The Privilege of Silence

...

I learned a hard lesson last fall.

My silence has caused pain.

My complacency has bred injustice.

My privilege has blinded my eyes and heart in ways I could have never realized if I had not chosen

to pay attention, to listen, to look, and to learn.

This is not about my goodness or thoughtfulness.

This is not about me, at least not in those ways.

Not today.

Hopefully not ever.

This is an acknowledgement that I am part of the problem and if I do not do anything or say anything and stand in solidarity, may I be damned.

Do you hear the weeping?

Does it break your heart?

People are losing their lives.

LOSING THEIR LIVES.

For what?

The color of their skin.

I enjoyed a nice cup of tea this afternoon, reading updates about these tragedies in the comfort of my apartment on the top floor of a building nestled into an all too familiar Pleasantville-esque neighborhood.

Then what?

Keep scrolling through to something more "entertaining", something to distract and push the story to the back of my mind? Makes justifications for injustice?

Either way, there are no repercussions for me.

Or I can

stop

and let it sink in.

Another

human

life

gone.

How long, O Lord?

How long?

Say their names.

See their faces.

Alton Sterling.

Philando Castile.

May this very darkest of nights break into dawn.