After the class was over, it was running that helped me sort through the pieces that bubbled up. I’d run alone along the West Side Highway, and as it had when I first started running, movement delivered wisdom. This time, it was in the form of questions: Do I hate white people? Or do I hate white supremacy? Is there even a difference? To what extent are individual white people responsible for upholding white supremacy if they, too, are ingesting and internalizing the same messages? When does it become their responsibility to recognize that they are upholding white supremacy and the status quo,
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