Written in the wake of US police shootings in the summer of 2016.
I just had an interesting conversation with my teenage son, saw how much of this week’s anguish and anger had seeped into his brain.
He’s angry at my generation and beyond for blowing it for so long, letting things get this bad. Fair enough.
I was mostly struck by his comments that mirrored what I’m hearing from so many white people: I’m not racist, I don’t judge people by their skin, I don’t see colour, that’s not cultural appropriation- I just LIKE it that’s all, what privilege we’re not rich, we shouldn’t let those racist words have so much power and on and on.
He has trouble separating racist society or behaviour from himself- if racism is bad, and he’s good, that means he’s not racist which means his behaviour can’t be racist.
It was an exhausting conversation; he yelled most of his arguments and actually strained his voice. He exposed this great hurt heart, insight into what his friends of colour go through, and a desire to figure this all out. He yelled, he cursed, he paced, but he didn’t walk away.
After hugs he walked off troubled, but thoughtful. In an hour, he had travelled such a great amount of ground. And this is what I wish for society. Maybe with a little less yelling. We may get defensive, and we’ll listen, and hear, and think. And change.