You’re right. I don’t get it. I’m white, married to a white man, with white kids.
I don’t get it. I don’t feel what you feel. I don’t always see the judgement because I’m not on the receiving side. I don’t know what it feels like to be judged for the color of my skin. I don’t understand.
I see color. I always have, and I think it’s beautiful all the shades that God has created. I see color because God made us that way, and in fact, my God came to earth as a man of color, Middle Eastern, dark-skinned, and so very not-white. I treasure it and I have always loved learning more, about you, about cultures other than my own, and all the things you can teach me. I’m not here saying we’re “all the same” because I believe in the beauty of diversity.
Do I understand all the anger and rage at the recent (and not recent) deaths of innocent African Americans in the last few months? Not the same way you do, but please know I have shed tears for you, for your families, for your children.
Do I understand how harming other innocent people, burning businesses/private properties of our neighbors, and destroying historical monuments and even children’s playgrounds help promote peace and create healthy conversations about racial reconciliation? No. I don’t. I don’t pretend to know what you feel and how this feels justified.
Do you want us to know your fear? To know the terror? The injustice, pain, loss? I can wrap my head around that, although I don’t know how adding brokenness to brokenness ever brings health and healing. I don’t know why we ever feel destruction brings peace, why we think rage will produce forgiveness, or believe hate ever promotes love.
Call me privileged. That’s ok. I know I am the product of white privilege. A product of spiritual, emotional, and sexual abuse, I would still call myself privileged in never having experienced racial prejudice. I don’t know what it feels like to be judged for my skin color.
I don’t bring up my experiences and things I’ve been through to lessen the pain you’ve been through but to say I do know brokenness, evil, abuse of power, oppression, and rage, and it comes in all forms.
I’m so sorry you’re hurting and angry.
I’m so sorry you’re feeling the brokenness of this world in such a personal way.
I’m hurting for you, and I don’t know how to fix it—I can’t fix it all—but I want to help.