The Question I Never Knew I Needed

A Racial Autobiography Part 8

For five years of my professional life, I reported to someone who described himself as a Black radical intellectual. He was brilliant, gregarious, and carried an authority that shaped every room he entered. Over time, we became professionally close. He helped me navigate my first real experiences supervising cross-cultural staff. I was the campus pastor, and he found value in my pastoral presence—both for the institution and, eventually, in his own life.

After he left the institution, our relationship continued. Phone calls stretched long. Lunches turned into afternoons. We stayed connected through life changes and made intentional choices to remain in each other’s orbit.

It was during one of those lunches that he asked me a question that has quietly reordered how I understand myself, my formation, and the depth of my white spiritual identity.

“Do you think we would have gotten this close if I hadn’t been your direct supervisor?”

The question landed heavier than it sounded.

I paused—not because I didn’t have an answer, but because I was measuring my response. I had grown accustomed to calibrating my words around him. I did not want to sound naïve or self-deceived in front of someone whose intellect I deeply respected.

I offered something cautious and unfinished. “I’d have to think about that,” I said, “but I think yes.”

What I didn’t say was that I was convinced the answer was yes. I believed that I would have noticed his work, been drawn to his ideas, and sought out a relationship. I trusted my own narrative of openness, curiosity, and good intention.

He responded immediately. “I don’t.” There was no edge in his voice. Just clarity.

What followed took a long time to absorb. He told me that I would not have developed in the ways I needed to unless he had authority in the relationship. That authority forced me to engage him seriously—to reckon with his way of thinking, his critiques, his expectations, and his values. My job depended on it.

Still missing the point, I pushed back. I asked whether we might have found each other anyway in a small institution. Whether shared interests and proximity could have done the work that authority did. He stopped me again. That wasn’t the lesson.

What he was naming was not the outcome of our relationship, but its conditions. Our relationship began with him holding power over me. That power disrupted my comfort. It required attention. It demanded growth—not because I was especially virtuous, but because I was self-interested.

I needed to stay in right relationship with my boss.

The painful realization came slowly, over the course of a week I would rather not repeat. What I had to face was this: my growth did not begin with moral clarity or relational courage. It began with necessity. Without authority pressing in on me, I would not have chosen the discomfort that formation required.

This is where the question did its real work.

I had spent years believing in my better nature. I had learned the language of justice and equity. I could name structural racism. I could talk about privilege. But I had not yet confronted how deeply self-interest shaped my formation. I easily mistook proximity for virtue and intention for transformation.

In this case, authority interrupted me. Only authority could.

The relationship mattered deeply to me. It still does. But I have had to relinquish the story that I brought something special to it at the beginning. I did not arrive generous or brave. I arrived needing a paycheck. I arrived needing approval. I arrived needing to keep my job.

The question still lingers with me, not as accusation but as a guide: What does it actually take for me to grow? And how often do I confuse my values with my willingness to be changed?

Project 2045 exists because I no longer trust easy answers to those questions.

Finally Finding a Place to Land

My cultural growth is a struggle, ongoing, but not without places to land. I found one. It brought me to a place where I could be fully me as a white man doing this work.

And that’s where the story will pick up next.

Check back in for the next article (9 of 11), where we explore how to bring our whole selves into spaces of justice and culture.