systemic issues that impact their lives. This includes staying accountable to the communities I serve and continuously examining how I can use my privilege to create more equitable access to mental healthcare.

True healing happens not just in individual therapy sessions, but when we address the systemic conditions that create trauma in the first place. That's work that requires all of us—and it starts with white people taking responsibility for the systems we've inherited and choosing to use our power to change them.

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If you're looking for LGBTQIA+ affirming, trauma-informed therapy that takes a systemic approach to healing, I'd welcome the opportunity to discuss how we can work together. I offer sliding scale options and am committed to creating a space where all aspects of your identity are honored and affirmed.