I Am the Problem

Just because we do not own our whiteness does not negate our brothers’ Blackness.

You see, we pretend we’ve been born blind.

But really we’ve refused to look again and again and again and again, until our fossilized eyes came to be defined as 20/20 vision.

The white way to look at things became the right way to see the world.

Our Black friends are tired of our friendships being the shields behind which we hide our racism and lies. Let’s call it what it is. 

We join complex conversations with our ready hand of answers, quick to slap our Trump cards on the table, to close out this crisis so we can move on to the next. 

We say “I am not the problem.”

We are quick to point fingers and so slow to confess, as it means we must undress and bear our shame before the world.

To own our sin means to own their pain. 

It hurts too much to Say Their Names.

Why is our shame so hard to share?

Because it’s not just our shame, it’s our father’s shame, and our grandfather’s shame, and our great-grandfather’s shame, and our great-great-grandfather’s shame, and on and on and on for decades on decades on decades of shame over what we’ve done.

And why is their pain so hard for our Black brothers and sisters to bear?

Because it’s not just their pain that they bear, it’s their father’s pain, and their grandfather’s pain, and their great-grandfather’s pain, and their great-great-grandfather’s pain, and on and on and on for decades on decades on decades of pain that cuts deeper than whites could ever imagine. 

Why then do we berate the broken when they cry out for justice?

We ask our Black brothers and sisters — tired of hearing their cries — why do you continue to hold on to this? 

And they answer “We cannot grieve and let go of the past as long as you continue to wound us in the present. As long as you continue to pile hurt on hurt and hate on hate.”

As long as white people continue to buy into the lie that our Black brothers and sisters deserve to die, the daily sin of our corrupt system will continue to condemn their innocent lives. 

White silence is the scarlet letter that signals we are the ones to blame.

I am the problem.

//