My son recently moved back home after college, and I’m fortunate to have long conversations with him, the kind every parent hopes for. He’s biracial, more visibly so than I am, and extraordinarily thoughtful. One of his majors was African American Studies, and he often sees aspects of race that I may miss these crazy days.
I grew up in a country emerging from Jim Crow, when many Americans believed that while laws could change overnight, hearts could not. Many believed progress would be gradual: the law would move first, and culture would, however imperfectly, follow. Whether that was wisdom or simply caution is a debate for another day, but it shaped how many understood race.
The debate today is different. We are no longer arguing merely about the pace of progress. We are increasingly arguing about whether the goals themselves—diversity, equity, and inclusion—are worthy. From the highest levels of government, we hear claims that efforts to address historical discrimination have themselves become discriminatory. Last week, the administration moved to place warnings on Smithsonian exhibits, as though history itself required an official disclaimer. It is a strange moment when government feels compelled not simply to preserve history, but to referee how it should be understood.
My son gets angry about racism, and understandably so. In an era when prejudice is too often winked at, excused, or repackaged as common sense, outrage is not only understandable but often morally appropriate. But I also try to share something experience has taught me: do not give racists more power than they already possess.
Some wield genuine power and deserve vigorous opposition. They write laws, shape institutions, influence hiring, voting, education, and opportunity. They should be confronted without hesitation.
Others, however, are simply loud, foolish, and eager to provoke. They delight in outrage because outrage gives them significance. Anger is justified, but it is also a currency, and we should be careful about whom we enrich.
Changing hearts has always been difficult. Changing laws, institutions, and opportunities is difficult too, but at least it is measurable. That is where our greatest effort belongs. We should oppose policies that deepen inequality, challenge leaders who traffic in resentment, and resist attempts to rewrite history in service of politics. But we should not mistake every ignorant remark for a historic event, nor every provocateur for a profound threat.
The task is to distinguish between what deserves confrontation and what deserves dismissal.
One of the privileges of growing older is realizing that not every opinion deserves a place in your mind. The people whose judgment should matter are those whose judgment we admire. If someone is consumed by prejudice, why should their opinion become the measure of our worth? They may reveal something important about themselves, but they need not define us.
Fight injustice. Defend those who are vulnerable. Change laws where laws are unjust. But never surrender your peace of mind to people whose approval you would never seek.