Be the change that you wish to see in the world. –Mahatma Gandhi

These last few weeks have been weird ones for me. Or maybe, more accurately, they’ve been weird ones for all of us. I actually had this blog planned for a couple of weeks and I just couldn’t really find the right words to describe how I was feeling.

Racism: what a thing to discuss. I can hear my own dad saying, “Why don’t you write about something positive? Something people actually want to read about?” But maybe that’s part of our problem. It’s a subject that no one wants to broach; but the reality is that our minority population is screaming to be heard.

I was so moved by something a good friend of mine, engaged to a black man, had shared on social media. I’m paraphrasing but it was something along the lines of “Running while black isn’t a crime,” and I remembered I had heard that “joke” somewhere before. It was pictured on a sweet little show called Parks and Recreation when Tom Haverford is having a stakeout with Leslie Knope. A cop walks up to the van and Tom says, “What’s my crime? Parking while Indian?”

Funny then, right? I know I laughed. But not so cute now considering how painfully accurate it is.

Shortly before the murder of Ahmaud Arbery, maybe two to three weeks before, I was respectfully hit on by a black man while I was working. Something that I specifically recall about the exchange was that he said (and again, I’m paraphrasing), “I don’t want to scare you but I didn’t want to let this moment go by without showing my appreciation for you.” He was extremely kind, respectful and unoffending so why exactly would I be scared?

Oooh, I know. Because he’s “black” and I’m “white”, because he’s a man and I’m a woman, and because this is racist America. I’ve got it. It’s kind of like whenever I say that my husband is South African and the person I’m talking to looks around to make sure no one is behind them and then whispers, “Is he black?”

Okay A, what an awful question and B, and if he was? What then? Because he’s “white” (half Portuguese, actually, but no one cares to even ask about that), he automatically gets a pass? That seems totally fair, right? Because white obviously equals not a threat.

(Just a sidebar: my abuser was literally the whitest person I know. Like, his grandmother was from England. But whatever, character assassinating him won’t help anyone. It is fun, though.)

Everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing himself. –Leo Tolstoy

The reality is that these words are hard to even write because anger fogs my mind. It can be difficult sometimes to speak eloquently about something that I think is stupid and disgusting. And what irritates me the most is the judgments I see from the people closest to me.

I absolutely was not raised to be racist. But I wasn’t raised not to be either. My parents were sort of indifferent to race; they had bigger things to worry about. My sister and I both had relationships with black and Latino men and it never seemed to bother them. Although those relationships were never serious enough to alarm my parents either.

There was one African American boy my sister dated in college that my parents weren’t wild about. But that’s because he was physically abusive; not because he was black.

I’d like to say my parent’s wouldn’t care but I never actually had to have that conversation. I would hope that they would care more about our happiness than the color of our significant other’s skin.

But unfortunately, the truth is that most people weren’t raised in homes like mine. While my parents never seemed to be inherently racist, there are some parents, and people, that are, for whatever reason. Maybe it’s that they base their opinions on one random encounter or their ancestors’ history. Maybe it’s that they fear things and people that they don’t understand. Or maybe they’ve just missed the memo that a person of color or mixed color is made up of the same genetic material as the rest of us.  

Or maybe it’s because they despise an entire race simply because it’s easier than acceptance. I didn’t really think that simply co-existing, which I believe to be the absolute bare minimum, was all that difficult. Especially when you realize how miniscule we really are in this universe.

But all this got me to thinking because as absolutely not racist as I obviously am, what difference was I really making? I was talking to my best friend about it and she said, “The people who just allow this and keep quiet are just as bad.” And that really struck me.

I’ve always sort of straddled the line between conservative and liberal, republican and democrat. I always called myself sort of a “conservative democrat” because I identify with values on both sides, if I’m honest. But as more time goes by, I’m not so sure that’s still accurate.

The things I was raised to not really worry about, things like race, guns, and equal rights for every person, suddenly keep me awake at night. The things I didn’t think much about before are suddenly on my mind all the time. I’ve always been in the middle of the spectrum and now I’m thinking that you really can’t be anymore.

Moral of the Crazy: I was once friends with this girl who sort of went through the same transformation I just talked about. I remember, back when I still tortured myself with Facebook, I simply liked a comment on a status that someone had posted. This aforementioned girl was engaging in one of those obnoxious Facebook arguments where everyone feels the need to contribute and the comment that I happened to like was one that was opposing her.

Immediately, she tagged me and wrote “Really?!” with like fourteen super offended exclamation points. I remember thinking it was a little aggressive that she called me out that way but I just let it go.

Then she deleted me. Then she blocked me. On all social media.

This was a person I grew up down the street from, a person I was in a wedding with (the bride in question followed suit and blocked me too, which I’m still a little bummed and confused about), and a person I even wrote a favorable blog about. And why was this happening?

I can only guess because obviously I’ve had no access to her for some time now. But my assumption is that I was showing my “loyalty” to a person she felt was supporting a racist idiot. And that was something that she just couldn’t tolerate. I guess she didn’t even care for an explanation.

For a long time, I didn’t understand and was actually kind of hurt. I figured she was just someone who had always been on a high horse and passing judgments, on me especially. And now was no different.

But now I understand. Because this situation seems to be an all or nothing thing. You’re either racist or you’re not. You either support racism or you don’t. You either allow the marginalization of other cultures, races, and individuals, or you don’t. You either incite hatred in others or you don’t.

I won’t talk about the specifics of the Arbery case because quite frankly, I don’t know them all. I’m a mom and I don’t have the time to sit and try to read every article ever written about it. I also don’t really care to hear other individuals’ opinions about what they think he was doing out jogging that morning or why those men came after him. And before any angry trolls come to attack me about facts, let me stop you right there.

Because none of it matters.

None of the details matter a single ounce. They are totally irrelevant.

Have you ever seen the movie (or read the book) A Time to Kill? Remember in the end when Jake Brigance asks the jury to close their eyes while he explains what happens to Carl Lee Hailey’s daughter? He goes into very vivid detail talking about what happened to her and moves them all to tears.

Then he says, “Now imagine she’s white.”

Because if she had been, well, this would have been a different story altogether.

I don’t care if he was jogging in a white neighborhood. I don’t care if he had a criminal history. I don’t care if he was rude to someone that one time. I don’t care if he burglarized six people in that neighborhood and stole all their liquor.

What merits a death sentence? Being chased down by a father and son (who, here’s a fact for you fact chasers, worked in local law enforcement) while jogging down the street? Why does someone else get to decide how and when that man’s life ended? And without immediate repercussions? Why is this the world we live in? Why is this acceptable?

I wish I could find the right words to alleviate all of this but the truth is, I’m not sure there are any. I find it shameful that in 2020, when we’ve had an African American president, when we see people everyday fighting for their rights to marry and receive spousal benefits, we are still dealing with something as disgusting as racism. What more does someone need to do to prove their right to simply exist in our country?

How do you fix something so broken as blind hatred?

I actually even had a little bit of reservation about writing and posting this blog given the area I live in and the silent groups that I know exist around here. I just pray that one day people don’t tell racist jokes or use racial slurs. I pray that one day we understand that in our souls, our hearts and our minds, we are all the same. I pray that one day people think less about race and more about humanity.

I pray that one day people act like their children are watching them.

And that’s all I can hope for our future.

Now imagine she’s white. –Jake Brigance, A Time to Kill