Kicking the Can

Hello, friends.

I hope this post finds you well.

I need a moment to clear my head, so I hope you don't mind listening for a bit.  My heart is so heavy right now. My head is hurting, my eyes keep tearing up, and my very soul is churning.  Now is not a great time in history to have anxiety. Those of us with it are not okay, so check on your friends, alright?

I've written this blog in my head three times already. I've physically written it. I've thought about it enough to write it five times. The simple fact is that talking about hard things is not something that I enjoy. Oh, I'll get mad enough to tell my poor husband all about it, but I have a really difficult time writing it for the world to see. So, please bear with me.

Many of you reading this did not know me when I was growing up, so I'd like to set the stage for you just a bit before I tell you my story. We were poor when I was growing up. Government cheese kind of poor. It was a hard existence, but my parents managed to do the best they could. We weren't sleeping on the streets, and for that alone, I'm exceedingly grateful. I tell you this because I want you to understand where I and many others began life. Our lives seemed to be the farthest from privileged that you could get. Of course, I know that so many have it worse, but as a child, it left a mark on me.

From those beginnings to just a few years ago, I never EVER would have imagined that someone would have called my life privileged.

I was wrong.

So, here I sit with this incongruous knowledge of my past and my privilege, my WHITE privilege, and it's breaking me. I'm tearing up just thinking about it. How can life have been so hard, and yet so privileged? Well, I had to break it down for myself, so I guess I'll break it down for you, too.

Our family was never denied housing because of the color of our skin. We were free to shop and live in our community without being harassed because of the color of our skin. We never had anyone try to drive us from our home because of the color of our skin. I was never pulled over after I began to drive because of the color of my skin. I was never made fun of because of the color of my skin. I was never laughed at for applying to college because of the color of my skin. I was never chased out of church because of the color of my skin. I was never denied access to vote because of the color of my skin. I was never followed through a store because of the color of my skin. My family never thought of me as less because of the color of my skin. I was never assumed to be a criminal because of the color of my skin.

Quite simply, the American Dream existed for us because of the color of our skin, whether we were poor or not. If we could afford to do it, we could do it. And, my family DID do it. My parents worked hard and lifted our family out of the poverty of my youth. They worked so very hard for that, and I'm grateful. They raised four kids that graduated high school and went either to college or the military. While my parents are not wealthy, they managed to own a home and raise four children in America. That is the American Dream: Freedom to do what you want with your own life. We were so privileged, and it breaks me.

So, 2020 being what it is, I have had a great deal of time to do nothing but think, watch tv, and scroll social media. I have seen people die for doing simple things that I take for granted every day. I can exercise in public, I can go to the store, I can even go home and sleep without fear of attack. My children can leave the house, and I don't fear that they will not return. How my heart aches, friends, for those moms who cannot say the same. The American Dream does not exist for them. It has turned into a nightmare.

So, what do we do with this information? As I see it, we really only have three choices.

1. We can pretend that we don't know the truth, and go on living life as it always has been.
2. We can acknowledge the truth and vow to do better going forward.
3. We can actively fight for the equality of our black brothers and sisters. They need white voices to help carry the message and burden of their battle. It's been a long battle, and they're tired. In whatever capacity we are capable of helping, we should.

I'd just like to end this by saying that we all have to come to terms with racism in our own lives and homes. You might not even be overtly racist, but just deny your privilege like I had been doing. Until we can all be honest with ourselves, nothing is ever going to change. Until white people admit that there is a problem, the problem will only get worse, and we will be kicking the can down the road for future generations to solve. Won't they have enough problems without inheriting ours? It's time to do something about systemic racism in our homes and in our nation. Enough is enough.