My silence is not acceptance.

I have been quiet.

That does not mean I do not care. It doesn’t mean I am complicit. It does not mean I will not use my voice. It does not mean I will stay quiet.

It does mean that I know my gut reaction is not always the right one.

If I’m going to share my thoughts, they need to be worthy of speaking. Worthy of reading, holding, and pondering. There is too much at stake to get this wrong.

It means that I am raw right now, and that speaking directly from my hurt, without taking the time to thoroughly explore my feelings and the truth behind them, rarely serves you.

I do not say any of this as a defense for my silence. Silencing my own voice in this moment is not wrong. It does not need a defense.

I am not speaking up — even though I care deeply about black lives, I am outraged at their suffering of the hands of others, and I hate racism. And … I am facing my own privilege and any areas where I may have been unintentionally racist, working through my own ignorance and naivety, and facing my own fears.

(And I am hating the fact that it took me being a parent to a child of color before I could empathize with black mothers who have faced this fear every day for their entire lives. I simultaneously want to share how very human and very worthy of living my child is … and then being disgusted and angered that I would need to appeal to basic human empathy to recognize the humanity in a person. No one should have to prove their humanity and inherent right to live.)

I am trying to absorb, listen, learn. When I speak, I want to get it right.

Do not mistake my silence on racism and violence against blacks as acceptance.

But I am trying to see things from sides other than my own. My perspective is heavily influenced by my own situation and my own experiences. I am trying to understand all the ways we as a society have failed those who have come before, those who are to come, and those who are here with us now.

I was recently publicly shamed on Facebook. No one knew I was the subject except the original poster and myself. I watched as strangers — people who felt empowered by my anonymity — make assumptions about my character. They openly mocked me. But it was ok, right, because I was nameless and because they were defending a friend.

What bothered me so much was not even the post itself — but rather the response. I was sickened by the freedom others felt to make fun of me and question my character based on little to no understanding of the situation or of me. I looked at their profiles and thought, “these people easily could have been my friends. Had we met any other way, I’m sure we would have gotten along.”

And then truth set in … I have also shamed others in the name of loyalty. I am guilty at times of rushing to judgment based on little to no information.

And also … how many of my friends of color feel this time and time and time again? Willfully, ignorantly, misunderstood and judged without the decency of someone trying to understand their point of view? How many have rushed to defend their own loyalties while blacks and other people of color paid the price for that loyalty?

The shame on social media right now is thick. It is both impenetrable and almost imperceptible if you aren’t paying attention to it. It is sneaky. It says, “If you do not think as I do, when I do, and how I do .. and if you don’t act like me or in ways I approve of, you are wrong. I will tell you you are wrong. And I know others will agree with me. And you will feel that shame.”

I am quiet because seeing shame, giving shame, and receiving shame is just too much. I have been shamed for staying quiet — I have been told it is my privilege and that I am complicit. We have been told to listen before we speak, and yet very few of my anti-racism white social media friends are comfortable with people taking the time to listen before we speak. On the other hand, I have watched others be massively shamed for speaking up. I question the value of all this shame slinging. Is it accomplishing the goal of elevating the perspective of people of color? Or is it a terrible distraction? Does it shift our focus from them to us?

We call it social media, but we have lost almost all sense of social decorum. We pretend that people do not have histories and experiences that inform their thinking. We forget nuance exists and make no space for anything other than black and white thinking. We stopped having a conversation. We just yell our points of view … then block the people who disagree, creating our own little world made of people who reflect back to us our own thinking.

Sometimes the fastest reaction is actually the wrong reaction. Not always. But sometimes. At least for me.

And that sometimes is what is keeping me quiet. These issues are too important for me to get wrong.

So yes, I am quiet. But please don’t mistake my silence for my acceptance.

To those who are black or are people of color … I am sorry for all of the ways I did not hear your voice before. I will join my voice with yours … please know I want to hear yours first. I stand against racism, against senseless, violent deaths, and I stand for full accountability for those involved. I stand against blatant and micro racism. I stand for you and with you. Please do not take my silence as anything less.

*** And for anyone who feels that having the right answer should not be complicated, I recommend you read this.

Photo credit: Joy Ann Muthu

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