I cried...
Saturday, May 30, 2020
At 5am, I finally cried.
After checking the news feed while awake pre-dawn, seeing the fires burning across the country and having mixed feelings that only come when one is safely removed from events… I laid back down.
The cat was on my shoulder and the blankets a bit stuffy, my allergies acting up and I thought, “ugh, I can’t breathe.”
And ALL my fucking white privilege hit me smack in the face and I realized those words would NEVER be ok to say offhand again.
I cried.
Not out of sorrow or grief or worry or pain…but out of GUILT.
I realized how much of a hypocritical ass I have been. How easily removed I was over the events of years past. I have felt the usual anger and disgust at the state of racism in America, the senseless killings and acquittals and cries for justice… but somehow thought I was above it.
It was not ME. I’M not the racist.
I cried when I realized I AM no better than the racists … BECAUSE I believed I wasn’t like them.
…
Growing up a middle class white girl in Oakland, California, I thought because I was used to diversity I was all good. So what if my mother from Mississippi said some things I still remember and cringe at now? My dad was one of those guys who would strike up a conversation with anyone, regardless of their race. I thought I was safe because I adopted that same geniality. I thought because I knew many people growing up from different cultures. I was “open minded,” sure.
My teenage daughter came out early being gay, and I was the mom who embraced all her LGBT friends and accepted them as their parents struggled. I had to ask a lot of questions and learn about pronouns, but I learned how to be an Ally. Again, I thought I was cool, that I held none of that hatred in me.
…
But I look back on certain jokes I have made, words I have used that have no business being in my mouth. I see that I have allowed myself a complacency. Just because I love me some black folks does not mean I am free of the inherent racism that is insidious as a silent disease.
It has been so fucking normalized to judge others by their skin. To stereotype and discount others’ experiences based on their “otherness” or even the belief that they are “less than.” It is the Quiet Racism we have to watch out for. The racism that dwells in the shadows of our hearts and poisons our thoughts.
And again, as I write this, I cry.
I want to open myself up to the difficult conversations. To ask questions that may sound insensitive but are really born out of ignorance. I want to truly be there for my black brothers and sisters, as well as my Native American, Jewish, Muslim, and other marginalized friends and strangers. It is about shifting the thoughts in our minds to use different language. It is about really LIVING that mantra of “We are ALL One” and fighting our own inner nature to separate and see boundaries instead of inclusion.
I want to be better than I have been. I welcome the change.
= new reply since forum marked as read
When the one black woman (a beautiful artist, a retired professional ballerina) in my book club spoke during our Tuesday Zoom, she'd been dealing with emotions and insomnia over the Amy Cooper video. Then she woke up on Tuesday and saw the video of George Floyd's death and lost it.
During our Zoom she kept looking away, struggling with emotion. At one point she said while she didn't have black kids of her own to worry about, it had made her fear for her brothers, all professional black men in their 60s whose skin was much darker than her own. I got a glimpse of her fear for them.
I could tell she was holding back some too lest we not accept her anger ("angry black woman"
and fear of a degree of white fragility on the part of some of us.
In trying to be part of a conversation around DEI (diversity, equity, and inclusion) in an organization I am part of, I couldn't get words out around the sobbing.
I know my pain is a fraction of what my black friend is experiencing. But to have a beautiful human being created in the image of God treated instead like despicable trash, hurts my soul. And it happens over and over again. The videos of those being arrested for sleeping or studying or playing a game at home while being black, or verbally abused in all kinds of situations, causes me to feel some degree of the anguish my friend feels.
I havent checked anything live yet...almost afraid to 
