I hear you. I support you.

I wanted to share with you something that came through my inbox today that I found to be relatable, sincere, and a way to not stay silent, which to many is a part of the problem. Thank you Sean Croxton for your daily inspiration….

My life is different.

Never in my life have I been harassed by a police officer.

Not once.

I’ve never been pulled over for DWB, or Driving While Black.

I live in a big, fancy house in a very White neighborhood.

My mortgage is paid for with money I earn from predominantly White customers and clients.

I’ve never interviewed for a job that I didn’t get.

My family photo album is like the United Nations — Black, White, Mexican, Chinese.

My best friends come in all shades.

Like I said, my life is different.

The Black experience I see on the news and social media is not my personal experience. Not even close.

The racism I experience is more subtle. Like the cashier who says hi to every White person in front of me but doesn’t take the one second to greet or even look at me. Stuff like that. Unacceptable, yes. But no violence. No harassment.

Sometimes I wonder if that’s a good thing, or not. Because it can be so easy to become disconnected from something that you don’t experience in your day-to-day reality.

But just because it’s not happening to me (and maybe not to you) doesn’t mean it’s not happening. It’s happening every day. Right now. To a real person with a beating heart just like yours and mine. To somebody’s son or daughter. Somebody’s father or mother. Maybe not in your neighborhood or mine, but somewhere. Now.

We human beings live in our own familiar worlds. For you and me, comfort and safety may be the familiar worlds we live in. To someone else, familiarity means violence, harassment, and not being seen or heard.

But we all see and hear you now.

We all saw a Black man, George Floyd, father of Gianni Floyd, being murdered by a White police officer. Aided and abetted by other police officers. Knee pressed into his neck. For 8 minutes and 46 seconds. Ever so calmly. While the sun was still out. As if it were business as usual.

And we all heard Mr. Floyd’s last words as he struggled to take his final breaths.

"Please, I can't breathe.”

“My stomach hurts.”

“My neck hurts.”

“Everything hurts.”

“They're going to kill me.”

“Mama … I’m through.”

My hope is that we never forget what we saw and what we heard. Even when our brains start to settle back into our familiar worlds, I hope that you and I will stay committed to seeing and hearing each other. To being kind to each other. To fighting for each other.

Even when there’s no cell phone video to jolt us out of our familiar worlds.

Even when it’s not our personal experience.

Even when it’s not convenient.

Today on the podcast, Eric Thomas reminds us what it means to be committed to a cause. Not for a weekend or a week. But for as long as it takes.

I don’t want to post something on social media because it is convenient and makes it appear that I care. Instead, I’d rather make a commitment to change what is not right in our world. I’m not oblivious that it is happening and understand the power of standing in unity to eradicate our systemic issues. As Mother Teresa said, “if we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other”. I believe every gender, race, class, and religion deserves the opportunity to grow, heal, and thrive while be treated equally so I will continue to do whatever I can to work towards making that our reality.