To Stand Alone

I talk a lot about my culturally and racially diverse family. I’m proud of my rainbow coalition of family members and like to think that it represents the future of America — a melting pot of traditions, experiences and beliefs held together with a lot of love. However, I also don’t discuss racial issues in public, or at least I try not to. I do this for two reasons; the first is that I don’t feel like I have the right to complain about the treatment of minorities because I am starkly aware of my privilege, and second because I have no ability to talk about racism in any rational or meaningful way.

Recently, after the latest shooting of a young black man by a police officer, I posted this meme on my Facebook story — a place I rarely post anything on — in an effort to voice my anger, but also to not engage in conversation.

I recognize that by posting this in a way that didn’t encourage discourse I was taking the coward’s path. Agreed. But that isn’t actually what happened.

I received a lot of private messages over that meme and most of them fell into two categories. The first was other white people, many of them in places of privilege, that wanted to share that they too were heartbroken and saddened and didn’t know what to say or what to do. The second group were my friends and family that are minorities that were reaching out to tell me that they were grateful that I was standing by them, and many, many, many of them shared their own experiences with racism from the police. The friends of color shared fears for their own children. My white friends shared embarrassed gratitude that their teenagers were white.

David and I have very consciously kept our friend group diverse and have encouraged our kids to do the same. We feel a lot of pride when somebody tells us that we are their only white friends, that means we are doing something right. And although David and I are always learning from these friends (recently discussing the differences between Latino and Hispanic) I realized after posting that meme that I haven’t been the kind of friend they need the most — an ally.

It may be hard for me to talk about the pain and fear that I know my friends and family feel but that doesn’t mean I should avoid discussing it. Choosing to keep my tears, rage and disappointment to myself because I might offend somebody is being a fair-weather friend. Who am I offending? And what kind of loyalty am I showing to my family if I hesitate to call out racism when I see it? Staying quiet is not an act of love.

I encourage you to reach out and make some friends of color. Invite them for dinner and ask them what they think of George Floyd and then listen. Ask them to share their experiences, fears and what they think should happen. Listen. Ask more questions and then, explain to them what a cheese- ball is because apparently that is a very white thing that we do.

If you have friends or family of color and you’ve heard the stories, been with them when they’ve been treated poorly, seen racism in action and have already had the cheese-ball conversation, then let them know you stand with them. Standing next to your friend matters more than you can imagine and your silence isolates them.

When my Jewish relatives were persecuted, killed and chased from their homes they desperately wanted their non-Jewish neighbors to stand with them. I honor their sacrifices and their bravery by speaking up when it is my turn and to stand with those who feel alone. I encourage you to do the same.