A curious phenomenon occurs when someone lives through a traumatic event. For those who make it out alive—from a natural disaster, a school shooting, or combat—many are haunted not just by what happened, but by a deep, persistent feeling that they shouldn’t have made it out at all. This is what we call survivor’s guilt.
It can take many forms:
“I could’ve done more to save others.”
“Why didn’t I try to help instead of running?”
“Others would’ve done more to stop the shooter.”
What’s so striking about this type of guilt is that people begin blaming themselves for something they had no control over. One moment they’re watching their best friend run a marathon; the next, they’re running from an explosion. They did what all human are hardwired to do—survive. And yet, many spiral into depression because they believe they didn’t deserve to live. What starts as “I could’ve done more” becomes “I’m a bad person.”
Instead of relief, survival becomes a source of shame. Thoughts like I didn’t deserve to survive or I’m not allowed to be happy settle in. What should be euphoria turns into self-loathing.
So, the question I keep coming back to is: why?
The answer is as simple as it is complex: humans need to make sense of things that don’t make sense. We need to create meaning out of the meaningless. Especially for those of us who are deeply empathetic and driven by a strong sense of justice, it’s nearly unbearable to accept that sometimes, horrible things just happen—and there’s nothing we can do about it.
Saying It’s my fault that person died offers more psychological comfort than facing the truth: That person died for no reason at all.
Some turn to religion or spirituality to make sense of it all. But “everything happens for a reason” doesn’t quite fit when it comes to school shootings or terrorist attacks. That phrase might soothe us after a breakup or a layoff—but not in the face of senseless violence or mass tragedy. What kind of god would allow that? And how can we feel chosen or spared when others, especially children, were not?
I believe that white activists are experiencing our own form of survivor’s guilt.
The traumatic event? White supremacy.
Except it’s not an event; it’s an ongoing tragedy that has no end in sight. And what makes our guilt so much more complex and burdensome is:
We feel responsible for causing white supremacy
We continue to cause harm through our actions and inaction
We have gained privileges and wealth as a result of benefitting from the tragedy
These dynamics are what makes this form of survivor’s guilt so unique. Those who survive natural disasters or a terrorist attack did not cause the tragedy, nor did they gain anything from it. Yet even still, they end up feeling like they shouldn’t be happy nor do they deserve the luxury of focusing on their own healing.
The heart of survivor’s guilt is the idea that because others had it worse, our needs aren’t important. And we believe that we owe it to those who were less fortunate to use our unearned but precious time on earth to sacrifice our needs for the sake of others, especially the victims of the tragedy.
It’s not uncommon for a survivor of a mass shooting to devote their lives to advocating for gun control, or a survivor of a hurricane to dedicate their life to climate change efforts. Similarly, many white folks throw ourselves into anti-racism efforts not necessarily because it’s the right thing to do, but rather to assuage our deep feelings of guilt and to repent for the sins of our race.
However, here’s another layer to peel back: we are victims, too. We also have been harmed by white supremacy. But this fact is often met with an internal eyeroll; “sure, that’s true, but others have been harmed way more than me.” We minimize—and even discredit—our pain.
So do those who escape a deadly car crash with “just” a broken leg. Yes, they are better off than those who died, but that doesn’t mean you don’t mend the broken bone.
There’s no neat resolution here, but maybe the starting point is recognizing that the fact that we are survivors of white supremacy is not a moral failing. That being white is not something we need to justify or atone for. And that healing doesn’t require us to carry the whole world on our shoulders. Or, simply, we don’t need to earn our right to heal through our anti-racist efforts.
The world needs people to fight tooth and nail for justice, we know that. But what I believe we don’t understand as well is that the world needs healing.
And only healed people can heal the world.
That includes you.