Since I returned from Exeter last Friday, I’ve had ‘write blog post’ on my to-do list. And I thought I would do it tonight.
But I can’t.
I can’t write about what happened in my safe white privileged world when a black man is shot at point blank range by police officers while pinned on the ground.
I can’t write about my week in the country when a school lunch supervisor is killed in his car while reaching for his license and registration as directed by a law enforcement officer.
I won’t write about my own sorrow at these heinous acts – these horrible manifestations of white power – because my sorrow and discomfort are not important and besides the point. I should be uncomfortable now. We all need to be uncomfortable – especially fellow white folk – uncomfortable enough to speak up and demand that the killings stop, and that those who have killed are held accountable.
Maybe in a week or so, I’ll feel like talking about my math camp experience(s). But tonight, elaborating on those details is unthinkable and disrespectful. Read this piece in the New York Times by Michael Eric Dyson instead: