The Curiosity Shop with Brené Brown and Adam Grant - Brené with Emmanuel Acho on Uncomfortable Conversations with a Black Man

Episode Date: March 15, 2021

This week, Dare to Lead is Unlocking Us! Emmanuel Acho is a creator, host, and producer of Uncomfortable Conversations with a Black Man, a web series about racism to drive open and uncomfortable dialogue. His book with the same name is a thoughtful manifesto, a mandate, and a playbook that’s both generous and full of love. We get personal, and we talk about what these important questions mean in the context of history and for culture today. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Hey everyone, this is Brunay, a special episode for you here this week. It's an Unlockiness episode. You may know that Unlockiness is my other podcast where we have conversations that really unlock kind of the human part of us, how we live, how we love, parent, connect with each other, and how we can do it with more courage and heart. Unlockingness runs every Wednesday, free for everybody. I hope you enjoy this bonus episode of Unlocking us and that you'll join us on Wednesdays. We have amazing gas planned all the way through the end of the summer at this point. So I will see you both here on Darede Lead and hopefully over on Unlocking Us. Hi, everyone. I'm Brené Brown and this is Unlocking Us. I'm so excited about this episode.

I am talking with Emmanuel Acho, who is the host and producer of uncomfortable conversations with a black man. It's a web series about racism. It's just basically a human conversation that is open and uncomfortable and urgent and necessary. He has released an incredible book with the same name, Uncomfortable Conversations with a Black Man. This book is a manifesto, a mandate, a playbook. It's generous. It's full of love. It's got incredible stories in it. He takes on just random questions from white folks. I mean, just any question that he hears over and over, he takes it on. He gives us a historical understanding of the question, the answer. He asks us to get uncomfortable with him as he delves into what it means for culture today. And he invites us to walk the

talk about our beliefs. It really is just smart, important, and real answers for real questions. I don't know if you know this about Emmanuel Acho, but he is also a Fox Sports analyst. and former NFL player and former Longhorn from the University of Texas. So you will hear all about his incredible book, Uncomfortable Conversations with a Black Man. We'll dig into that. And I might even sneak in a question about the 2021-22 UT football season. What a powerful learning, unlearning, and relearning episode. I'm glad you're here with us today. Thank you. In June 2020, Emmanuel Acho launched a video series titled Uncomfortable Conversations with a Black Man, which opened a virtual conversation with white America about race, racism, and educational and economic inequality.

The series has been a huge success, debuting with over 22 million views across social media platforms, and garnering widespread media coverage. On November 10th, Emmanuel's book, Uncomfortable Conversations with a Black Man, launched. It's found its way onto the New York Times bestseller list where it still is comfortably sitting, which is a book we all need. Let me tell you a little bit about Emmanuel. After earning his undergraduate degree in sports management in 2012, he was drafted by the Cleveland Browns. He was then traded to the Philadelphia Eagles in 2013, where he spent most of his career. While in the NFL, Emmanuel spent off-seasons at the University of Texas in Austin to earn his master's degree in

sport psychology. In 2016, he left the football field and picked up the microphone to begin his broadcast career. In 2018, Emmanuel was promoted within ESPN, where he served as the youngest national football analyst and was named a 2018 Forbes 30 Under 30. In 2017, he and his family's nonprofit organization, Living Hope Christian Ministries, raised enough funds to build a hospital in rural Nigeria. Let's jump into this conversation. So welcome to unlocking us, Emmanuel. I'm so excited to have this conversation.

Renee, it's been far too long. Like I said, before you started recording, we run in the same circles, went to the same university, both bleed burnt orange-ish. So it is great to finally connect with you. I'm honored. I genuinely, I'm honored. I feel the same way. And I got to tell you, let me tell you what uncomfortable conversations with the

black man has meant to me. I have a call in to my son's school that I will help pay for everyone to get this book. I just want to dig in. Can we dig in? Can we have a question? I only have one question. That's it. If I may. What? When did you first see either the book or an episode and how? I'm always very intrigued because this was just little old me that recorded something by myself in a room. The next thing you know, I'm getting calls from, you know, McConaughey, Oprah. And now I'm talking to Bray Brown. So how did you first hear about the book or see an episode, if you recall? I think I follow you and your brother on social. That's popular. Yeah. And I think that's the first thing I saw was the video in the very early

stages. So I've been a follower from the beginning. And I said a couple times, this should be a book. This should be a book. I love it. This is a book. And now it is a book. Now it's a book. And it's not just a book. It's somewhere between a manifesto, a mandate, and a playbook. And it kind of oozes love and generosity and it's really different. You're really different. Thank you. I'm going to ask you my first big question. Tell me your story. That is a huge question. It is. I don't like answering questions with questions. So I'm going to answer the question of tell me your story. in the way in which I interpreted it, rather than making you, like, tell me, okay, what do you mean by tell me your story? All right.

Emmanuel Acho's story. Emmanuel is the son of Nigerian immigrants. Emmanuel was born and raised in Dallas, Texas, and I went to this affluent all-white private school growing up. It's called St. Mark School of Texas. All-boy school had to wear uniform, gray slacks, white button downs. I was extremely awkward. I was never in class with girls, was never in class with women until I went to the University of Texas. So imagine me going from a classroom of 15 people, all guys wearing uniform, to a class of like 300 people, women included.

I was awkward. So at Finkmark School of Texas, you're supposed to be like a national merit scholar. There was a kid in my class who literally scored a perfect on the SAT and the ACT. Meanwhile, there's like little old me. A person the great above me won the National Spelling Bee. His winning word was poco Carante. His name, Saigantari. So true story.

I remember all of this. And so now there's me at this school with a bunch of super geniuses, but I was six to two, 240 pounds. So I was like, you know what? I guess I'll play football. Interesting thing. I've realized and then didn't realize the difference between color and culture. You'll understand the tie here in a second. See, I'm black by skin color, but cultured I was Nigerian.

I grew up eating rice and stew, grew up eating goat meat, grew up eating different type of rice dishes, black by skin colored but Nigerian by culture. Then I remember I went to a predominantly white school. So I was white by culture. I had a huge identity crisis. Because in middle school, I would often hear Emmanuel, you're not even black.

Or Emmanuel, you don't talk like you're black or Brene my favorite. Emmanuel, you're like an Oreo. Black on the outside, white on the inside. Because I guess I sounded too educated to be what my white colleagues perceived as black. And so I was like, I mean, maybe I'm

that black, I guess. I mean, my skin's pretty dark, but I don't know. They're telling me I'm not black. Maybe I'm not black. So now I go to the University of Texas and am immersed in black culture because I'm playing on the football team. This was back when Texas was good, by the way. Now, let's hope that they're good again soon.

I'm in Texas, immersed, fully immersed in black culture. And it was weird, Renee, because I get there. I'm like, yo, these are my people. It was kind of like this awakening moment. Play at the University of Texas, get my undergrad degree in. sports management, go to the NFL, drafted to the Cleveland Browns, get my graduate degree, my master's degree while in the NFL in sports psychology, still at the University of Texas. Leave the NFL after four years and end up hosting my own show.

Fox speaks for yourself four years later, which is last year, write a book, uncomfortable conversations with the black man, and now I'm talking to Bray Brown. The end. Okay, I want to unpack some of this. So when you were at St. Marks, did you have to do a little bit of? a lot of shifting. We are parents, strict, conservative. Golly. Do you know Nigerians per night? I do. You must be a doctor. You must be a lawyer. You must be an engineer. Like, you must be a doctor, lawyer, engineer. There is no other profession. My parents, it's like, you can't date

until you get married. Like, strict is an understatement. Like, I don't even know curfew. You don't, because there's no curfew because you're not allowed to leave. What do you mean, leave? You don't need a curfew if you don't leave the house. Oh, man, my parents were extremely strict. My dad had his doctorate in psychology and as a marital counselor while also being a pastor. And my mom has her doctorate and nurse practitioner. So education was huge in our household. So grew up in an extremely strict household.

Now, to your point and questioned of shifting, the other term that people use is code switching, right? Yes. Acting one way to somebody acting. acting another way to another. I didn't really code switch when I was younger because I'm more so gravitated to my environment, right? Again, I was black, but I was white cultured. And so I really just acted very white cultured. I hate Renee when people say, oh, he's black, but he acts white. Because what's that mean? Or, oh, he's white, but he acts black. Because what's that mean? Let's break down what you're trying to say.

They act white cultured. So I really acted very white cultured. And the only time I had to switch is when I was in my Nigerian environments in which my Nigerian culture would come out. But I do way more code switching as an adult than I ever did as a youth. Wow. There's a wonderful book called Shifting. And it's about black women in America and how exhausting it is to constantly be assessing

your environment, adapting to the environment. and then the systemic racism that underlies all of the need for code switching and shifting. So when I was reading about you growing up, I thought, man, you were like trilingual. Like you really moved in and out. Were your parents, what role did religion play in your family growing up? Everything. I think that, well, first off, the reason I started my uncomfortable conversations with a black man series, I think the reason it resonates and permeates is because I understand,

And, Renee, we have to do a better job collectively of speaking truth with grace and with love. And I understood that based upon my relationship with Jesus growing up in the church is, Renee, if we only speak truth without any grace or love, it's honest, but it's so harsh it can't be digested. It's like having a meal with too much salt on it. It's just too harsh. If you only speak with love and grace but no truth, then it's superfluous. It's almost like meaningless nothings. Like, yeah, that sounded sweet, but there's no depth to it.

We have to, and I realize, just based on my own experience, and I believe that your experience is your expertise, based on my experience growing up in the church, is trying to figure out how to speak with truth and grace, but having the omnipresent and ever-present love, always abiding at all times. So that's really the role I would say my faith played. I don't really love religion.

I don't love that concept of religion because we've taken religion in America and made it mean so many things. For me, it's all about relationship. Like, what is your relationship with God? What is your relationship with Christ? Who do you call God? Who is God to you? Because as soon as you start talking about religion, that gets really weird based upon, like, the history of Europe and religion in Europe, the history of America and religion in America. For me, it's all relationship-based.

Tell me about arriving in Austin at U.S. Where did you live? Did you live in the dorm with the players? So my brother is one year older, for those listening and who will listen, my brother, Sam Macho, he was one year older than me, also went to St. Marks, also went to Texas, went to the NFL one year before me. So when I got to Texas, he had already laid a blueprint. I lived in the dorm for one year until he moved off as a junior into off campus housing. So Matt Brown, the head coach at the time, college football Hall of Fame, he kind of pardoned the two-year rule so I could go live with my brother. brother. But Texas was an eye-opener. I mean, remember, I didn't go out in high school. I went to an all-boy school. And so I'm on campus now, like, wait a second. They have long hair. Wait a second. These classrooms are gigantic. It was a crazy eye-opening experience for me.

But I adjusted and adapted quickly. Did your brother look after you? Definitely, definitely. But more than looking after me with words, he looked after me with action. and so he, I believe that like your action speaks so loud, I can't hear what you're telling me. And so he won the academic heisman, smartest player in college football, double major at McComb's business school, which is held in high esteem, again, for those listening, drafted in the fourth round, all while maintaining like a 3.6 GPA. So he set the bar so high that even if I got close to the bar, I would end up in good territory. And so that's really how he looked after me indirectly.

By example. Exactly. It's beautiful. Tell me the birth story of uncomfortable conversations with a black man. The question of the hour. Tell me how you breathe life into this. Tell me where it came from. Because it is you, I will give you all the hidden details that I rarely express.

And I didn't even express in my first book, but one day I will probably share. So let's go back to the end of May 2020. I, a black man, have just seen someone who looks like me, George Floyd, a black man, be murdered by police. And so, Renee, I was heartbroken. I was devastated. I was an utter dismay. I'm walking around my house, two-story in Austin, Texas, and I'm like, I don't know what to do. I don't know how to feel.

Should I cry? Should I scream? Should I sleep? I don't know what to do. But, Bray, the sports in me has. taught me a manual, don't complain about a problem unless you're going to submit a solution. See, Bray, if I realize, after looking in the mirror, oh, I don't like my physique, well, guess what? I'm going to go work out because I'm not going to complain about a problem unless I can figure out a

solution. So I said, this is what I'm going to do, Renee Brown. I realize the disconnect in our society is there's a language barrier. And how did I realize that? Because I grew up with all white people. And then I spent my adulthood with predominantly black people. And although we all speak English in America, that English is translated differently based upon the culture you grew up in. After George Floyd was murdered, I go to my white friend's house, Brogan, Russell, Brandon Ashley, two couples that live next door to each other. Before walking into their house, I had to gather myself, Wusa, I said, because I was very upset. I was very angry. I walked in there like, Amanda, what's going on? I said, sit down and we've got to talk. They said, you're okay? I said, no,

I'm not. Why do white people, police officers, why do they still feel as though black people are threats, even if they're not threatening in the moment? They were like, what do you mean? I would started talking about George Floyd. They said, well, Emmanuel, what's the solution? I said this, Brayne. I said, we have to expose my white brothers and sisters to more black people. Proximity breeds care. Distance breeds fear. We have to expose my white brothers and sisters to more black people. My white friend, he said this, dear friend of mine, I've known him for 10 years. He said, well, Emmanuel, how? He's a religious man. I said, you can go to black church. This is when I realized I had to have conversations because his response, Brenet, he said, I thought black church was your thing. I said, this is it. Because this is a white friend of mine who I've known for 10 years. We've gone to church together. We've gone to church separate locations. And he didn't realize the jurisdictions or lack thereof of of black spaces. So I said, we got to have conversations. I said, black church isn't my thing. I went to a church in Austin, a predominantly white church

called Austin Stone. I said, I go to white church all the time. He said, that's not white church. But I said this, I said, to you, it's not white church because you're white. See, to you, America isn't white because you're white. So when you walk outside, everything you see typically reflects you back to you. But when I walk to a restaurant, a nice restaurant, a five-star steakhouse, all look around trying to find other black people just to be like, man, I'm glad you made it too. When I walk in the church, I'll look around for the black people just be like, huh, it's good to see you here. I wonder what brought you. So after that, Renee, I said, okay, I got to have conversations because there's a language disconnect. I said this, I'm going to get three white people together, three black people together. We're going to

sit around a table. We're going to have a fishbowl that's going to have questions in them. The white people are going to pull out the question, read it, and let the black people and the white people discuss. Problem, Breda, we're in the middle of a pandemic and you can't get people together. And so my friends were like, hey, I love the idea, but I'm in Dallas, I'm in Miami, I'm in Austin, I can't travel. I said, okay, I'll do it myself. This is where things get interesting. Uncomfortable conversations with the black man. That is the title. It is not uncomfortable monologue with a black man. The first episode was never to be recorded by myself. I called the sweet friend. She was going to drive down from Dallas to Austin to Austin to

Austin to state 35 straight shot to record it with me. We rehearsed it for 24 hours. We went, we got Thai food. We rehearsed it in front of her mother, who's a sweet history teacher. But over the course of the night, she had a change of heart. And she just realized, you know what, maybe she shouldn't do it. So I wake up the next day, an hour, two minutes per day, before I'm supposed to be in studio, 11 a.m. on Sunday. It's now 9.58. And she has tears in her eyes. Emmanuel, I can't do it. It's not right.

I just, they don't want to see me. They want to see you. I'm pleading with her. Like, no, no, no, no, no. I haven't rehearsed this by myself. Like, I desperately need you. We don't even need to dress up, no makeup, but just I need you. It's not right.

It's not right. I said, okay, I'll do it by myself. That's why in episode number one, I asked the question and then I answer the question because I was never supposed to ask the question. Last little tidbit, which I don't tell often, is I'm walking in, As I'm walking into the door at 1048 a.m. Remember, call time was 11 a.m. for me to record this. I get a text on my phone. With my left hand, I checked my text with my right hand. I opened the door. It was a friend of mine, a black friend of mine. She says, Emmanuel, I really don't like this idea that you're going to do. White people didn't educate black people as to how to assimilate into white culture. Why do we need to educate white people how to assimilate into our culture? I simply responded, I'm going to go as God leads. I'm inside this all white. room with my best friend in Olympic gold medalist. Her name is Morla Kay and a videographer. A wedding videographer, people. This was not like some high definition project. This is a wedding videographer.

It is three of us. Videographer, his wife, my best friend, Olympic gold medalist. True story, Bray Brown. I put my head down. I count down from three. I say three, two. And at one, I open up my eyes. I stare into the lens of the camera. And for nine minutes, 27 seconds, we do not cut the camera. It was not edited. It was not fixed. It was not critiqued. It was nothing. After that, I post the video the next day. And within five days, we have 27 million views and uncomfortable conversations with the black man begin. Wow. I want to ask you about a theme that I saw throughout the book that starts with this story, actually. A story of sometimes aloneness and isolation in this work and then a story of resilience in pursuing anyway, despite rising.

and walking alone sometimes when you have to. Have you had that experience? Absolutely. Now, that will be my next book, which has not been written yet, but yes. And in my mind, I am very aware of two concepts. One concept is a concept of even when everybody else kind of leaves you, you got to go anyway. Like if you are convicted about a message, if you're convicted about a word. If you're convicted about a movement or a moment, go with your conviction. You have to understand. After my friend had her change of heart overnight, I was scared. I did not eat breakfast that morning because I was so nervous. She had a change of heart. I texted another one of my white friends. I said, hey, can you please come do this with me? I just need you to sit here and ask questions.

She's like, my two-year-old daughter is teething. I can't do it. I'm like, oh, I got to do it myself. Now, Renee, after I still have the confidence to move past that, I'm walking into the building, and now my black friend texts me out of the blue. Hadn't talked to her in a week since I originally told her out of the idea and says, hey, I don't think you should do it. Now I'm getting deterred every which way, but I said, you know what, I have to do it. This isn't a matter of me. This is bigger than me. This moment is bigger than me. These words are bigger than Emmanuel Acho. There is a language barrier. Our problem is. communication and lack thereof and lack of understanding. And so I had to speak. Yeah, bigger than you.

Absolutely. All right. You take on some really tough questions in this book. You talk a lot about the power of language. You take on questions like, do we use the term black or African American, implicit bias, white privilege, cultural appropriation, angry black men, the inward, the inward in music. And why do I have to not say it when my black friend's saying it and the black artist is singing it, systemic racism, reverse racism, which is such a weird concept. I want to talk to you about a couple of these topics. But before we jump in, what has been the most difficult thing about hearing the questions? Has it been painful and hard?

The most difficult and the most painful, I was doing a show with our mutual friend, Oprah, for an Oprah conversation for Apple TV. And I'm sitting there. and I'm answering questions from 10 different people, just rapid fire, non-rehearsed, I don't know what they're going to ask, I don't have a prepped answer. One person chose not to be on camera, Renee, because of the question they were going to ask. Red flag. Red flag already. They said, Emmanuel, the Holocaust was both more recent and more deadly than slavery, but Jewish people have managed to recover.

How come black people can't recover? Oh. And mind you, I'm sitting there. So the second time I'm now talking to Oprah, because the first time was via FaceTime. This is now kind of a live format. And I have to kind of guard my reaction because I was like, what in the world?

That was difficult to hear because of the ignorance that was interwoven in that question. I think that's a very ignorant question. Now, I was glad it was asked because the only way we can get past our ignorance, the only way we can get past our naivety is if we have these conversations, as uncomfortable as they may be.

And so I submitted my answer in very simply, it is easier to judge someone based off their skin color than it is to judge someone based off of a belief. Right? And now obviously the Holocaust was way more complicated than just a belief system. the whole blonde hair, blue eyes, being extremely supreme, et cetera. But in America in 2021, you can look at somebody just off their skin color from a hundred yards

away and be like, oh, they're black and judge them before you ever know what it is that they believe or what it is that they stand for, before you ever know their sexual orientation, before you ever know anything else. And so we still judge based off the easiest thing that is to judge, which is skin color, simple replied. But that was a, toughest thing that I've had to hear up until this point. You know, it's painful, too, about that question for me is how ultimately comparative suffering only benefits white supremacy. Do you always keep your cool? Absolutely. No, really. I mean, do you really? Like, you never lose your stuff? No, I don't have that luxury. See, this is what's funny. And I'm glad you asked that question so

genuinely, Renee, I'm 6-2-240 pounds and I'm black. I don't have. I don't have that luxury. I don't have the luxury of getting mad. No. You know what I mean? I was telling people the other day, I said, when I'm cold walking outside, Renee, I don't have the luxury of putting my hood on. Because to be a black man wearing the hood is to be perceived as a threat, George Zimmerman, Trayvon Martin, George Zimmerman and Trayvon Martin. Society has told me that I don't necessarily have certain luxuries that other people have. And so I wrote a whole chapter, which you've already talked about, the mythical me, the angry black man. I don't have the luxury of getting upset, Even when I'm mad, because it's what is called the Pygmalion effect. And I studied this in psychology. All it is is self-fulfilling prophecy, Renee. White person looks at Emmanuel Lacho, six to two, two hundred forty-pound black man. So white person believes that Emmanuel Lacho is going to be angry. So Emmanuel Lachio is now acts in a manner that can be perceived as angry. White person looks at Emmanuel, who she already believed to be angry and says, see, I told you so. And the process is cyclical. Oh, yeah. It's a Pygmalion effect, self-filling prophecy. So I don't have the love.

luxury of getting mad. And so I just take a beat, pause, smile, and answer the question. Yeah, because we're walking down Gwad in Austin, right? And you're coming toward me. And you're in a great mood. You're walking to get some food somewhere. And I move over. I clutch my purse. I pull my daughter in a little bit closer to me. You respond with hurt that shows up, you know, and then I say, look, see, hostile. Exactly. Exactly. And because that's so ingrained in us, even now, Brunay, I'll be very honest,

first time saying this, COVID has been tough for a few reasons because I might try to work out outside before L.A. had crazy restrictions. And oftentimes, one, the world is just more predominantly white, particularly where I live. So I'm seeing more white people. They'll run in different directions or run off the curve or run off the grid. or run off the grass. And while it may be because, you know, well, he's coming towards me, even though, you know, I was six feet away,

a part of me still feels the hurt of I'm black. And so they're moving because you're a threat, not because of COVID, but just because of fear. So because the way in which my brain has been wired based upon my experience, I've caught myself three to four times over the last few months just being like, honest, I'll be real. I'll be very honest with you. I want to turn around and ask, hey, why did you do that?

