System 1 vs System 2
Implicit bias is a sneaky little thing; it’s something that we all have, and sometimes we don’t even realize it. That fact should make me feel better about the implicit biases I recognize in myself–that it’s about how our brains process information, not necessarily a reflection of malicious intent–but it doesn’t. The readings from Pritlove et al. on “implicit bias, microaggressions, and stereotype,” Staats (2016) on “understanding implicit bias,” and Applebaum’s (2019) “remediating implicit bias” all reinforced this idea while also challenging me to consider how biases show up in daily life.
I truly believe that mine is genuinely systemic–I have fought these internal biases my whole life. For me, the struggle lies in recognizing my own biases and trying to actively counter them. Staats (2016) makes the point that implicit biases are “pervasive, robust, and often in conflict with our declared beliefs and values.” That line really hit me. I know I believe deeply in equity, kindness, and respect for all people, yet I also know that there are times when my gut reactions or first impressions don’t always align with those values. For example, when I catch myself making a snap judgment based on appearance or speech, I immediately feel the tension Staats describes. I really enjoyed the explanation of Systems 1 and 2 that she lays out–how System 1 is essentially the “autopilot,” while System 2 is the real life captain at the head of the ship. The challenge, then, is in slowing down (System 2), questioning those reactions (System 1), and pushing back against the automatic stereotypes that might otherwise guide my behavior.
This is where Applebaum’s (2019) discussion of remediation comes into play. She emphasizes that the goal is not just to “fix” ourselves, as though bias is a personal failing, but to understand how our biases are connected to broader social and structural patterns. That insight matters to me because it shifts the work from my own individual guilt trip to a collective responsibility. Fighting implicit bias is not about achieving personal perfection but about developing practices and environments that disrupt the bias before it turns into harm. I try to do this in my own interactions—questioning my judgments, doing a lot of introspection on why I have that bias, and then actively trying to counter it.
What I cannot wrap my head around, though, is the fact that many people don’t seem to wrestle with implicit biases at all—instead they act on their explicit biases in cruel, hateful ways. Pritlove et al. (2021) note how microaggressions, which are often fueled by implicit bias, can still wound deeply. Yet alongside those subtle slights, we also see open hostility, discrimination, and even violence that comes from people who seem to embrace their prejudices. For me, this is harder to understand than implicit bias. I can grasp the science behind subconscious associations; I can see how cultural stereotypes seep into all of us without our permission. But what I can’t comprehend is the choice to nurture those stereotypes into explicit hatred.
Maybe part of it is that implicit bias gives people “cover”—it allows someone to say, “I didn’t mean it that way,” or “I wasn’t aware.” Explicit bias, however, removes that cover. When people act in hateful or cruel ways, it feels like they are making a conscious decision to disregard the humanity of others. This is what I find myself grappling with the most. I work so hard to fight against the biases I know exist within me, yet there are others who not only refuse to fight theirs but instead act them out proudly. It makes me wonder how much of this is about willful ignorance, or about benefiting from a system that rewards certain groups at the expense of others.
Staats (2016) talks about how implicit bias perpetuates inequity in institutions like schools, workplaces, and healthcare. But explicit bias amplifies that harm even further, creating environments where cruelty feels normalized. Applebaum (2019) reminds us that simply being “aware” of bias isn’t enough; we have to actively work to interrupt it, whether through practices of self-reflection or institutional change. That reminder gives me some hope. It tells me that the work I do on myself is meaningful, but it also challenges me to be bolder in calling out explicit bias when I see it.
Ultimately, my reflection is this: implicit bias is something I recognize in myself and commit to fighting daily. It humbles me because it is proof that I have grown up in a system that has not only benefited me greatly because of the color of my skin, but has also perpetuated systemic biases and prejudices in my thoughts and beliefs (without my permission!). At the same time, I cannot reconcile how some people choose to embrace bias openly, allowing it to turn into cruelty. The readings together help me frame that tension—they remind me that bias operates on both subconscious and structural levels, but they also challenge me to stay engaged in the work of remediation. Even if I cannot fully understand the hatred that drives explicit bias, I can refuse to let my own implicit biases go unchecked. And maybe, in doing so, I contribute in small ways to building spaces where both implicit and explicit bias lose their grip.
My big question–the inability of my brain to understand the hatred and cruelty in our world–is unfortunately not one that is answerable. So, my question for this week is this: in the workplace, when we DO witness bias and microaggressions, how do we “wave the purple flag” and build those safe spaces in a way that is respectful and realistic?
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