I want to begin by naming where I am speaking from. I am a white settler living and working on Treaty 7 territory, the traditional territory of the Siksika, Kainai and Piikani Nations of the Blackfoot Confederacy, as well as the Tsuut’ina and Stoney Nakoda Nations. This is also Métis homeland, including Métis Nation of Alberta Regions 5 and 6.

When we talk about race, colonialism and systems of oppression, where we stand matters. I am not writing from outside these systems or as an objective observer. I have been shaped by them, and I continue to benefit from some of them while also being constrained by others.

That is part of the work for me: becoming more honest about how I have been shaped by the systems I live within, how they shape the way I see the world and how they influence the way I show up in difficult conversations. And I know many of you reading this are on a similar journey.

One question I keep coming back to in my work as a mediator and facilitator is:

What happens to us when a conversation challenges the way we see ourselves, other people or the world around us?

This becomes especially important when we talk about race.

In White Fragility, Robin DiAngelo explores why conversations about race can be so difficult for white people. She argues that many white people grow up with a degree of racial comfort and insulation, leaving us with little experience tolerating racial stress. When that comfort is disrupted, we may become defensive, angry, silent or focused on proving that we are not racist.¹

And there is a real consequence.

When white people’s discomfort becomes the centre of the conversation, a person of colour trying to share their experience can end up managing our feelings instead of being heard.

People of colour have had to navigate difficult conversations and environments for generations—not by choice, but because of systemic racism and oppression. There is a profound difference between choosing to build our capacity to stay present in a difficult conversation and having to develop those skills to survive systems that were not built for you.

That doesn't mean staying in a difficult conversation is easy for anyone. It can be incredibly hard. It asks us to understand our own experiences, reactions, fears and triggers while still being able to listen to what someone else is trying to share.

We are not all impacted by these systems in the same way, but none of us are untouched by them.

When we begin to understand how these systems have shaped us, something important can happen. We can start to see that some of the beliefs, behaviours and ways of relating we have learned are not simply who we are. They have been shaped by the world around us.

That awareness can create choice.

And with choice comes the possibility of changing behaviours and patterns that may be harming us or contributing to systems that keep others down.

This is where I see a connection to the work I do in conflict.

Building our capacity for conflict isn't about staying comfortable; it's about learning to stay present when we are uncomfortable.

What if we could stay grounded and connected enough that people of colour could share what they need to share—and we could actually hear it? What if we could resist the urge to become defensive, shut down or make the conversation about our own discomfort?

That doesn't mean accepting everything someone says without question. It means becoming curious about what is happening inside us when we feel challenged.

Am I becoming defensive? Am I trying to prove that I'm a good person? Am I listening, or preparing my response? Can I hear someone's experience without immediately comparing it to my own?

And there is another layer.

These interactions don't happen in a vacuum. Identity, power, history, belonging and systems all shape how we experience one another.

Who gets believed? Who gets questioned? Who is expected to explain themselves? Who gets to be uncomfortable without consequences?

This is why I believe we need more than better communication skills.

We need opportunities to build our capacity to understand ourselves, each other and the systems we live within and how those systems shape and impact us.

For white people, this can mean understanding how colonialism and being settlers on this land have shaped our experiences, opportunities and ways of seeing the world. It doesn’t mean every white person has the same experience or has personally chosen these systems. We are all shaped by the histories and systems we inherit. Some create greater safety, access and belonging for some while creating exclusion and harm for others.

But these systems also shape us in ways that can be harmful, even when we benefit from them. We can become conditioned to value urgency, overwork and productivity over connection, care and relationship.

The point isn’t to decide who is to blame. It’s to understand that we have all been shaped and impacted by these systems, although not in the same ways. For white people, that means being willing to look at our own relationship to these systems without making the conversation about us.

When we understand how these systems have shaped us, we may become more invested in changing what harms us and others. And that change creates the possibility of liberation—not just for those most harmed by these systems, but for all of us.

For me, this is part of what Conflict Revolution is about.

Not avoiding difficult conversations. Not rushing to agreement. Not deciding who is right and who is wrong.

But learning how to stay in the room when something important is at stake—and becoming more capable of listening, questioning, reflecting and choosing how we respond.

What would our communities look like if we could actually talk about race in a way that created space for truth, connection and possibility? What if these conversations became part of how we build the world we want, rather than something we only dream about?

Learn more about Conflict Revolution and our work with individuals, communities, workplaces and groups at www.conflictrevolution.ca.

¹ Robin DiAngelo, White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard to Talk to White People About Racism (Beacon Press, 2018).