Yeah. I can't. But I genuinely want to turn around and ask and be like, look, I was eight feet away from you. Why did you be line left? Is it because of COVID or is it be? Anyway, I'm not going to go there. But it's just, it's very hard. It can be hard to exist at times as a black individual, regardless of money, regardless

of fame, because your blackness will trump that. Yeah. You know, you say you don't have the luxury, and I think that will define that luxury as humanity. Like, what is the cost of denying people humanity? That's humanity. And I think it is, I'm sure, compounded by the fact that you're a big guy. Yeah. Exactly right. First of all, I have to say, your format of you take a question, then you say, let's rewind and you look at history. You say, let's get uncomfortable. You talk, real talk around what's happening there, and then talk it, walk it, put it into action. Talk and walk it. Man, I love this format. History teachers must be like, thank you. I mean, like, you give us history.

So I want to talk about, and I'll tell you why in a minute, but let's start here, your chapter on implicit bias. Here's my well-loved and worn book. This was a question that came in from Patrick. What are some of the best ways to find and get rid of your impolcise? implicit bias. The chapter is called, what do you see when you see me? Very much what we were just talking about, right? And you start with a story about Google's rollout of its photos app program. How crazy is that, by the way? Tell us the story. I believe it was 2015, Google rolled out this photo application and it would group individuals based upon essentially like a face scan. But the problem was

their photo application was mislabeling black people as guerrillas. And so they hired the engineers and they went to try to search the functioning and the programming of the system, but they couldn't figure out why it kept mislabeling black people as guerrillas. So they removed the gorilla label altogether. And that just made me wonder, Brunay, like, wait, why didn't it label white people as panda bears? Right? Like, how come only black people are dealing with that kind of thing? And it's just based upon programming bias and it's a society we live in.

But that's just so mind blowing that there was literally a photo application misidentifying black people as guerrillas. Yeah, the reason why I want to ask you about this about implicit bias, because I work in a lot of companies, Fortune 100 companies doing leadership work. And what I hear over and over is really scaring me. What I'm hearing is data don't lie, people lie. And algorithms are the answer to anti-racism. But I keep saying, but people program algorithms. Yeah. And if we don't recognize the implicit bias in the developers and the programmers of the algorithm,

the only thing the algorithm will do is scale racism and gender and everything else. Like bias and racism aren't scientific and they're not mathematical. And so we can't get to a sum of zero based on some sort of calculation because racism and bias are typically emotional. And that's the issue and the problem at hand. The other thing that was so baffling to me, it wasn't until somebody shared a section of my book that my white friends didn't realize bandades. Band-aids match white flesh. Band-aids don't match my flesh. And so the world we live in is just predicated upon bias, if you will.

And it's not because a Band-Aid is racist. It's not because a Band-Aid is sexist. It's not because a Band-Aid has a-But who created and why did they create and who did they create it for? That's the kicker. Who is this created for? That's why companies struggle. That's why marketing campaigns, Bernays. struggle. That's why social media managers struggle because they're putting out a tweet,

but who were they putting out the tweet for? And what lens is this campaign being created through? Who were these band-aids created with mind of? This Google photo application, who was in mind when it was being created? And that's some of the issue. Who are we serving? Exactly. I love, you start the chapters, not only with these amazing chapter titles, but also with quotes. And I think it's Nathan Rutstein, Rutstein. Prejudice is an emotional commitment to ignorance. Yikes. Man, that's so good. Okay. This is a question from Tracy. My question is about the term reverse racism. It seems to me that it's an oxymoron. Isn't racism just racism, whether it's white people, hating black people, black people hating Latinos,

hating Asians, Asians, hating white people, hate based on skin color or nationality. It's just hate, isn't that racism? Like this whole idea of reverse racism. Like, tell us how you walk folks through this. Well, first off, I have to say and submit that reverse racism is not real. Racism is racism.

Now, individuals can be racist, but in order for groups at large, for racism to exist amongst groups at large, I submit that there are three primary components. Power, privilege, and prejudice. Power, privilege, and prejudice. And in America, black people collectively, they do not have all three.

Black people can for sure be prejudiced, no doubt about it. Some black people can definitely have privilege, but their privilege is not because they are black. I'm sure we will get to that later. But collectively, black people don't have no power in this country, Not collectively. An individual black person may have some power, but the group at large, black people don't have power, privilege, and prejudice. The example I submit in my book, when I was playing in the NFL for the Philadelphia Eagles, there was a huge six, four,

300-pound defensive linemen, and for whatever reason he would bully me. He'd make fun of me, Brunay, for this, he'd make fun of me for that. Then one day after practice, I just looked at him, and I said, you were the worst teammate in the history of teammates. And he just looked at me, and he shut up. And think of how silly it would be to say, well, Emmanuel, that's being a reverse bully. In the same manner, reverse racism just doesn't exist. People say, well, how come black people get a black history month, but white people don't get a white history month? Every month is white history month. Because in America, we have always celebrated white culture, white accomplishments, white things.

And black people, we've never truly esteemed black accomplishments. Barack Obama was a president. The reason he was the first black president was because we ain't never had no black presidents. Kamala Harris is a vice president. The reason she is the first black woman, first woman, first black person to be vice president, is because we never had no black vice presidents. And so we have to shine a light on our firsts because this country has never done so. Can I tell you a story from UT that I think we just, yeah.

