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Everyone can - and often does - have confident opinions about those questions. But you can't really answer them in any objective way unless we can agree on a definition of the word.There are basically two categories of definitions:The interpersonal definitions. Something like "Prejudice or antagonism directed against another person based on their membership in a racial group."The sociological definitions. Something like "A highly organized system of 'race'-based group privilege that operates at every level of society and is held together by a sophisticated ideology of color/'race' supremacy."

“Eliminated the idea of personal racism” is kinda an overstatement isn’t it? Like yeah, it exists, but interpersonal racism against white people just doesn’t do anything, or at least nothing worse than any other kind of insult like calling them an asshole. It maybe hurts white feelings a little and that’s it, but most white people don’t even seem offended by terms like “Mayo monkey” or “cracker” and I would guess it’s because those terms aren’t representative of white people being systemically oppressed for being white, since that’s never been a thing. There’s an important distinction in that things like N word or the propaganda trying to paint black and brown people as being criminals is literally tied to slavery

Basically, these kinds of disagreements boil down to there being two ways to define racism: a colloquial definition, where racism is just treating someone differently due to their race, and a more academic definition drawn from the social sciences and philosophy where racism is, to use the standard simplification "prejudice plus power."

You're using the first definition, on which you are correct that it appears to be possible to be racist against white people; and your sister is using the second, on which she is correct that it would seem impossible to be racist to white people, at least in the context of a society where whites are and have historically been in a position of power over other racial groups.

Let’s say you present 3 directions to a client: directions A, B, and C. These are our initial 3 branches. You have a client review, direction C is the winner, and so you iterate again. 3 more branches: C1, C2, and C3. Another review, another winner, another round of iterations: C2.1, C2.2, C2.3. Branch out, choose one, zoom in, branch out, repeat.

Sometimes, the design process requires us to zoom out. Let’s say you present those 3 creative directions, A, B, and C, but nothing lands. Back to the drawing board. You might keep pushing forward with branches D, E, F. Nothing lands. You’re forced to zoom out and realize that you’re not even on the right parent branch.

it’s the common rules that govern all creation and consumption across a medium that change people and society. Oral culture teaches us to think one way, written culture another. Television turned everything into entertainment, and social media taught us to think with the crowd.

There is a grammar and logic to the medium, enforced by internal culture and by ratings reports broken down by the quarter-hour. You can do better cable news or worse cable news, but you are always doing cable news.

Don’t just look at the way things are being expressed; look at how the way things are expressed determines what’s actually expressible.” In other words, the medium blocks certain messages.

Television teaches us to expect that anything and everything should be entertaining. But not everything should be entertainment, and the expectation that it will be is a vast social and even ideological change.

Television, he writes, “serves us most ill when it co-opts serious modes of discourse — news, politics, science, education, commerce, religion — and turns them into entertainment packages.

The border between entertainment and everything else was blurring, and entertainers would be the only ones able to fulfill our expectations for politicians. He spends considerable time thinking, for instance, about the people who were viable politicians in a textual era and who would be locked out of politics because they couldn’t command the screen.

As a medium, Twitter nudges its users toward ideas that can survive without context, that can travel legibly in under 280 characters. It encourages a constant awareness of what everyone else is discussing. It makes the measure of conversational success not just how others react and respond but how much response there is. It, too, is a mold, and it has acted with particular force on some of our most powerful industries — media and politics and technology.

I’ve also learned that patterns of attention — what we choose to notice and what we do not — are how we render reality for ourselves, and thus have a direct bearing on what we feel is possible at any given time. These aspects, taken together, suggest to me the revolutionary potential of taking back our attention.