There comes a time when silence is betrayal.

When I read the transcript of George Floyd’s murder, I cried. I cried the way that I did when I watched the video of the murder of Tamir Rice. I cried the way that I did countless other times over the last decade upon hearing about, reading about or witnessing police brutality against people of color.

I have supported the Black Lives Matter movement since I first learned of it. I have allied with the BIPOC community, both quietly and loudly (depending on the moment) over the last decade. I am proud of what I have done thus far, and eager to do more going forward. That said, it is not my intention to self-label as a savior. I recognize that I am not rescuing anyone. I am simply making an effort to lessen the hurt that I have caused due to my innate white privilege. Let me be clear before I go on, I do not deserve praise for doing what I am supposed to do.

Racism in the United States is systemic and indoctrinated. It touches every part of human life in this country. There is no thing and no space that racism does not touch. I have witnessed it my entire life, as I am sure you have as well. Use of racial slurs, spoken loudly or quietly depending on who is around. Racist jokes. Discrimination. The list goes on. At a young age, I began to understand my boundless, inherent privilege as a white woman. As I got older, my understanding of what was happening deepened and devastated me.

I am grateful that my mother raised me to love all people and to make no distinction based on skin color. She reminded me and my sister often that racism and intolerance had no place in our lives. When someone would say something racist in our presence (it happened all the time) she would scold that person and remove us from that environment. I am so grateful for these values that were instilled in me. However, what I have also learned is that to condemn racism is not enough, we must be actively anti-racist.

When we became adults, my sister had two children with a black man. My nephews are mixed and even before they were born, my sister and I began to discuss what that would mean for them. Our call to make a stand against the rampant systemic racism in this nation shifted from desire to necessity. (I know how lucky we were, not to have felt it a necessity before.) After my nephews were born, we felt a different sense of urgency to make what difference we could and we continue that fight to this day. We will never stop.

When I heard about George Floyd’s murder, I had the sinking feeling that it would be just another blip on the radar, voices would rise and fall, just as they did after the murder of Eric Garner, after Michael Brown, after Akai Gurley, after Tamir Rice, after Eric Harris, after Walter Scott, after Jamar Clark, after Alton Sterling, after Philando Castile, after Freddie Gray, and after countless others. But what I have seen in this past week is more than what I have seen before. I am seeing people acknowledge the truth of this matter in a way that I have not seen before. I do not know why this time feels different. Maybe it has to do with the timing of the brutal murder of George Floyd during a global pandemic when people are already open and listening and humbled. Whatever the reason, while my heart is broken by the cause, I am grateful for the response.

This time around I hear people acknowledging that racism is, in fact, systemic and rampant. I see people that have never spoken out before raising their voices, acknowledging privilege and ignorance, and vowing to educate themselves. These are small steps, but it gives me hope.

To my BIPOC friends, I know that I will never understand, but I have always stood with you and I always will. I have so much work yet to do, but I will continue the work of dismantling the system that fosters my privilege, destroying that paradigm and building a new world in which all people can truly be equally safe, valued and honored. It feels like an impossibility because of the history, but I have to believe that there is some future in which these things are possible. There has to be a world in which we can do better for you.

To my white friends, I say it is time to acknowledge our privilege and our (often unintentional) complicit role in this system. Understand that no one is saying that we have not struggled–of course we have struggled–but we have not struggled because of the color of our skin. When we say, “Black Lives Matter,” we are not saying that all lives don’t matter, we are simply saying that–in this moment–we are being called to acknowledge that, among so many other things, black people are 2.5 times more likely to be killed by police officers than white people.

We live in a society that was built on the backs of black people for the benefit of white people. Injustice did not stop with our ancestors. White people are presently benefiting from the very systems that marginalize black people. We must all be convicted to recognize today’s injustices and to implement change.

If you are called to take action, check out this list of resources to get you started. Remember these words by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.: There comes a time when silence is betrayal. That time is now.

I will close this post by sharing the transcript of the final moments of George Floyd’s life, transcribed by Matthew Schramm:

“God.”
“Please.”
“Please. Please I can’t breathe”
“Please, man.”
“Please”
“Please, Please, Please”
“I can’t breathe”
“I am about to die”
“I can’t breathe, my face.”
“Please.”
“I can’t breathe”
“Please, your knee on my neck”
“I can’t breathe”
“I will (get in the car)”
“I will. But I can’t move”
“Mama!”
“Mama!”
“I can’t”
“knee… my neck”
“I’m through”
“I’m through”
“My stomach hurts. My neck hurts.”
“Everything hurts”
“Just some water or something”
“Please”
“Please”
“I can’t breathe officer”
“You’re going to kill me”
“They’re going to kill me”
(whimpers)
“I cannot breathe”
“I cannot breathe”
“They’re going to kill me”
(cries)
“Please”
“I can’t breathe”

He never says another word.

The officer stays in position, compressing George’s neck for 4 more minutes. During that time, from the crowd:
“Please check his pulse”
“He is not moving”
“Can you call the police on the police?”
“Did they just kill him?”
“He’s black. They don’t care.”