Emotional Regulation Under White Supremacy: Why “Calm” Isn’t Neutral

In our recent episode of White Women Wake Up, my mom and co‑host Karen unpacked a comment her therapist friend dropped during book club while they were exploring grief and What's Up With White Women?. The therapist said, “emotional‑regulation techniques are rooted in white supremacy.” —and it hasn’t left my mind since. Over the past week I’ve been chewing on it in therapy and during late‑night Google rabbit holes. I still believe many tools—mindful breathing, somatic grounding, co‑regulation—are genuinely healing and not inherently oppressive. But some practices and expectations absolutely are. Today I want to name those white‑supremacy‑shaped habits so we can ditch them while keeping the techniques that truly serve our collective healing.

How White Supremacy Sets the Emotional Thermostat

White‑supremacy culture prizes objectivity and the right to comfort. If I’m the one holding privilege, your anger or grief becomes a threat; my comfort trumps your expression.

Karen reflected on her childhood in our latest episode; the rules were clear: sit on your hands at church, don’t talk too loud in class, and never cry in public. Emotional flat‑lining became a badge of maturity—and femininity. Anger was “unladylike,” righteous rage “aggressive,” vulnerability “messy.” The palette of acceptable feelings shrank to pastel positivity and polite sadness—no bold primaries allowed. 

Suppressed Emotions: What White Culture Tells Us to Hide

Girls are taught early to bottle anger, frustration, even big joy that might draw attention. Boys are drilled even harder: don’t cry, don’t need, don’t lose control. Our culture’s preferred emotional menu boils down to calm cheerfulness with a side of muted disappointment.

But psychologists warn that habitual suppression does more than predict higher depression, anxiety, and lower relationship quality; it also primes the body for a defensive reflex that sociologist  Robin DiAngelo calls “white fragility.” When half of our emotional keyboard is off‑limits, we lose the nuance and resilience required to stay present with discomfort. The minute a conversation threatens the myth of white innocence, the nervous system screams danger, and the body scrambles for protection—tears, anger, retreat, or icy silence. The goal isn’t understanding; it’s restoring comfort for the person with power. Limited emotional range plus cultural entitlement to comfort equals a hair‑trigger meltdown whenever racial stress arises. If your identity depends on appearing unruffled, even gentle feedback feels catastrophic, and meaningful dialogue shuts down before it starts.

The Hidden Cost: Stunted Emotional Maturity

A culture that equates composure with virtue becomes expert at distraction but amateur at grief. In a typical white‑capitalist script, we outsource the awkward parts—hire a mortuary, schedule a tasteful one‑hour service, pass around a casserole, exchange a quick hug, then hustle back to productivity before the PTO clock runs out. The message is clear: big feelings are a private mess to be handled quickly and quietly.

Other cultures take the opposite approach, treating grief as a communal, embodied process that unfolds over time:

- Jewish Shiva (United States & Diaspora). For seven days mourners sit at home while friends flow in with food, songs, and stories. Mirrors are covered so appearance doesn’t matter; nothing is required of the bereaved but presence. The community holds the logistics—and the silence—so sorrow has room to breathe.

- New Orleans Jazz Funerals. Rooted in West‑African and Afro‑Caribbean traditions, a brass band leads a procession from church to cemetery with hymns that shift into joyful second‑line dancing. The ritual makes space for both wailing and celebration, reminding everyone that life and death are braided together.

- Ghanaian Homegoing Ceremonies. Among the Akan people a funeral can last several days, featuring drumming, dancing, and call‑and‑response storytelling that honors the deceased’s lineage. Grief is a full‑body experience—moving, sweating, singing—so emotion literally leaves the muscles.

- Día de los Muertos (Mexico). Families build ofrendas with marigolds, sugar skulls, and photographs, then picnic in cemeteries to welcome the dead “home.” Instead of erasing grief, the holiday integrates loss into annual life cycles, teaching children that remembering is sweet, not morbid.

- Buddhist Bon Odori (Japan) & Filipino Pa‑siyám. Both observe ritual chanting and nine‑day gatherings where community recites prayers, cooks, and sleeps under the same roof. Time is the medicine; the bereaved are relieved of normal duties so the nervous system can down‑shift.

These practices share three through‑lines: time, touch, and collective labor. They slow the clock, encourage physical expression (dancing, crying, drumming), and distribute practical tasks across the village. Neuroscience backs them up: rhythmic movement and synchronized singing stimulate the vagus nerve, lowering stress hormones and fostering social bonding.

When white culture skips embodied mourning, sorrow goes underground, resurfacing later as perfectionism, panic attacks, hedonic over‑work, or numbing doom‑scrolls at 1 a.m. Our emotional range shrinks and our capacity for empathy shrivels—fuel for the very “white fragility” we discussed earlier.

