It All Started with an Email

Let’s Chat - About Racism…that was the email title…that’s what I wanted to talk about. Simple.

I figured if we talk about dating, work, dreams…all of it and this is part of it….we should be able to talk about racism.

If we can talk about vasectomies then we can talk about racism, right?

Like my white friends know I’m black…like they know that I face black issues, right?

Like my white friends are woke AF and going to say all the right things, right?

Like my white friends get it, right?

I was wrong. After sending that calendar notice I realized that it was more than a conversation. It was a defining moment. It was something I needed in order to move forward with these ladies.

We vacation together.

We know each other’s families.

We know each other’s dreams.

We know each other’s lives.

The thing is…I’m doing life with people that I have no idea what they’ll do when a micro-aggression happens to me in front of them.

How can I travel with people if I don’t know this about them?

How can I attend their weddings if I don’t know this about them?

Am I putting myself in the pathway of additional unneeded micro-agressions all just to have these white women as friends?

When I have kids one day and a micro-aggression happens to them…will these ladies stand up for my black child?

How are they talking to their friends, families, colleagues and even more important are they talking to the trump supporters in their lives about racism? Did they vote for trump and I somehow missed that 4 years ago?

How are they standing up for me? Someone they claim to be close with, someone they claim to love, someone who is Black…how are they showing up for me in everyday life when no one else is watching?

I really don’t know…but I need to.

If they can’t stand up for black lives they don’t deserve me…a black woman.

If they can’t stand up for black lives they don’t deserve my black girl joy…my smiles, laughter, conversation…none of it!

If they can’t stand up for black lives they don’t deserve my sharing, my story…the intimate moments among friends…because they aren’t in fact friends.

And so I prepared.

I prepared for a really tough chat with the ladies I’d come to know and love.

I prepared for a potential loss of not one but six dear friends.

I prepared questions that were important to me.

I prepared a curated conversation on racism with my white girlfriends.