Using LinkedIn made me racist, though I didn't notice. A year ago, I was much likelier to accept some people over others based on looks alone. (Pretty much as in the headline picture.)

Of course, this is racist. It’s also sexist. I was far, far likelier to accept a woman than a man.

But before you’re too quick to call me a monster, here’s why:

When I started using LinkedIn, I was a young teenager and very sheltered. I had no experience with cat-calling or online harassment. Today, I’ve been hit on and pursued in the most disgusting, offensive, and sometimes scary ways, both online and offline. “Nice a**, babe,” is a good day.

Listen guys (it’s always guys), LinkedIn is not a dating site. It’s not Tinder. Why do you have to be a jerk?

After hundreds and hundreds of requests (I’m an open-ish networker with about 3K connections), my mind started making assumptions about people. I couldn’t help it. I was not actively collecting data, but there was so much of it and my subconscious was.

Basically, if you catch a cold after eating a chocolate-chip ice-cream cone, you’re not going to blame the flavor. But if you catch a cold seven times and each time you ate chocolate chip ice-cream the night before, you’re going to be wary of chocolate-chip. Even though you know the flavor has nothing to do with it.

After a couple of years of LinkedIn, I started to notice flavors. There was a breed of straight-haired white woman professional who never responded to messages. There was a breed of old conservative white male with “open networker” on their profile. Black women, on average, were friendly. Black men, on average, were respectful and sweet. East Asian men never hit on me.

And then there were Indian and Middle-Eastern men. The chocolate-chip. They often sent creepy messages or would follow “How are u?” with “U should be my gf.”

So I started scrutinizing the profiles of brown men from India and the UAE, where I would otherwise accept an African American or white female profile without even looking at it. I just didn’t have time to check everyone’s work experiences or summaries.

For the months I did this, things got a lot better. Many white and brown men whose profiles I clicked on, judged, and accepted ended up being nice, smart, and interesting people. I had few to no creepy requests (most were from white men I hadn’t vetted enough) and I did not feel like I’d missed connecting to anyone interesting.

I also, sadly, didn’t even realize I was doing this.

Most people don’t. The Harvard Implicit Bias test – and take it if you haven’t yet! – has shown that most people are at least slightly racist, though they don't think they are.

Here’s the thing, though: We’re not born that way. I was pretty sheltered from race stereotypes as a home-schooled kid in the Bay Area with a diverse friend circle.

But as adults, we live in a different world. College professors are more likely to respond to queries from white students than from Asians or blacks. White people think lighter-skinned people are more intelligent and more competent. Black men are arrested more and are sentenced to prison longer. And here I am: uncomfortable with accepting connection requests from Indian men.

This really bothers me. As a cybersecurity and national security law student and as a nerd, I get why my friend groups are so monochromatic and male. It is the world I am in, much as it is a world I am trying to change. I wish I had more Indian friends of both sexes, because I’m Indian and I’m sure we’d have a lot in common. I wish I had more Middle-Eastern friends. I wish people would stop questioning if I’m American enough (or if President Obama is American enough), just because we have tan skin.

My hope is that if we can learn to be racist, we can unlearn it.

So, hard as it is to catch subconscious behaviors, I’m actively preventing myself from letting racial and gender bias affect my contacts anymore. I accept all LinkedIn invites from people I don’t know if the profile has:

1. One human face, facing the camera.

2. A professional-ish photo.

3. A capitalized name.

4. A grammatically correct, succinct byline describing a real profession.

I don't check someone's profile in detail just because something "seems off."

Today, I waste a bit of time blocking people I’ve accepted or unfriending people who spam me. Inappropriate requests are up. It was, frankly, a lot easier to just judge people by clothing, gender, and race.

But I’m happy knowing I’m doing the right thing now.

What do you think? Do you stereotype people based on things as terrible as race and gender? How are you working towards a less racist future? Comment below!

#studentvoices #millennials #racism

Isvari is a LinkedIn Campus Editor, writes business columns for The Boston Globe, composes pop music, and is a Global Law Scholar at Georgetown Law. Her novel, The Eyes of Mikra, is about a spy with amnesia who's figured everything out about the war she's fighting, but nothing about who she really is. Available, like everything else, on Amazon.