THE RACIAL BURDEN

Some people feel it every day, without knowing the name. Others learn about it through books or personal experience. The “racial burden” — or charge raciale, as French writer Douce Dibondo calls it — is the invisible weight carried by many people of color in societies where whiteness is the norm.

It’s not always violent or loud. It’s often quiet, internal. It’s the feeling that you always need to watch yourself. The pressure to speak “correctly,” to smile, to stay calm even when someone says something offensive. To represent your entire community in a classroom, a meeting, or a job interview. It’s the fear of being “too much” — too angry, too visible, too different.

Douce Dibondo describes this in her book La charge raciale as something that is both mental and physical. It’s a feeling of constant tension, like holding your breath without realizing it. She says this weight is not only created by others, but also lives inside the person who experiences it. It affects the way they walk, speak, laugh, even breathe.

So is this concept useful? Does it help us understand how racism works on a deeper level? Or could it make things worse — by adding another layer of difficulty in a world that’s already stressful for everyone?

Let’s look at both sides.

Why this concept matters

The idea of “racial burden” gives a name to something many people have felt for years but couldn’t explain. Just like the concept of “mental load” helped describe the invisible work women do at home, the racial burden shows how people of color have to manage extra emotional and social work every day.

It’s not just about open racism. It’s about small things that happen all the time. Someone touches your hair without asking. A teacher always calls on you when talking about “Africa” or “immigration.” You hear, “Wow, you speak so well!” as if surprise was expected. Each moment alone seems small, but together, they build a mountain. And this mountain is heavy to carry.

Naming the burden helps people not feel alone. It shows that the problem isn’t in their head. And once the problem has a name, it can be addressed — in schools, in workplaces, in therapy, in activism. It can also help people who are not affected by it understand what others go through every day, without judgment or guilt, just with openness.

But is it adding more weight?

Some critics say that focusing on the racial burden might actually create more suffering. In other words: if you always think about how heavy the world is, won’t it feel even heavier?

It’s a fair question. Talking constantly about pain, identity, and trauma can become exhausting. Some people fear that it turns life into a struggle where everything is political, even simple things like how you dress or what music you like. They wonder: isn’t it possible to just live, without overthinking everything?

Others say that everyone feels pressure in today’s world. White people, too, may feel anxious, judged, or out of place in multicultural spaces. Some experience what’s called “white guilt” — a discomfort or sadness about the injustices of the past, or fear of saying the wrong thing. They may feel blamed for problems they didn’t create. In very diverse environments, they may feel like “the outsider” and fear being called racist even if they mean no harm.

So is the racial burden unique? Or is it part of a bigger human burden we all carry, in different ways?

A useful comparison, but not an equal one

Yes, white people can feel anxious or lost in diverse societies. But the difference is that they don’t face the same systemic obstacles. Their discomfort is real, but it’s not tied to violence, exclusion, or constant doubt about their worth. They don’t have to represent their race. They are not followed in stores, asked where they’re “really” from, or told their names are “too difficult.”

The racial burden is not just emotional. It’s social, historical, and institutional. It comes from centuries of inequality, and it still shapes access to jobs, housing, healthcare, and respect. Even when it’s invisible, it’s always there — like background noise that never stops.

So yes, everyone suffers in this world. But the suffering is not the same. And recognizing one form of suffering doesn’t erase the others. It simply allows for a more honest and fair conversation.

So what should we do?

First, we should take the concept seriously — but not use it as a label to feel superior or different. It’s not about making people feel guilty. It’s about understanding how racism works, even in polite, modern, “diverse” spaces.

Second, we should avoid turning everything into identity politics. People of color are not only their pain. They are joy, creativity, complexity. The racial burden exists, but it shouldn’t define everything. Knowing the weight is there can help us start putting it down — together.

Third, white people can take part in this process. Not by speaking over others, but by listening, learning, and taking action. By reflecting on their role in society, without falling into guilt or shame. Empathy is not a competition. It’s a bridge.

Conclusion

The racial burden is not a myth. It is a real, powerful force in many lives. Naming it helps. Talking about it helps. But we must also be careful not to turn it into a cage. The goal is not to carry the burden forever — the goal is to live fully, with truth and with freedom.

Yes, life is already difficult. But ignoring the weight doesn’t make it lighter. Facing it might be the only way to finally breathe.