So I took a course. I wonder if you took this course. I took a course from Dr. Ruth McCoy. She taught a class called the Black family. And I couldn't wait to take this course. And she very probably the number one expert in the world on transracial adoption, open versus closed adoption. I ended up doing research for her for a semester. That's where I fell in love with qualitative research. Well, I walk into this classroom and it's probably 90% black student. taking this class on the black family. And I'm there and I see a couple of my social work friends and I go sit with them. One's black. One's Latina. And we're talking. And then here comes Ruth McCroy. She's got a suit on. She's just like everyone knows about her. And 10 minutes after a class starts, this white student comes in, excuse me, excuse me, like walks right in front of Dr. McCroy while she's talking and then finds a seat right next to me. And I'm like, oh, God, don't sit here. I'm going to mean, just like, no, no, no, no, don't sit here. And Dr. McCroy's like going over the syllabus, and this woman raises her hand. And she says, I've got a question, is this class racist just based

on its existence? And I just remember Dr. McCroy was like, say more. And she said, well, what if I offered a class at UT called the White family? And Dr. McCroy said, interesting. Well, I'll tell you, there's 64 classes on the family at the University of Texas at Austin. Unless it says black in the title, it's about the white family. I was like, and there you have it. It's the privilege of invisibility. And I remember going home that night, and remember when we used to get, well, I'm older than you by a ton, but we used to get like a big printout of all the courses. And I remember going through that week of all the courses. And it's like, of course all the research in these family courses are going to be done on white families. Of

course all the studies are going to be about white families. And you know, it's such a powerful thing to know that when the descriptor is missing, it defaults to the majority culture. Correct. If you and I were doing a qualitative research study together on these questions, what would be the theme or pattern that we would be able to identify? What would we see? The primary thing that we would see is the complication or confusion around white privilege. we would see that a ton. Say more about that. There is such a visceral response to that word privilege.

Because when people hear privilege, they assume that they didn't work for what they got. And people assume to hear white privileges to hear that, well, your life hasn't been hard. And to that I very much so submit that white privilege isn't saying your life hasn't been hard. It's just saying your skin color hasn't contributed to the difficulty of your life. As a white person, surely your life has been hard because life is hard, but your whiteness isn't what has made your life any more difficult. Whereas as a black person, your blackness has contributed to that difficulty. I offer this example, Renee, I recently received a celebrity card to go to a restaurant. And whenever you go to this restaurant, because of your celebrity card,

you can eat there for free. It's amazing. Order whatever you want. You swipe the card and eat it for free. That's amazing. It's great. It's fantastic. Because of my celebrity privilege, I have this card. Because all privilege is is immunity from certain punishment or special access granted to certain things. So because of my celebrity privilege, I have a card that grants me access to eat here for free. I don't feel guilty about being a celebrity in some's eyes. The issue is, what do I do with that privilege? Renee, on the back of the celebrity card, in fine print, it says, you are allowed to throw a party for up to 100 people once a year with this card. So what I did, I threw it for the homeless. I would hit up a Salvation Army shelter or in Philadelphia,

I threw it for the homeless. Now, that's not toot my own horn. That's to say this. To those that have privilege, my white brothers and sisters, don't feel guilty about being white. That is dumb. So I say, use your privilege for the benefit of those that don't have it, that don't have the same privilege. That's what I do with mine. And so when we talk about that through line of the questions of white privilege and privilege, I say, look, I have celebrity privilege at times. You can have CEO privilege. You can have able-bodied privilege.

When I was hurt playing in the NFL, I had to figure out, okay, is there going to be an elevator? Is there going to be an escalator? Are there going to be stairs? Is there a ramp? Because I didn't have able-bodied privilege at that time. So so many of us have able-bodied privilege as well. We don't have to calculate if there are going to be a stairs versus a ramp, an elevator versus an escalator. We just live our lives.

And that is the biggest thing on and about white privilege that I so desperately want people to understand. Don't feel guilty. Do something with it. First of all, can I just say an amen? I mean, just so good and so clear. Like your whole book is good and clear. Wow, does shame and guilt get in the way of good work? Yes or no? Like the shame people feel about privilege gets in the way, actually of people owning it and doing something productive with it. Correct. And we have to realize shame and guilt typically lead to denial. And I've said this before, I'll say it again. Denial, I use the acronym. Denial spelled DENI-A-L don't even know I am lying. Right. And so many people don't make your life. That is so good.

Oh my God. Wait. I've been sober for 25 years and no one said that in one of the 12-step rooms. Wait, you got to, I mean, come on. You like, dang, this is a moment, a learning moment. Wait, say it again? Denial, D-E-N-I-A-L, don't even know, obviously play on words there. I am lying. Don't even know I am lying. And you can't fix a problem, Renee, you don't know exists.

That's what people have to realize. You can't fix a problem you don't admit exists. as long as we stay in denial about our privilege because of guilt or denial about our privilege because of shame, we can't fix the problem. So that's why I've always said guilt doesn't cause you to change. Love does. Do your actions out of love, not out of guilt. I fed the homeless out of love. I didn't feel the homeless is like, oh, man, I get another free restaurant. I get another free meal. Oh, I hate this. No, it was like, you know what? I've been blessed. Let me be a blessing. My team and I have read through the book a couple of times.

Have you been on the receiving end of any criticism from black colleagues or black friends around, look, we don't need to take responsibility for this teaching. This is not our emotional labor. Like, you know, almost the text like the text you received walking in that first day. If you want to avoid criticism, you have to say nothing, do nothing, and be doing. Yeah. Aristotle. And so obviously, like you. over the course of your career, I have received

a ton, not tons, but a fair amount of criticism. Yeah. My criticism, though, is primarily a man you'll stop pandering to white people. These white people don't care about you. These white people will never care about us. Stop begging white people for help. My first episode, Renee, I say,

if white people are the problem, white people must be a part of the solution. Stop begging white people for help. You sound pathetic, begging a white man for help, this, that, and the third. And to that, I'm just saying, Like, look, if somebody has their foot on your neck, you've got to find a way to get their foot off your neck.

