Damned Whiteness: How White Christian Allies Failed the Black Freedom Movement

by David F. Evans

The memory of the long civil rights movement often celebrates white men and women who drew on their religious faith to support Black demands for racial justice. However, the visions and actions of these leaders and their organizations often conflicted with those of Black leadership. While Black activists fought for a broad vision of freedom, white allies focused more narrowly on cultivating interracial friendship, marching in parallel to Black movement leaders rather than alongside them.

Damned Whiteness offers an unflinching history of white-led efforts at interracial organizing gone astray. Considering the examples of Dorothy Day, cofounder of the Catholic Worker Movement; Clarence Jordan, spiritual father of Habitat for Humanity; and Ralph Templin, a Christian missionary who studied nonviolence in Gandhi’s India, David F. Evans reveals how religious white progressives inherited strategies that remained disconnected from the ideas and actions of Black communities. These disconnects have often been cloaked as disagreements over religious doctrine and practice, but Evans reveals how they stem from refusals to acknowledge Black leaders' philosophies and freedom dreams. Though these patterns persist, Evans offers a way out of this legacy of white allyship and into a future where freedom is possible.

302 pages, Hardcover

Published October 28, 2025

Reviews

[Rob · Rating 4 out of 5]

David Evans offers a compelling analysis of the failure of interracial collaborations during the civil rights era. His analysis is centered on three so-called “white allies,” Catholic Dorthy Day, Southern Baptist Clarence Jordan, and Methodist Ralph Templin. I note the Christian denomination of each because each was not just nominally Christian, but defined by how they attempted to live out their Christian faith. Jordan and Templin were ordained clergy. This means their primary goal was not racial justice or racial reconciliation. Each of Dr. Evans’ subjects’ primary goal and primary definition was the appropriate practice of living Christianly.
Of course, it is impossible to be faithful to Christ in an unjust society. Twentieth century was systemically unjust with black Americans denied the rights enjoyed by white Americans. The ending of slavery in the 19th century changed the dynamics of this society-wide injustice but did not end it. The injustice took on new form in the Jim Crow era, the first half of the 20th century, and the “Great Migration” of blacks headed north to escape Jim Crow and see opportunity, further altered the dynamics. Still the injustice remained. The Civil Rights era legislation brought more change, but did not lead to a socially just society.
In the 21st century, black Americans have achieved success at nearly all levels of American life, including the presidency. Still poverty metrics, education outcomes, legal outcomes, and other metrics all show that it is still far easier to succeed in America is one is lucky enough to be of European-descent. There are built in advantages, sometimes referred to as the “invisible backpack”, white people have, whether we acknowledge it or not.
Evans’ work is an exceptional commentary on this history. “Damned Whiteness” would be an outstanding companion piece to lengthier civil rights history, like Garrow’s “Bearing the Cross.” The author offers detail and well-reasoned arguments for his critique of the work of Day and Jordan. It is clear why they were less than sufficient as allies, while Templin was closer to white ally of black freedom should be.
Of the many examples Evans, the most obvious and oft-repeated, is that white allies and black freedom fighters had different goals. White allies sought integration and interracial friendship. These were ultimate goals. In Jordan’s case, this even meant non-resistance in the face of unrelenting, abusive, systemic racism. Freedom fighters on the other hand, were not seeking friendship or inclusion with white people per se. Freedom fighters wanted an American society where black people could participate with full equality. Self-determination was the key phrase in defining the black freedom fighter’s goal. Evans is strong in his presentation of this point throughout the book and especially in his treatment of Stokley Carmichael in chapter 7. Day and Jordan failed as allies because they failed to fight for black self-determination, and in Jordan’s case actively resisted any kind public resistance to racism. Templin on the other became the rare white person to embrace “black power,” and be welcomed into (or at least not kicked out of) black power circles.
The issue boils down to what one is seeking. White readers, like me, need to pay attention to this. We come wanting to be friends, wanting racial reconciliation, and wanting an integrated world. Our black neighbors, having been victimized over generations by systemic injustice, are seeking socially, politically, legally mandated equality and justice. Maybe a truly just and hospitable world will yield friendship, reconciliation, and integrated unity, but the black person is not impressed by those things while injustice remains the prevailing ethos. White allies able to speak nice sentiments about integration and inclusion, and then beat hasty retreats back to protected spaces where we need not deal with the daily oppressions of systemic racism. In the battle for a more racially just society, white people have privilege of taking a day off. Black people don’t always have that same privilege.
David Evans strikes a chord in pointing out the discrepancy of white participation verses black participation in the battle for racial justice. He does it by thoroughly reporting the history of blacks and whites in the struggle. White people, like me, should read his work vulnerably. It’s not easy, but I think it is necessary for our own souls. Repentance can only come when we know the sinfulness of the system, we’re in, and how we benefit from it. I don’t think we fight for racial justice for the sake of racial justice. We fight for racial justice because our world is unjust, we whites too often benefit from the injustice, and thus we our systemic sin comes between us and God. Evans quotes Clarence Jordan as saying that black and white Americans need the God movement because it is “a greater and deeper movement than the civil rights movements” (Damned Whiteness, p.169). I agree with Jordan’s sentiment completely. However, I don’t think it is truly possible to participate in the God movement while remaining indifferent to racial injustice. Whites who try, are failed allies (Evans) and imprisoned by whiteness (Templin). So, in coming to grips with my sin, as a white person, I must recognize systemic injustice, repent, and work for change.
Working for change hits on conversation that demands in depth treatment I won’t give here. How does one distinguish between allyship, solidarity, and empowerment? Evans’ analysis leads him away from allyship toward solidarity, which he believes is empowering. I accept that conclusion, with this caveat. A lot of people, black and white, aren’t interested in racial politics at all. In the 2024 presidential election in the United States, the black candidate, Kamala Harris, lost 10% of the black vote to a known racist, Donald Trump. She received about 80% of the black vote, whereas Joe Biden receive 90% of the black vote in 2020. Of course, black voters are not obligated to vote Democratic. It can be assumed that those who opted for Trump instead of Harris were voting what they perceived to be their own self-interest. That in and of itself is empowering. That these empowered voters chose a misogynist, racist is disappointing but also telling. Were those voters motivated by something other than black empowerment, or were they exercising black empowerment?
The other consideration for me is the nature of the struggle for racial justice in America. On the 2020 census 15.7% of respondents identified themselves neither black nor white, but some other race. The racial justice conversation is not and never has been simply black and white. Thus, while the categories of “white ally” and “black freedom fighter” make sense, they only tell part of the story. It is myopic for blacks and whites to have a conversation about race that ignores 15-16% of the people in America.
I conclude by recommending that you read David Evans’ “Damned Whiteness.” White readers, read vulnerably. All readers, read critically. You’ll have a fuller sense of the 20th century civil rights struggle in America, and you’ll be stimulated to understand what role you can play in working for a more just world.

[Nichola Torbett · Rating 4 out of 5]

Really useful history for aspiring white antiracist accomplices, especially those of us with connections to Christianity.