Men and Emotional Isolation: Patriarchy’s Fallout

White patriarchy didn’t just muzzle women; it straight‑jacketed men. Masculinity is still coded as stoic, self‑sufficient dominance—a script that leaves boys little room to practice vulnerability. Meanwhile many Millennial and Gen Z women were raised by second‑wave‑inspired mothers to be fiercely independent—encouraged to ace AP tests, land scholarships, and expect egalitarian partnerships.

That asymmetry shows up in the data and on the dating apps: by their mid‑twenties many women have logged years of therapy, friend‑group debriefs, and TikTok DBT videos, while their male peers are just learning that anger is often a cover for fear. The American Psychological Association reports that men who endorse traditional masculinity norms score lower on emotional‑regulation skills and higher on loneliness and depressive symptoms. U.S. Surgeon General Vivek Murthy calls loneliness a public‑health crisis—prolonged isolation shortens life expectancy as much as smoking.

When emotionally literate women meet emotionally under‑resourced men, both sides feel the gap. Women describe “dating down” in communication; men report feeling judged or shut down the moment they show need. Add the fact that neither group was taught co‑regulation—how to soothe each other in real time—and relationships buckle under unmet expectations. Young men drift toward isolation, sometimes with tragic outcomes, while young women burn out from perpetual caretaking and wonder why intimacy feels so far away.

Parenting on an Emotional Diet: Impact on Kids

If you’ve ever whispered “Use your inside voice” to a toddler in Target, you know how fast we pass these norms down. Developmental psychologists call the process emotion socialization—the ways adults respond to kids’ feelings that teach which emotions are welcome (Rivers & Brackett, 2011). Cross‑racial studies show striking differences: Black and Latinx parents, coping with a world that will not cushion their children, are more likely to coach big emotions—label them, validate them, then guide coping skills—while white parents, especially middle‑class, default to minimization and distraction (Halberstadt et al., 2015; Dunbar‑Norwood & Hubert, 2020). When parents shush or redirect instead of coaching, kids internalize the lesson that strong feelings are shameful, and longitudinal data links that strategy to higher anxiety and behavioral issues by fifth grade (Eisenberg & Spinrad, 2014).

Corporate life mirrors the playground. A 2018 Monster.com survey found that 80 percent of workers believe crying at work damages professional reputation, and a Yale study on gender in the workplace noted that women who tear up are judged as “unprofessional” while men are seen as “overwhelmed” but still competent (Brescoll, 2018). I’ve even heard fashion‑industry mentors teach newcomers the “cry‑closet” strategy—choose a stall, set a timer for three minutes, splash water, reapply mascara. The subtext is clear: regulate out of sight so the system stays comfortable. That’s not resilience; that’s emotional exile.

Neurodiversity & Emotional Regulation: Challenging the “Right Volume”

White norms don’t just silence racial minorities; they pathologize neurodivergent expression. Growing up, I internalized that my rapid‑fire thoughts and sensory reactions were “too much.” Many neurodivergent kids hear the same. When the emotional thermostat is set for neurotypical comfort, anyone who runs hotter or colder gets labeled defective.

As a kid I had no label for why fluorescent lights felt like jackhammers or why a surprise fire drill could spin me into panic. My sensory world was dialed up to eleven, yet adults around me only saw “high‑maintenance.” Teachers sighed when the tag in my shirt made me cry; church leaders whispered that “good girls don’t make scenes” as I melted down after a schedule change. Every correction taught the same lesson: my feelings were too big for the room.

Without tools or diagnosis I did what many neurodivergent children do—tried to shrink. I memorized social cues, laughed on a delay, and swallowed distress until it fizzed out later as migraines and insomnia. White‑supremacy culture’s demand for composure layered over neurotypical expectations, pathologizing my very way of being.

Now, with therapy and a late‑in‑life diagnosis, I’m unlearning two lies: that regulation means invisibility and that comfort belongs to the majority. My go‑to strategies—biting my nails, stimming with tactile object (currently clay), scripting transitions aloud—regulate through sensation, not against it. They honor my nervous system while refusing the cultural demand to disappear.

Toxic Positivity: The Polite Mask That Silences Truth

Scroll any wellness feed and you’ll meet the mantra “good vibes only.” That phrase isn’t harmless; it’s the PR department of white‑supremacy culture, drafted to keep things comfortable for the status quo. White women in particular inherited a social script that says our job is to smooth conflict, brighten the room, and turn every wound into a gratitude list before anyone feels awkward. We learned to slap a smiley‑face sticker over grief, rage, or even plain discomfort—and to judge others when they don’t.

Psychologists call it emotional invalidation: responding to pain with clichés or silver linings instead of empathy. Research shows that invalidation spikes cortisol levels and predicts higher anxiety and depression (Krause et al., 2021). When a Black colleague names workplace bias and we counter with "Focus on the positives—you still have a job!," we’re not just missing the point; we’re reinforcing the very hierarchy causing the harm. Toxic positivity becomes a velvet‑gloved form of dismissal, gaslighting marginalized voices while preserving our own comfort.

