Realizing the powerLESS role of my whiteness

Today, I had an eye-opening conversation with a friend and colleague—a woman of color, single mother, immigrant turned U.S. citizen, and new to what we call “formal” leadership. She spoke of her powerlessness, of feeling stripped of her strength, reduced to parts that others find useful, discarded when no longer needed.

Bear with me as I dive into a metaphor. Picture a Thanksgiving turkey. Some prefer the thighs, others will only touch the breast meat from the left side, but the carcass—the bones and structure that carried the turkey through its life—is almost always discarded when the meal is finished.

That carcass is what the turkey was before it ended up on our table, before we picked it apart to satisfy our fleeting desires. The essence of the turkey, its life, its journey, reduced to scraps we throw away without a second thought.

I won’t martyr myself by claiming to use every inch of that turkey, bones, carcass, and all. No, I often discard it as fast as I can—seeing the remnants of an animal’s shell makes me uncomfortable.

I’m not an ethical meat eater. I wave and moo at cows in the field, refusing to believe they’re the same creatures I find in the packaged meat section, destined for my summer cheeseburgers. But I do recognize the purpose of the whole turkey, from before it hit my plate to after. And I know I’m guilty of using only the parts I like, discarding what makes me uncomfortable, what I’d rather not confront.

Now that we’re all thinking about mashed potatoes and gravy (and perhaps realizing the plight of vegetarians), let me return to that raw, frightening conversation. My friend, in her bravery, shared her feelings of powerlessness with someone who, by all accounts, belongs to the very group stripping away her power. It dawned on me that my power needs to become powerLESS.

I mentioned earlier that my friend is new to “formal” leadership. But her leadership is only “formal” in the context of white leadership. She has always been a powerful leader within and for her communities. Yet, she is often burdened with being the sole voice for her community.

Why?

As a white woman in leadership, I would never be expected to be the “voice” for all white
women in leadership. Can you, the reader, think of a single person who could be called the voice of the white community?

We, as white folks, are privileged by the nuance and filtration of our communities. White women, white youth, white business leaders, white nonprofiteers, white republicans, white democrats, white soccer lovers, white cilantro haters—each subgroup with its own voice.

But when it comes to people of color, especially women of color, we lump them together, expecting one person to speak for all. And it’s usually someone who has learned to assimilate into our whiteness, doing the unpaid, expected labor of speaking for their entire community.

But when it’s time to allocate resources, create permanent space, or hold the mirror up to ourselves, we start stripping our turkey again, using only the pieces we need in that moment. The rest is thrown out, frozen for later, or left to rot in the back of the fridge.

This conversation with my friend made me realize that as a white woman with power, I am inherently guilty of stripping my sisters of color for the parts I most need when I need them. We expect our sisters of color to build relationships and “report back” on what their communities need.

But have we ever tried to create that community ourselves? Usually, no.

Yet, when it’s time to secure funding, we parade those collected stories, data, and insights as if they’re our own. We say thank you to my friend for doing the work, and then keep the riches to disperse at our will, under the guise of “helping them manage.” We take what we need and discard what doesn’t serve us.

The powerLESSness of whiteness requires us to sit down, shut up, and be less—for once. To lessen our power so we can elevate the power of those who have been deemed lesser in the white context of our lives. It’s not just about listening sessions or DEI classes—it’s about genuinely lessening the power we hold.

This isn’t a call for symbolic gestures or performative allyship. It’s a call to recognize that our voices have dominated the conversation for far too long, often drowning out the voices that need to be heard most. It’s about stepping back and creating space—real, meaningful space—where the voices of women of color, like my friend, can not only be heard but can lead without the shadow of whiteness looming over them.

My friend is a POWERFUL woman of color, a POWERFUL mother raising her children, a
POWERFUL navigator of bureaucracy, a POWERFUL leader. She possesses a power that I will never have—a power rooted in resilience, in a history of survival against the odds, in a depth of experience that I can only begin to comprehend. Her power doesn’t need to be validated by me or by any white gaze. It exists on its own terms, in its own right.

My friend’s power is hers alone, and it’s time I stop assuming that, as white folks, we have any role in shaping or defining it. My role is to witness, support, and stand alongside her in solidarity—not as a savior, but to ask, “Do you need me to listen in silence? Do you need me to use my voice to amplify yours? Do you need me to fight and shield you from the blows?”

To be powerLESS is to grasp that true power isn’t about control; It’s about the realization that my power has always been borrowed, built on the backs of those like my friend who were never given the chance to claim their own.

To be powerLESS is to be free from the illusion of supremacy and to find strength in the power of others. It is to watch my friend become powerFULL.

Cato Lawson Kraft (she/her) is your typical millennial who loves a good avocado toast with a heaping side of equal rights. She sees “EP” as standing for “Every Person” and understands that embracing our roles in ongoing inequity is tough, often because it’s unintentional. Committed to being her best self while accepting the inevitable fumbles, Cato is passionate about harnessing collective power of ALL to drive real, transformative change.