This week something in me changed as I witnessed the death of George Floyd. Until I watched him die, horribly, casually, and uselessly in broad day light, I somehow had on a blinder, and not one that I ever intended to be there. But it was and now, both slowly and suddenly, it’s not. My eyes are still trying to adjust to what I see in the blinding light. And also, it is through tears that I say for the first time, Black Lives Matter.

It’s not the first time because I didn’t believe it. I knew black lives mattered. From an outside glance I might look a lot like a privileged white woman. But in my heart I’m still that awkward 13-year-old who grew up alongside black friends, Double-Dutching on the playground, learning about their beautiful, different hair as I sat next to them in the classroom, and laughing so hard that I had to tie a sweater around the waist of my navy blue uniform skirt. I grew up with them, I dated them, I stood up for their weddings, I shared apartments, and life and friendship.

I never once doubted that one of these beautiful black lives mattered. I never thought someone whose skin color was different than mine was of any less value or beauty. But I thought believing it meant I didn’t have to say it. “Of course black lives matter! All lives matter! We’re all equal!” Which is absolutely true.

However.

It need to be said because quite sadly not everyone seems to feel this way. And I didn’t want to accept that.

Racism is a problem that I didn’t want to exist.

Because it doesn’t exist in my heart. Because I didn’t hate. Because I had black friends and black classmates and black roommates. Because I grew up struggling more than privileged, learned love over hatred, and kept learning in repeat. Because I know more people that love, than hate.

Because, honestly, I didn’t want it to be true. And if I focused on all of the love that there was, maybe it would lessen.

Of course, I knew there were some jackasses in the world. Hateful, awful people, people whom I wanted to think were few and far between. Whom I wanted to, frankly, unsee. Call them hateful bigots, turn off the television, move on. Go love more, perhaps make up in love for what others do in hate. (And that has its place. But so does speaking truth.)

I didn’t think it was a huge problem. (It’s painful now to write those words.) But a problem is still a problem. As the saying goes, what you don’t face only gets bigger. Like termites in your house, even if you can’t see them behind the walls, each day that you don’t confront them, the problem worsens. Underlying problems are still problems, and when you don’t confront them, or can’t call them out, call for help, they will not get better.

This problem is much bigger than just having a termite problem, or any type of pest bothering your home. This is like a gaping wound on a our nation’s body, on our collective soul. One that has deepened and festered over time. And it needs addressing and it needs to be tended to, or we risk a deathly infection. For many, we’ve reached that point already.

I just couldn’t fathom just how much hate was growing and coexisting in ignorance. And also, in silence. Mine included.

So now, with the blinders off, what do I see?

I see a lot of pain and hurting. I see beautiful people with broken hearts.

Brothers and sisters, children of God. I’m so sorry. So sorry that the system has failed you. I’m so sorry that life has failed you. I’m so sorry where we as fellow humans had failed you. For the times where hate has, by all accounts, seemed to have won.

We won’t let it. Not anymore.

We love you. We love you. I love you. We as a human race, open our arms to you. We embrace you, we acknowledge the sins, even the ones of omission, committed in the silence of what we thought was “understood”. Words are not enough. But they can be a start. To clarity. To healing. To love.

So I want to be really clear. Black Lives Matter.

I still believe that more love and good exists in our world than hate. But, I until Love gets louder, until love shows up more boldly, speaks up more clearly, hate will get the headlines and seem to win on the front lines. Come out from your hiding place, Love!

Sometimes the worst hatred of all can be seen as indifference.  But there is no indifference in love.  That’s part of what bothers me so much. Outside in the middle of the day, a man died under the knee of a man with an impassive face. I don’t know what was going through his mind, but I know that a man died and he didn’t seem to care.   George Floyd’s blood has been like the blood of a martyr sprinkled on our nations soil, hopefully softening the hearts of this country.

I pray that it waters the seeds of forgiveness and unconditional love and not further hatred. Because that would be a double injustice. Our nation needs healing. The only thing I want to see us all hate, is hate.  

If I believe it’s true that a man shouldn’t be judged by the color of his skin, but by the content of his character then I better keep looking inside my own heart and keeping working on that character.   For my sake and the sake of our nation should be doing the same.

Just because I don’t hate doesn’t mean that it doesn’t exist. That’s why we’re here, why are still having this conversation. Because clearly it’s a conversation that needs to be had by ALL of us. If, in wanting to be a good citizen, I ignore that there is indeed racism, no matter how “small” or how outnumbered, I am also allowing it. No matter how big or how small it may seem, I must say ENOUGH.

There are systematic problems, political problems, and we will have discussions and disagreements about how to fix these problems. But can we all pause and agree and say that YES, black lives matter. We look hatred it in the eye and call it what it is, as a nation of people.

We are all made in the image of God. You matter. We matter. It matters that we choose to love one another, full stop. BLACK LIVES MATTER.

 Say it, and say it again. One more time, for the people in the back.  And on repeat.  Until the hate stops ❤️❤️❤️