I don’t know how to begin this post.

Should I start with “I’m sorry?”

Perhaps I should explain my absence or refer you to my social media?

I really don’t know.

I always strive to make my posts provocative and pleasing to the senses, but does that really matter here?

This post will be long, but I hope you will find it full of information you can digest and pass on to your loved ones. Because it’s truly important. In fact, it’s critical.

It shouldn’t have taken the murder of George Floyd or a social media movement like #amplifymelanatedvoices to inspire my self-reflection.

Nor should it have taken conversations with Black friends and bloggers to compel me to question my own intentions and complicity.

But here we are.

I will not offer excuses. I have long recognized my own privilege and the injustices in our society, but I haven’t done enough.

I have said this and I have posted images of that but I have still contributed to the overbearing and crushing reality that racism is alive and well and defining much of society’s narrative.

I’m deeply and profusely sorry.

For inserting my own opinion and defense when I should have simply listened.

For not educating myself enough (or asking for “free” resources when I’m capable of doing the research on my own) and for consuming too little diversity in the books I read, the films I watch, the restaurants I dine at, and the art I admire.

I’m sorry for not calling out relatives and strangers when I witness a racist statement or action—because I’m too “tired” of controversy or “overwhelmed” with the back-and-forth of arguments that seem to end in hurt feelings, unchanged minds, and refortified defenses.

My feelings aren’t relevant right now. Neither are yours, white brothers and sisters.

To be a true ally, and to wholly unravel my opinions and understandings of the past, present, and future, I must be willing to be uncomfortable.

I must be willing to shoulder the pain and discomfort caused by a history of white supremacist views, because without true empathy, any call to action I share, and any photo I post to my social media or sign I display in my yard, is empty.

image by Sacrée Frangine (@sacree_frangine)

No, it shouldn’t have taken the deaths of Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, George Floyd, and the countless other Black men, women, and children who have died at the hands of white supremacy (some of you may be tired of seeing that phrase—white supremacy—but to call it anything else is a lie), or the encouragement of Black creators to diversify the content we consume—but I’m here now.

I was quick to participate in the call to action to silence my own thoughts for a week and boost the content of Black creators. A little too quick, honestly, because I frantically searched and shared until my eyes were strained.

It’s not about me or my image (look up the term “performative activism”).

It’s not about proving that I am “one of the good guys” because that, in itself, is a self-motivated endeavor.

Sprinting is unsustainable long term, and I am here to train for and complete the marathon.

I am making an effort to educate myself. I’ve compiled some websites, social feeds, and educational resources of many Black creators and activists, but I’m searching for more. I’d love for you to share any resources you have in the comments.

And one last thing. I know (from experience) that is easy to step back, to give into the notion that what we say, as white individuals, doesn’t matter. That we can justify our silence by leaving the conversation to the Black community. Or that we will inevitably say the wrong thing.

That, however, is an excuse.

It is essential that we elevate and amplify the voices of the Black community—and that we sit back, listen, and comprehend what those voices are saying—but, to tear apart and reconstruct the system that has long benefited and promoted “whiteness,” we can’t be silent.

Silence is complicity.

Saying the imperfect thing is better than saying nothing.

So, please. Be mindful of how you approach those who aren’t ready to take part in the conversation, but don’t be silent. As allies, we will grow tired. And frustrated. But just imagine the weariness and anger of those who live the effects of racism every. single. day.

image by Brandy Chieco (@brandychieco)

Black Lives Matter: AntiRacism Resources

Where to Donate

Tip: Don’t feel pressured to donate to *every* organization on this list. Read through the platforms of these agencies and projects, and give what you can afford to the cause that resonates most with you. Then support the others by sharing their content and calls to action with your family and peers. You may also wish to find local (to your city) branches or nonprofits to support instead. This is just a starting point.