A few days ago, I took a picture of the blossoms on our pear tree with intent to post on Instagram. I didn’t get around to posting that day and planned to share sometime later in the week.
Then the internet exploded. Ahmaud Arbery. Christian Cooper. Breonna Taylor. George Floyd. Protests. Violence. Police brutality. Racism.
My blossom picture became insignificant.
My heart was so heavy on Friday, but I didn’t know how to convey it. I didn’t know how to join this conversation that I have – in full honesty, humility, and shame – have shied away from in years past. Yes, racism is utterly wrong, I would think to myself, but…
No more but’s.
I don’t know why George Floyd’s death has ignited something in me when there have been too many others before him, but I can no longer be silent. I can no longer stand by. I can no longer be complicit.
Black lives matter.
I wanted to do something tangible that Friday afternoon. A social media post wouldn’t cut it. I didn’t want my contribution to be merely performative, something I can pat myself on the back for and move on. I did what was most feasible in that moment – I donated to Mr. Floyd’s memorial fund. I signed a few petitions. I followed more Black voices on Instagram. I added a few books on this subject to my Goodreads list.
But is it enough? Will it ever be enough?
My understanding of race and white privilege have evolved in the last few years. I’ve learned about critical race theory and marginalization and othering. I can explain oppression in binary terms, and that, according to this structure, women of color are the most oppressed group. I understand that systematic racism and white supremacy are deeply imbedded in a Western worldview.
I have academic knowledge but no real-world experience.
And I will never get real-world experience because I am a white woman. I will never fully understand racism. I will never fully understand the inequalities that people of color face on a daily basis.
I don’t feel qualified to write this and share it. By doing this, I’m making this tragedy about me. It’s not about me at all. It’s about the hurt and anger of the Black community. It’s about amplifying Black voices. My heart aches for Mr. Floyd’s family and every life that has ever been flipped upside by racism and police brutality. I grieve with you, but I know my grief pales in comparison to what people of color feel and have felt for centuries.
As a Christian, this is my duty. I cannot be passive or turn a blind eye in the face of racial injustice and corruption.
Racism is sin. Every single person is made in the image of God. To hate, mistreat, or judge a person solely based on the color of their sin is to do the same to God.
So, I write all this to say that I’m sorry for not lending my voice sooner. For not listening to Black voices. For not actively advocating against racism. This journey will not be perfect. I will make mistakes. Please – correct me when I am wrong. Tell me when I’ve said something racist or insensitive. I will do my best to educate myself.
I have been bookmarking sources that have helped me and I’m going to share a few below that I hope help you as well.
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