Dear Black People,
I’ve written and re-written this letter many different times in many different ways. Every single iteration falling wildly short of the breadth of what needs to be said. Words fail, time passes with so much left unsaid, good intentions paving the road to hell and this letter stays unwritten. But today is the day Black People. If I miss the mark and this letter falls flat on it’s stupid face, so be it. Another innocent black human life was ended by another police bullet. And if I am bone tired of it, how you must feel is beyond my comprehension. So today has to be the day that I say with every fiber of my body, I am sorry. I know it’s not enough. I know it doesn’t bring anybody back or make your day any safer. I know that living in this greedy, myopic country that has built itself on your backs, on your soulfulness, on your immeasurable contributions, both given and taken, has driven everyone of you to desperation and needless heartbreak. And I am sorry.
Like so many white people, I feel helpless in the face of this insanity. But not nearly as helpless as you feel when a cop hits his lights, I reckon. So please understand that I am well aware of my blindness. A reality that you’ve been dealing with for a hundred years, this sick abuse of whiteness, this fucking disgusting flexing of police muscle, is the greatest embarrassment that this country will ever know. I need you to know that I see this. That I will do everything I can to make sure that everyone around me sees this. I want you to feel safe. You deserve to feel safe. You deserve to feel loved by your land. You deserve to stand tall in your shoes, knowing that this world is better because of your blackness, your humanness. And it is. And I am sorry that you have ever spent a single second in this backwards ass reality.
Yes, I wrote this to say that I am sorry. That I am ashamed of what has been done by the people that share my skin. And yes, I wrote this to tell you that I will keep fighting to make you feel safe, no matter how little I can truly grasp, I will continue to battle those that would see you held down. I know that it is a small comfort, a pathetic little. And though I may be late to the game, I will to play my heart out. I will be your warrior. Even if it’s a drop in a massive bucket. I am your ally.
As much as this is an apology, it is also a letter of appreciation. I need you to know that I see you. I know what you’ve contributed to this world. Your grace under fire, your resilience, your faith, your art, your music, your beauty. These things that you have brought to the table are nothing short of magic and I offer my deepest gratitude. Perhaps someday we will be worthy of it.
A White Person