A calm voice can still do violence to the truth.

Racial gaslighting is what happens after the harm.

By Wayne Ince

a boiling pot of water

On July 6, 2024, Sonya Massey called 911 because she thought somebody was trying to hurt her. Sangamon County deputy Sean Grayson answered the call. Inside her own kitchen, Massey moved a pot of hot water off the stove after Grayson told her to. She said, “I rebuke you in the name of Jesus.” Grayson drew his pistol, shouted a threat, and fired three rounds. One hit her in the face. She died on her kitchen floor.

A jury convicted him of second-degree murder in October 2025. He drew the maximum sentence, 20 years, in January 2026. (AP NEWS)

Now watch what happened while her body was still warm.

She had a pot. She said something religious. But, she should not have moved. And, she should not have ducked. She should have complied faster, quieter, smaller. Somewhere between the 911 call and the trial, a lot of Americans stopped asking why a deputy shot an unarmed Black woman in her own home and started asking whether she gave him a reason.

Racial Gaslighting

That is racial gaslighting. And it does not need a badge or a body to work. Gaslighting is a tool that shifts blame and distorts reality.

A Black person names what they lived through. Somebody else, often calm, often smiling, tells them they got it wrong.

You misread the tone. You made it about race. And, you are too sensitive. Are you sure that is what he meant?

That is not a conversation. That is a second injury.

The first cut was the racism. The second cut is being told the cut never happened. And the second one is often the one that scars.

It’s not Magic

Here is the trick of it. The denial does not touch the harm. It shoves the harm sideways. Now the room is not talking about what somebody said or did. The room is talking about whether the Black person in front of them is reliable. Whether she is stable. Whether he is angry for no reason. And, whether they can be trusted to describe their own life. Whether she should have been holding that pot.

That is the whole play. Shift the subject. Put the person harmed on trial. Gaslighting often controls this narrative by putting doubt into the minds of victims and bystanders.

Look at what they now have to do. Explain it. Prove it. Walk it back through slow motion so somebody else can decide if it counts. Relive it in front of an audience that already wants a softer story. Perform their pain like evidence in a court that was never going to rule for them.

Meanwhile the person who caused the harm sits down. Sips water. Walks it back. Pockets a benefit of the doubt the person he hurt will never touch.

That is not an accident. That is the design.

The System

Racial gaslighting shields three things at once. It shields the person who caused the harm. It shields the comfort of everyone watching. And,iIt drills into Black people a habit of distrusting their own memory.

Notice how polite it can be. It rarely lands as a slur. It lands as concern. As curiosity. As a boss saying, well, let’s not jump to conclusions. And, as a friend saying, I know him, that is not who he is. As a coworker asking, are you sure you want to make this a whole thing. As a cable-news host asking why she picked up the pot.

Those sentences sound reasonable. That is why they work. Reasonableness is the uniform this kind of harm likes to wear. After all, gaslighting often comes wrapped in polite language and measured tones instead of open aggression.

But a reasonable tone does not cancel what the words are doing. A question used to minimize harm, deny racism, or force somebody to audit their own pain in real time is not a neutral question. It is part of the harm. Same jacket, different button. As you can see, Gaslighting goes beyond simple denial—it’s a manipulation of reality itself.

Watch Out

And here is the part that stings. A lot of the people running this play would swear they are anti-racist. They marched. Also, they posted. They read the book. And, they believe they are helping when they ask a Black colleague to slow down, calm down, consider other angles, or be careful before naming what just happened.

Anti-racism is not a mood. It is a practice. The practice starts with believing people. Not blindly. Not without conversation. But without demanding they hand over their dignity as a receipt.

Believing people is a discipline, especially when your first instinct pushes you to explain it away. Especially when the explanation would let you off the hook. Especially when the story they are telling makes your friend, your uncle, your favorite politician, or you look worse than you wanted to look this morning.

When your instinct after somebody names racism runs toward interrogating them instead of the moment, that instinct is worth studying. Slow it down. Track where it came from. Track who it protects.

Because there is a version of this country where a Black woman calls 911 and the deputy who shows up sees a scared human being instead of a threat. Where a Black woman can describe what happened to her at work and the room believes her the first time. Where a Black kid can tell his teacher what he heard in the hallway and the teacher does not open with, are you sure.

We are not living in that country yet. We are living in the one where the harm gets committed, then rewritten, then pinned on the person still bleeding. Sonya Massey did not shoot herself. But if you scrolled the comments in the days after, you would think the pot did. Clearly, Gaslighting plays a huge role in rewriting these stories.

You do not have to keep signing off on that draft.

Believe people. Sit with the discomfort. Do the harder work of confronting the person who caused the harm instead of the person carrying it.

That is the assignment. Everything else is gaslight in a nicer coat.

The pot is boiling

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