When we, as white activists, talk about racial justice organizing, I think we should be engaging with it in terms of an anti-racist praxis. By this, I mean not simply a particular analysis or a specific kind of action, but, rather, a mode and quality of attention that infuses all of our work: a consciousness that highlights the ways in which power and privilege fundamentally shape, enable, and constrain who we are and what we do. And I don't mean this in some kind of lofty, detached way. Praxis, in my experience, is about constant reflection and action, always mutually informing each other. It's about attentive action and active attention.

One of the most helpful tools that I've been able to find in developing an anti-racist praxis is listening. In concrete terms, listening is about acknowledging that we don't have all of the answers and that, in fact, folks who experience the brunt of racialized forms of oppression frequently know best how to wage struggles for racial justice. To listen in this way involves checking the space that we (particularly men) often take up, watching for our own defensiveness, and actively engaging with what we hear. Importantly, this kind of listening means not expecting that it is the responsibility of people of color to "fill" us with knowledge. Instead, we have to learn to ask questions collaboratively, seek answers, and act reflectively. In other words, we have to put ourselves--and what we think we know--at risk. A key part of this is recognizing that the political priorities we take for granted aren't everybody's; that is, priorities are raced, classed, and gendered. Listening is thus about recognizing other people's priorities--in both the sense of being able to notice them and in the sense of taking them seriously. In the end, building an anti-racist praxis--and for that matter, radical multiracial anti-racist movements--calls on us to foster these habits of being, among others.