The department of psychology wants to help build a more welcoming climate for racial and ethnic minority students, staff and faculty at Iowa State.

One way in which we would like to demonstrate our commitment to reducing racism and discrimination is this editorial series.

For the next several months, educational pieces on the psychology of racism and personal stories written by various faculty and students will be shared. The first three editorials described the scientific underpinnings of stereotypes, prejudice and discrimination and offered suggestions for how these can be overcome. Results from a large study of African-American families in Iowa were summarized last time. The main conclusion of that study was that we harm children when we underestimate their abilities, an experience that occurs frequently in the lives of African-American children.

Today, Nathaniel Wade, professor of psychology, describes his personal journey to understanding white privilege.

This series was edited by Stephanie Carrera, graduate student in psychology, and Carolyn Cutrona, professor and chair of psychology.

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My professor asked our reactions to the reading, an essay on slavery, oppression and race relations in the United States. For a while, I struggled to stifle my reaction, which I knew was inappropriate and certainly not politically correct. Finally, I couldn’t resist. “I don’t know why blacks are still complaining about slavery,” I said. “That ended over a hundred years ago.”

My simple statement carried so many opinions and beliefs I had never voiced. In the privacy of my own thoughts, I often wondered: Shouldn’t black people (or any minority group) be beyond claiming racism?

There was equality now, the right to vote, anti-discrimination laws and even affirmative action. Don’t we, as whites, have the right to complain about reverse discrimination? Why does slavery even come into the conversation?

I didn’t enslave anyone. In fact, I was from the North; my ancestors were more likely to have fought for emancipation and not owned slaves than anything else. I’m not a racist. I support equal opportunity for everyone. These claims of “oppression” are excuses for laziness or lack of ambition. Nobody is oppressed anymore.

There was a palpable silence in the classroom following my statement. Then, a minority student spoke up. She addressed my comment and many of the underlying beliefs I hadn’t spoken, but was thinking. She talked about her experience.

She told me, and my white classmates, what it was like to be black at a mostly white college, in a mostly white town, in a mostly white country. She shared how her skin color alone gave her a vastly different experience in a culture where white was the default.

She opened up about the hate looks she would get from white people on a weekly basis and the isolation of having to represent her race in everything from her choice of television shows to her performance in the classroom. She talked heatedly and openly about the reasons why slavery, racism and oppression are still very relevant for minorities and how it was a privilege for those of us who were white not to even have to think about these things.

Although my words probably served as yet another micro-aggression that my classmate endured, she nonetheless gave me a gift that day. This was over 20 years ago and I still remember the new perspective I gained from her passionate response. Despite all the reasonable, well-argued points she made, I mostly recall my experience of just hearing her story. I saw a glimpse into her experience and came face-to-face with my white privilege.

I have had other experiences since that event that have challenged my perspective and helped me to see my privilege as a white person in this country. Books such as “White Like Me” and articles like “White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack” have given me insights into the difficulties faced by minorities that majority folks don’t even see.

Participating in events in which I was the minority (for example, attending an all-black church) showed me what it felt like to stand out based on skin color and the uncertainty and discomfort this can cause. But most of all, having honest conversations with minorities has shown me what my everyday life experience has hidden; not everyone is treated fairly or kindly, and most minorities experience consistent harassment from majority individuals, groups and institutions.

These things have made me aware of other ways that I am privileged. I am not only white, but male, Christian, straight, upper-middle class, and I speak English as a native language. In each of these, I am lucky. I did not choose or earn these things.

Yet in this country, they all confer upon me special privileges, access, opportunities and freedom from the hassles and heartaches that many people in the United States suffer every day. For example, I don’t have to worry that my friends and I will get harassed or be called demeaning names if we decide to go out in public. I don’t worry about my safety if police approach me. Most holidays and days off fall on my religion’s holy days.

I am grateful to my friends and colleagues who have taken the chance to be open about their experiences, to be vulnerable with me about their pain and discontent. I am grateful to my classmate who took the chance to share her experiences with me rather than stifling her opinion. These experiences have helped me to become better aware of the full range of human experience and have given me empathy for people different from me.

If anything, my experience has shown me that commands to be politically correct and to “not be racist,” don’t work. That makes racism simply go underground. We hide it in public and then allow it to emerge in the safety of close (same-race) friends.

Change and understanding does not occur that way. Change did not occur for me until I found a way to talk — really talk — with people who were different from me. Relating across differences like race, ethnicity or sexual orientation is not about who is right and who is wrong. It is certainly not about being politically correct. It is about taking enough time and showing enough courage to listen without judgment to the others’ experience. It is about being honest in a compassionate way. It is about being willing to stand up for what we think and being willing to admit when we are wrong. Those of us who are white: can we not at least give that to our minority neighbors?