In a time of severe political strife in America, a rare show of bipartisanship occurred in the aftermath of the white nationalist march in Charlottesville, Virginia. Democrats and Republicans alike denounced the white, tiki-torch-carrying racists while lambasting Donald Trump for his, at best, tepid remarks against the Nazi sympathisers.

Trump argued that there were “many sides” to the turmoil, a comment that worked in defence of the racists. He issued stronger language two days later about “evil” before unleashing a day after that what we can only surmise are his true feelings about “very fine people” in the hate-mongering crowd.

For his political foes and allies, condemning the violence, bile and rhetoric about the death of a woman last weekend isn’t courageous – it’s basic decency. Even when it was not wearing white Ku Klux Klan robes, the racism was blatant.

White supremacy is more than overt displays of racial hatred as seen in the last few days. It is a system in which white people dominate others and dominate society. They are the default setting, if you like. They hold the power, even if unwillingly. Institutional racism means that even if a white individual does not embrace a white supremacist view, it’s very likely that person benefits from the rigged system.

A swift social media response to the images out of Charlottesville was #thisisnotus. Oh yes it is. America’s original sin is racism. For black people need look no further than slavery, to Jim Crow laws, to segregation, to today’s not-so-invisible hands guiding housing and education policy, the wage gap, health disparities, how banks give loans. One could also add police brutality, food insecurity and disinvestment in black and brown communities.

White supremacy makes up the very fabric of the United States. Racial terror and violence are a central part of our story. An interesting exercise is to compare footage of last weekend’s racial attacks and that of the 1960s. At first glance, the only real difference is that the latter was filmed in black and white.

Beyond our wider, deeper, societal issues, what has been particularly odd is how surprised many have been in the past week by Trump’s response and his implicit nod to white supremacist groups. The idea that he was a blustery political neophyte, rough around the edges, who would clean up his racial language once in the White House has never made any sense. Up until Friday, ultra-rightwing media executive white nationalist Steve Bannon served as White House chief strategist.

Trump hardly hid what kind of president he would be on racial matters - he publicly revealed to the nation his leanings for decades

But I’ll tell you who’s not surprised by Trump’s actions – black people, especially black women: 94% of black women voted for Hillary Clinton, the highest figure among any demographic.

Maya Angelou, the African American poet, memoirist and civil rights activist, once said: “When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.” Trump hardly hid what kind of president he would be on racial matters – he publicly revealed to the nation his leanings for decades. Indeed, he jumped into the political fray via “birtherism”, the absurd conspiracy theory that questioned President Barack Obama’s citizenship. Trump swung from one media outlet to another declaring Obama’s birth certificate was fake, therefore disqualifying him for president. He gained traction, by disparaging the country’s first black president with a fanciful and noxious allegation.

Trump curated his own reality-show existence on television. He has consistently used mass media to hype his position as a New York property developer. And in this context, of his shaping of himself, he may have dated interracially and hobnobbed with black celebrities but in his business he was no stranger to racial conflict.

In 1973, the US Justice Department sued Trump and his father for alleged racial discrimination in their New York housing developments. They settled the case but African Americans said the Trumps would not rent them apartments. In 1989, the same year he had a cameo along with Trump Tower in a 1989 music video for R&B singer Bobby Brown, the future president took out full-page newspaper ads demanding the return of the death penalty. A white woman was raped and beaten in Central Park. Five black and Hispanic men were accused. Their convictions were overturned after DNA evidence vindicated them. But there was no public apology from Trump.

Later, on the presidential campaign trail, Trump threw no shortage of racial daggers. Mexicans were described as “bad hombres”, “rapists” and “criminals”. He chose “hell” as a way of painting black and Latino urban neighbourhoods. He often picks on Chicago, my hometown – and Obama’s – as a pit of crime. All the while, he maintains the rhetorical position that he is the “least racist person that you’ve ever encountered”. This is a man, it needs to be remembered, who refused to denounce white nationalist David Duke.

The president’s words and positioning have real repercussions. The month following Trump’s November 2016 election, the Southern Law Poverty Center reported more than 1,000 bias-related incidents. Trump didn’t commit these acts, but the culture of white discontent and racism he fanned created a welcoming climate for them. The report said: “37% of all incidents directly referenced either president-elect Donald Trump, his campaign slogans, or his infamous remarks about sexual assault.”

In office, Trump has tried to ban Muslims, build a wall to keep out Mexicans and now pushes the belief that Confederate monuments are about southern US heritage instead of harbingers of racial terror mostly erected after the south lost slavery in the civil war.

Ultimately, the thing about white supremacy is that it is not just yelling “nigger” or “Jews go home”. Standing up against that and Charlottesville is obvious. But racism is often less conspicuous. Inequity is visible in America but it often seems like just a way of life, the way we are.

Trump and the emboldening of white nationalist groups are on the same timeline. The racial climate is forcing hard conversations, uncomfortable truths and, to be honest, a lot of fear about what comes next.

When white people ask me what to do about race, I urge them to talk to other white people, their white friends, their white family members. White people built white supremacy. They have to play a part in dismantling it.

Natalie Y Moore is a reporter for WBEZ Chicago public radio and author of The South Side: A Portrait of Chicago and American Segregation