Given the most recent events – the murders of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and Ahmed Aubrey, and the not-so-recent-but-not-so-distant murders of Stephon Clark, Philando Castile, Freddie Gray, and so many others – I spent some time in deep reflection. Reflection of my own life, reflection about law enforcement, and reflection about those who are disproportionately affected by law enforcement violence, violence in general, and even Coronavirus – our fellow citizens who are black.

In my reflection and journaling, I discovered some uncomfortable truths for myself.

I want to be clear about something before I get too deep into this. I’ve had a relatively good, general sense of my white privilege. I understand that when I am pulled over by law enforcement, I am probably not going to be questioned because I’m not going to match the general profile of a potential criminal – that being having black skin. I have understood, in a general sense, that my white privilege has allowed me to succeed more easily than those with black skin. My wife and I have always understood and agreed that Black Lives Matter. We raise our children to have that same understanding. I have never thought of myself of a racist. I figured this always made me an ally.

I have generally thought of racism as a physical manifestation of hatred towards another race, which I have never participated in. I thought that racism manifested itself as physical violence, hate speech, and things of that nature. Because I don’t carry these hateful attitudes, and because I have believed and continue to believe that Black Lives Matter, I didn’t think of myself as a racist. Therefore, I thought of myself as a ally, helping where and when I could, which, admittedly, has been not very often.

In reflection, I realized something uncomfortable. I realized that when I succeed or fail as a white male, I succeed or fail based on not only my own efforts, abilities, skin color, and gender, but I also do it on the shoulders of generations of white ancestors. On the surface, you’d think, “Well yah, you’re white, your ancestors were white, you all had that same privilege.” I inherited that privilege. I never even had to CONSIDER my whiteness as a reason that I didn’t succeed, or as a reason that I struggled.

When I consider the struggles of black colleagues and black individuals, they have not had that same privilege. They’ve inherited GENERATIONS of oppression. That’s a lot of weight to carry on your shoulders. When somebody with black skin succeeds, they find success while carrying that weight, understanding what it means not only for future generations, but also for everybody else with that same skin color. There’s an entire history of oppression, with a system that systematically oppresses certain people based on the color of their skin.

I have not had to carry that weight. I have not had to succeed DESPITE those challenges. When I’ve complained about an instance where I didn’t like where things “ended up” because of circumstances that seemed beyond my control, I’ve landed in some fairly comfortable territory. If I’ve had a bad day and I get pulled over by law enforcement, there’s an overwhelmingly good chance that I won’t be shot. I don’t carry the weight of generations of oppression and resistance, up to today’s attitudes towards my race. This is racism.

I realized that racism isn’t ONLY the physical manifestation of hatred towards another race. It manifests in mundane, day to day things. It manifests itself when I find success. I have to acknowledge my generational privilege when I succeed, if only because I don’t carry the weight of generational oppression. This also means I need to acknowledge the generational challenges inherited by black colleagues, professionals, and individuals when I succeed, or when they don’t find their success. This also means I need to acknowledge the spectacular effort that black individuals have put forth to build their own success, having to carry the weight of generational and systematic oppression and resistance.

Racism exists whether or not we see the violent, hateful manifestation of it. The very existence of generational oppression and resistance, and the weight it exerts on those who bear it is proof of it. It is also manifested in the portrayal of violence and unrest in today’s events. Today, it is manifested in the media’s portrayal of protests as riots, vandalism, and civil unrest. Depictions of hundreds of thousands of black faces being shown alongside burning buildings, stampedes on bridges, and civil unrest associates black culture with this behavior. This is racism. Racism is near impossible for our black brothers and sisters to escape.

In an interview from 1971, Mohammad Ali reveals that when he was young, he asked questions – questions like… Why are all the angels white? Why is Jesus portrayed as white? Why is angel food cake white and devil’s food cake chocolate? Why was the ugly duckling black? Why did the president live in the White House? Why was Santa white? Why is called “blackmail”?This is systematic racism found in the most benign of places. Benign to me because I’m white, and I never had to ask these questions, or answer them for my child – and this is the privilege that I have had, and the environment which I’ve succeeded in, and the environment that black people have had to continually swim through. This video is worth watching…

Muhammed Ali on Black & White from Summer Storm on Vimeo.

This was my realization – that I am painfully and unwittingly an actor in the way racism plays out in today’s culture. This is hard to admit, having always considered myself an ally. If today’s generations of black individuals have to bear the weight of racism, then in order to help ease this burden, I must be willing to share it. If we are going to move forward, racism cannot be a burden only placed onto the shoulders of black culture – we all must be willing to bear the consequences and burdens of racism and take action because we’re all both affected by and actors in it. I must be willing to bear the consequences and burdens of racism. Not as a recipient of the negative effects of it (because my skin color excludes me from these burdens), but as an actor that has unknowingly participated in it, as uncomfortable as this may feel and sound.

We can each take action in our own ways. We can’t make racism about white culture – it’s pain has been born by those who are the recipients of the negative effects of it. We do, however need to be willing to explore where we exist within the context of racism, and admit our participation, even if only through complacency. Once we understand that we exist in it, and see where we do, we can take action to help alleviate it.

If we are going to heal and move forward as a nation, we must navigate this moment, together.