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A racist white woman loses her mind when a black family moves in next door.

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I could not identify with any of these tropes as a child, and still cannot, as an adult.

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As much as I loved the country and city I had come to live in, I could not deny and forget where I had come from.

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It’s hard to think of myself as anything but fair, accepting, and good. I try really hard to be a good person and thinking about having any hints of racism within me makes me feel that any good that was there is completely eradicated.

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Can we beg and fight and kick and scream in the direction of lawmakers to fund things differently? To decry and denounce racial injustice, police brutality, and systemic forms of separation and inequality that keeps the wealth gap too wide to sew shut? Can we arrange a list of demands? 

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I thought being White would make my life easier. I am disgusted with the girl I used to be, but that doesn’t mean I can’t strive to be the woman I am today.

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A life is a life; these victims deserve to be mourned, to be talked about, to spark change.

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We can not be united until every American, regardless of their skin color, their gender, their sexuality, their religion feels safe.