The tragedy is that the mask backfires on us, too. Studies on ironic process theory reveal that suppressing unwanted thoughts or feelings makes them rebound stronger (Wegner, 1994). That’s why the “smile-through-it” crowd often ends up with nighttime panic attacks, autoimmune flares, or unexplained exhaustion. By refusing to honor the full spectrum of emotion, we cut ourselves off from the data our bodies are trying to deliver—signals about boundaries, values, and unmet needs.

Breaking free from toxic positivity requires daily practice—which we’ll unpack in the Practical Steps section below.

Toxic positivity promised a shortcut to happiness; all it delivered was disconnection—from others and from ourselves. Real emotional maturity means trading the laminated smile for genuine, messy humanity—and trusting that communities grow stronger, not weaker, when we tell the truth about how we feel.

Counter‑Cultural Emotional Regulation: Practical Steps

- Name and validate first. Pause and say, “Wow, that’s tough.” Sitting with a feeling—even for 90 seconds—can move it through the body healthier.

- Swap Bright‑Side for Bedside. Replace “At least…” with “Tell me more.” Offer presence, not solutions.

- Name the Weather. Acknowledge what’s happening inside: “I feel angry and sad,” without rushing to mood‑shift. Let the cloud pass at its own pace.

- Practice Discomfort Reps. Sit with a friend’s tears—or your own anger—for one extra minute. Capacity grows with repetition, just like a workout.

- Expand the volume range. Allow crying in meetings, righteous anger in community forums, ecstatic joy in quiet churches. Regulation is guiding emotion, not gagging it.

- Swap toxic positivity for radical presence. Instead of “Look on the bright side,” try “I’m here with you.” Optimism is fine; bypass is not.

- Model complexity for kids. Teach mad/sad/scared/glad vocabulary, but also show them how adults apologize, grieve, and celebrate without shame.

- Return to collective rituals. Communal lament—whether in a circle of friends or at a social‑justice march—reconnects us and interrupts isolation.** Communal lament—whether in a circle of friends or at a social‑justice march—reconnects us and interrupts isolation.

Calling In White Women: Emotional Literacy as Anti‑Racist Work

Every time we swallow anger to stay "nice," weaponize tears to dodge accountability, or demand that others keep us comfortable, we reinforce the very system that wounds us. Emotional literacy is anti‑racist work. It frees us to show up in movements with integrity and gives the men and kids we love permission to feel whole, too.

Here’s the homework I’m assigning myself—and inviting you to try:

- List the emotions you were taught to suppress. Who benefited from that suppression?

- Practice one uncomfortable expression this week. Cry in front of a colleague, admit to your partner you feel lonely, let righteous anger show up in a community meeting.

- Validate, don’t fix. When a friend shares pain, resist the “at least…” reflex. Offer presence instead.

White supremacy set the thermostat, but we can reach over and change the setting. Let’s learn to tolerate heat, welcome storms, and let the full weather of human feeling wash through our lives. That is real emotional maturity—and the next step in our collective waking‑up.

Stay curious, be open and keep waking up!

-Jonelle

Works Cited

-American Psychological Association. (2018). Guidelines for Psychological Practice with Boys and Men. APA.

-Brescoll, V. L. (2018). When Men Cry and Women Shouldn’t: Gender Stereotypes and Emotion Expression in the Workplace. Yale School

of Management Research Paper.

-Chanda, M. L., & Levitin, D. J. (2013). The neurochemistry of music. Trends in Cognitive Sciences, 17(4), 179–193.

-DiAngelo, R. (2018). White Fragility: Why It's So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism. Beacon Press.

-Dunbar‑Norwood, D., & Hubert, J. (2020). Emotion socialization in racially diverse families. Journal of Family Psychology, 34(3), 383–394.

-Eisenberg, N., & Spinrad, T. L. (2014). Emotion‑related regulation: Sharpening the definition. Child Development Perspectives, 8(2), 120–

125.

-Halberstadt, A. G., Wilson, S. R., & Whiteside, H. (2015). Racial and ethnic differences in mother–child emotion socialization. Emotion,

15(6), 827–842.

-Krause, E. D., Mendelson, T., & Lynch, T. R. (2021). The cortisol cost of emotional invalidation: Links to anxiety and depression.

Psychoneuroendocrinology, 127, 105170.

-Monster.com. (2018). Survey: Crying at Work and Professional Reputation. Monster Insights Report.

-Murthy, V. H. (2023). Our Epidemic of Loneliness and Isolation: The U.S. Surgeon General’s Advisory. U.S. Department of Health and

Human Services.

-Rivers, S. E., & Brackett, M. A. (2011). Emotional intelligence and emotion regulation: Insights for social emotional learning. In A. D. Fink

(Ed.), New Directions in Child and Adolescent Development (pp. 45–59). Wiley.

-Wegner, D. M. (1994). Ironic processes of mental control. Psychological Review, 101(1), 34–52.

-Koelsch, S. (2014). Brain correlates of music‑evoked emotion. Nature Reviews Neuroscience, 15(3), 170–180.