In the workshops I lead at churches, most people readily accept that diversity is valuable. At least, it is on principle. But then comes the lesson on how to make that diverse community possible.

A lot of folks I meet think that breaking the ice is the biggest barrier to diverse communities, that if we are welcoming enough we will figure out how to be diverse in community. Truly, being welcoming is part of the story (Jesus did commend people for welcoming him), and sometimes simply starting conversations with unlikely people works. Miles of cardstock and gallons of paint are dedicated to making “All Are Welcome” signs across my city. Yet often after this first welcome, people with marginalized identities have to navigate power dynamics that people from the dominant identity pretend don’t exist. This is where the best intentions for diversity break down.

Let’s look at race. A lot of times, white people think of racism like a plane you get on.

They think that when you do something really bad, like hate-crime bad, you’re a racist. Then, whoosh! You’re on Racist Airways, and that’s it. You’re one of the bad ones. Many white people put great energy into not being seen as someone flying Racist Airways. Often they will openly insult other white people who are more racist-seeming than they are in order to distance themselves from them.

But in a society that was constructed on slavery, indigenous genocide, and extreme hatred of immigrants, racism isn’t the thing that happens only once a really, really bad thing happens. Racism isn’t like a plane. Racism is like a moving sidewalk at an airport. If you walk, you head to racism. If you do nothing, that nothing consents to the moving walkway underfoot, and you head to racism. Even if you stay still and face the opposite direction and use all of the politically correct words, you’re still moving toward racism, except now you feel like you’re better than the other backward-facing ones.

All of this reinforces white supremacy, which has been enshrined in American culture.

People of color have various levels of awareness of the moving walkway on which we find ourselves. To survive, we often learn how to walk appropriately on the moving sidewalk so that no one runs us over, and knowingly or unknowingly, sometimes we reinforce the racist systems that are oppressing us. The only option you have to avoid heading into inevitable racism is to move in the other direction. Run, if you have to. But know that this is never a one-and-done identity.

There is no Allyship Airlines for which you can buy a ticket and sit comfy.

Solidarity is always an active choice, and you are in solidarity when you are choosing to move, and you are not in solidarity when you stand still. Sometimes I meet people who were part of the civil rights movement, and they talk as if that participation nullified any need to continue updating how they talk about race or fighting racism. They moved in the right direction on the walkway for a while but stopped, which means that they are again moving toward racism.

Adapted from Staying Awake: The Gospel for Changemakers by Tyler Sit, a practical exploration of Christianity for people who want to show up for justice and stay in the movement. Complete with stories, worksheets, poetry, and a commitment to centering queer people of color, this book is here to support you in staying awake: to God, to the evils of oppression, and to the world’s coming liberation.