Failure to address white guilt causes societal macro traumas—these specifically target POC.

While the instances above can be considered micro-traumas, the impact of more intense traumatic experiences of POC in response to unexamined white guilt warrants further discussion. I understand why Caflisch may have opted for less elaboration on this topic, as white writers face ethical risks describing the trauma of POC. I also understand the risk I face by elaborating on more serious trauma: that is, to potentially worsen the sense of irreparability that may already be felt by white people. However, per Baldwin (1962), “nothing can be changed until it is faced.”

I would like to focus on a scenario that Caflisch describes, a scene familiar to me as one of few POC typically in attendance at academic and psychoanalytic panels on race. She describes the unraveling of the audience members in response to the content on race. Commentary that “reverse[s] course” (Caflisch, this issue, p. 587) to perceived social danger, and the refusal of white people as a group (or vocal members of a group) to accept whatever has been said as applicable to themselves. If the disorganization is not claimed by the actors, then it is absorbed by the bystanders who represent both white and the few POC in the audience. In this way, the impact of trauma sees no color. In the many times, I have found myself in this scenario, I too perceive social danger, difficulty in following my thoughts, and start to question whether or not I am to blame if I asked a question or made a comment. Statements like “‘this is not who we are’” (Caflisch, this issue) make me wonder whether I am included in the “we,” since I do not look like the crowd or the speaker. Since I am not white, maybe the “this is not us” implies that the badness is then because of me, or people who look like me. I sit silently, continuing to listen to comments wondering whether I am the only one questioning who is to blame or feeling offended. I question whether what I am experiencing is real and I weigh the decision to ask a question to figure out if what I am experiencing is real—knowing that a “no” from the speaker will destroy me. For me, asking a question will not only give me an opportunity to clarify but is also an opportunity for protest, and I need the protest: I need to protest the aggression that I feel projected onto me. After all, there are already so many mainstream and community-specific messages insinuating that, as a Black, queer, androgynous appearing woman, there is something wrong about me.