So you can ask them to? You can try to resort to violence. But one way or another, you have to find a way to get their foot off of your neck. I realize that my white brothers and sisters' hearts are now being open. They're being soft and to receive, to want to change, to want to be. No white person alive right now own slaves, hopefully. So if that's the case, then there are some white people that may be in the lineage of slavery and things like that, but there also might be some white people that are ignorant. Renee, let me say this if I may.

We have to understand there are degrees of racism in our country like there are degrees of murder. I think I say this in the book, I do not recall. I said a lot. You have first degree murder. That is premeditated, second degree murder, a heat of passion. Then you move down the rungs to involuntary. manslaughter. It was not premeditated, but it still leads to death. I submit that so many white people in America right now fall under the rung of involuntary racism. There's not premeditated. You don't own

slaves. Rarely we see the crime of passion, George Floyd's murder. But every day we see involuntary racism. Amanda, you're so intelligent for a black man. Oh, God. Oh, my God. You're so pretty for a black girl. we see the involuntary racism. And that is what we have to do a better job of extinguishing, if you will. When you're talking about this, I keep thinking about a conversation I had with Ibram Kendi on the podcast where he said, racism just rains down and rains down. And so many white people don't even know they're wet. One of the words that came up for my team when we finished reading this was there is a generosity of spirit in this book. Were you raised like that?

Yeah, man, my parents did a phenomenal job. I think, and I say it in the acknowledgements. I forget exactly what I said, but I said, my dad, he taught me how to speak and my mom taught me how to have compassion. And I think it's that combination. Again, I saw my dad every Sunday stand in front of hundreds and at times thousands of people to deliver a message. But then my mom, I would go home and she taught me how to love. And so I was raised to figure out both how to speak in a manner in which people can understand, but then also how to love.

We have to remember, Renee, and there's a book, Malcolm Gladwell, Outliers. I'm sure you read it. I think I got outliers, but maybe not. And it talks about how some countries are receiver-oriented and some countries are speaker-oriented. And it's my job, because I believe speaker-oriented, where it's my job to make sure that Renee Brown,

understands what Emmanuel Lacho is trying to communicate. I'm not going to put the effort on Renee to understand. I'm going to make sure that I say it in a way that she can understand it. And so when I wrote this book, when I have my episodes, every time I speak, I try to do so to cater to the listener or to cater to the reader. Because if I speak and you don't understand, then what was the point of speaking? I spoke in vain. And that's really how I wrote the book. It's interesting. It reminds me of Frederick Douglass and how he thought about, I mean, he was maybe the greatest orator in our country ever. And he talked about the generosity of great speaking to land in the hearts and minds of people, right? I want to read this quote to you. It's from your book. Page 182. Is it weird when people read to you from your book? Not at all. I haven't gotten used to it yet. True allyship demands that it moved. from conversation into action, and that action will include risks. This isn't the 1830s or the

1930s, the 1950s or 1968, but I won't lie to you and say it'll be easy. The risks might be something as small as a distant social media friend unfriending you, but it could be something more severe, like ostracism from an intimate friend group, job insecurity, public or private ridicule, friction with loved ones. Know that when you say you are an ally, you are saying that you are saying that you are willing to risk your white privilege in the name of justice and equality for marginalized voices. It's more powerful when you read it. I should have had you do the audio book. I don't make a note of that. I don't think so. But I just think when you say you're an ally, you're saying that you're willing to risk your privilege, your white privilege in the name of

justice equality for marginalized voices. And that willingness to risk, I guess maybe would you say is the difference between performative allyship and real allyship? Yeah, because, Renee, it's scary. Like, I get it. Like, again, I grew up with white people. Love my white people. Like, I love my black people. I love all people.

It's scary, Renee, to put yourself in the front lines of criticism. What are you like? That's scary. And when I say you lose your white privilege, if you are now white but marching with a sea of black people, cops don't have time to delineate. They're about to punish you like they punish everybody else. Whereas if you were white marching with the sea of white people, oh, it's going to be treated a little bit differently.

So you lose that white immunity. And we've already said privilege is simply immunity or special access. I get that it's scary, Brennan. Again, I told you, uncomfortable conversations was never supposed to be done by myself. So a part of me has to wonder, like, ah, I wonder if my friend was a little fearful. Like, it's scary. That's a lot of weight. There's a lot of judgment. And there's a lot of people who are going to say, you white, what you even know about this. Your intentions aren't even pure. You're just trying to be like a white savior and the white savior complex. It's tough.

And here's the other thing. The last thing I'll say on this note, we live in a world that judges people by their actions and not their intentions. And so there are so many white people that are well intended, but they can't necessarily execute the action in the manner in which they wanted to parallel to the intention. And so as a result, they get backlash even though they were well intended. And so now my white brothers and sisters are scared to say anything because they don't want to say the wrong thing. And it's scary because you can't always say the right thing. I don't always say the right thing. And I live in black shoes. So I do think that's a big reason why people are, scared to get into the fight because it's dangerous out there.

It's such a powerful example of how there is no courage without vulnerability. That's good. You know, the willingness to show up and be seen and be heard when you can't control the outcome. That's really the definition of courage. And this is a book. Every dang chapter, you say, let's get uncomfortable. And I think that's what healing is going to require a big dose of courage and discomfort. Healing and growth. Yes.

