This post is not about roaming.
It’s about racism. Writing these words I wonder whether I have anything of value to say, and whether I have any right to speak on this topic.
I’m a privileged white straight woman. I have a good job, a wonderful family, financial stability, and safety. I have long considered myself an “ally” but now realize I had no idea what that even meant.
Confronting the poison of racism in myself is scary, painful, and hard. That doesn’t matter one bit. It’s necessary, and my pain is absolutely nothing compared to the pain lived daily by BIPOC.
I’ve been reading a lot of comments on Next Door about a racist note left on the door of a vacationing Black family in my small Texas town. The comments range from horrified and shamed to defensive and belligerent. I think all the comments have been by white people, who comprise most of our town’s population. Some of them deny that such a thing as systemic racism even exists.
I’ve also been reading Glennon Doyle’s treasure of a book, Untamed, and yesterday read the chapter titled Racist. Doyle, a white woman, has the courage to confront her own racism and acknowledge the way racism contaminates the very air we breathe. We’ve all been contaminated, and it’s our job to find the poison in ourselves and get rid of it. Her words are helping me work through this process. I wish everyone in the U.S. would read her book; if that happened, I believe our country would begin to heal. She urges us to not perform, as I’ve done for many years, but to transform. That’s what I’m trying to do now. Only then will I be a true ally.
I’m working to improve.