One of my favorite stories from childhood was And To Think That I Saw It on Mulberry Street. Rather than for its literary merit, my emotional attachment to the book is actually my emotional attachment to the memory of my father reading it to me. As such, any criticism of the book strikes not only the core of me, but strikes the core of me as a vulnerable child. This is how Dr. Seuss has become sacrosanct across the world. Despite the glaring racism in his books and cartoons, it’s difficult for perfectly rational white people (myself included) not to take it personally when someone names this offense. After all, what kind of heartless miscreant would pick on a little kid? How could anyone call my father reading me a bedtime story a racist act?

No doubt, this emotional abhorrence is how many people received the recent paper by Katie Ishizuka and Ramón Stephens, The Cat is Out of the Bag: Orientalism, Anti-Blackness, and White Supremacy in Dr. Seuss’s Children’s Books, in which they examined the 2000+ characters in Theodor Geisel’s children’s books. They write, “Males of color are only presented in subservient, exotified, or dehumanized roles. This also remains true in their relation to white characters. Most startling is the complete invisibility and absence of women and girls of color across Seuss' entire children’s book collection.” Certainly, this stark reality was a bitter pill to swallow for many.

But, the thing is, that’s how systemic racism works for white people. Its insidious nature is predicated on our emotional attachments, our egos and the high value we place on being polite. Our fond reminiscences might not bear up under scrutiny. What we thought was merit could just as likely be privilege. Being an upstander might mean a cold shoulder at the water cooler.

Which brings us to Grandma. Sweet, nurturing, harmless, kind, well-meaning Grandma (or any other beloved relative you would sooner eat a worm cupcake than criticize). And yet, sometimes Grandma is racist. Or rather, sometimes Grandma says something or does something racist. Maybe she comments that your Asian American friend looks “just like” a fellow nurse she knew 50 years ago. Maybe she’s in the middle of reading your child Little Black Sambo. Once, a beloved family friend – apparently trying to be helpful as we were perusing a menu – pointed out to my Latina daughter, “Look, they have tortilla soup.”

Dismantling the racism that is entrenched in our dominant culture will mean much more than marching and voting and attending seminars. Inevitably, the last bastion to fall will take place on the fourth Thursday in November.