And I fervently believe that like you don't grow unless you get uncomfortable. Like greatest things are birthed through discomfort. I mentioned this. Before ever playing in a football game, you got to go through four weeks of camp, training camp, grueling Texas sun with 12 to 15 pounds of gear on and cleats and wet shoulder pads. You go through all that for the reward. A woman goes through no small amount of labor pains to bring forth a child. We have to get uncomfortable

to birth great things. But I'll say this, it's only uncomfortable until you do it a few times. Yeah. That's it. When I first moved to L.A., it was uncomfortable waking up at 5 a.m., trying to be up when everybody else wakes up. Until you do it a couple times. Training camp and practice, it's uncomfortable until you become more acclimated. These conversations are only uncomfortable until we familiarize ourselves with having them. Yeah, I always say that when you have them a couple of times, the discomfort doesn't go away, but it shows up with grace. And grace is the whisper that says, you can do this, you can get through this.

We've done this before. Yeah. All right. You ready for some rapid fire questions? Please. I'm going to add an extra one because I got a football question for you that's so important. Okay. Are you ready?

Let's do it. Okay. Number one, fill in the blank. Vulnerability is? Difficult. Number two, your call to be brave, and I mean really brave, but your fear is real. You can feel it in your throat. What's the very first thing you do?

Pray and breathe. What is something that people often get wrong about you? My intelligence. What is the last TV show that you binged and loved? Defending Jacob, phenomenal show. Okay. I haven't seen it. Is it good?

You recommend it? Phenomenal. Well, I love that mystery type of stuff. It's phenomenal. Okay. One of your very favorite movies. Bad Voice 2, Oceans 11, I could go on, but I'll say those. Okay. I know who you are now. I see you. A concert you'll never forget.

Crazy. You know what? I got to say too. John Legend, it was intimate, but crazy enough, Taylor Swift. I love it. Both. Okay. Favorite meal. You can eat anything you want. Let me go with Padkey Mal Thai food. Yeah. Yes. Okay. What's on your nightstand? Currently, my book and nothing else.

I like it. A light, a lamp. Minimalist. I keep it simple. Yeah. I have two last ones, but I'm going to have to ask you this one. How's Steve Sark going to do at UT? He's hired a phenomenal coaching staff.

To be a great head coach, you just have to be a great delegator of responsibility as a result. it appears he will do well because of the staff he's hired. What's wrong with our offensive line? It's hard for Texas to retain quality players on the offensive line because they typically leave early as we've seen in the last four years, two players leaving early. So that's really what I would say and hopefully a new O line coach. Okay. Back to the script.

Okay. A snapshot of an ordinary moment in your life that gives you. real joy, just like a Polaroid picture, a snapshot. What's in it? It would be me sitting in front of a grand piano playing and singing. You play piano. Yeah, I like that. I taught myself how to play it in Texas in San Jacinto in that dorm there. I love it. Okay. Tell me one thing you're deeply grateful for right now. Listeners. I'm like I'm grateful that people are willing to listen to the words I have to say, regardless really of what I have to say, everybody's just kind of waiting for me to say something. I'm grateful that people trust me

enough to listen. Beautiful. Okay, we asked you for five songs you couldn't live without. Here's what you gave us. Days of Elijah by Donnie McLarkin. Imagine Me by Kirk Franklin. This time by John Legend, all of me by John Legend. And you made away by Travis Green. In one sentence, What does this mini mixtape, this playlist say about Manuel Acho? It says that Emmanuel Acho loves love because Emmanuel Acho has received the ultimate love. That demands an amen. Very beautiful. I'm like, there it is.

If one through line, Emmanuel Acho loves love because he's received the ultimate love. Man, very few people could do that that quickly. They give me those sentences that have 14 semicolons and make it a paragraph. You just nailed it. crushed it. Thank you for being with us on unlocking us. And congratulations. Your book is just sitting there, found a little comfortable position on the New York Times bestseller list. It's still there. I'm like, it's crazy. Crazy good is what it is. It's crazy good. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. So good to finally talk to you, Bray.

You too. And I am sure one day I will see you in person. I'll love it. And I will end with saying hook them horns. Hook them horns. What a man. A generous soul, a straight talker, a courageous conversationalist, of course, a longhorn. There's just no denying that this book is important and is making a difference. And I will never forget the anagram on denial. Don't even know I am lying. That's painful and true, as the truth is often painful, I guess. Emmanuel's book, Uncomfortable Conversations with a Black Man is available everywhere. He's Emmanuel Ocho, E-M-M-A-N-U-E-L-A-C-H-O on Twitter and Instagram. Facebook page is the same.

And you can visit www.uncomfortablecom to view all the episodes. I don't believe we get to be the people we want to be, the people we need to be, create the world we need and want without hard conversations. We have to show up. We have to be seen, even when we can't control the outcome. That's the definition of courage. And I think that's the definition of this book. Let's get comfortable.

Let's walk the talk. Things to remember, Church Bulletin at the end of the podcast. Just to remember that every episode of Unlocking Us has an episode page on Brneighbrown.com, all the references, links, notes. You can find there. You can also sign up for our newsletter. We are very careful about how often we send it. You really get it once a month and it's got updates, everything that's coming. Everything kind of highlights what I've learned from different podcasts.

We spotlight different films and books and movies. It's fun. And right now, if you're interested in the Dear to Lead podcast, part two of a conversation with Dr. Sarah Lewis, I cannot get enough of this conversation with her. Thank y'all for giving me your time. Thank you for questions and comments and concerns and feedback. Just grateful to you. Stay awkward, brave and kind, friends, and I'll see you next week.

Unlocking Us is produced by Bray Brown Education and Research Group. The music is by Carrie Rodriguez and Gina Chavez. Get new episodes as soon as they're published by following Unlocking Us on your favorite podcast app. We are part of the Vox Media Podcast Network. Discover more award-winning shows at podcast.com.