Dear black America,
When I look at you I see black. I recognize we are not the same because I cannot ignore your color. Because whether or not you are a recent immigrant or your family was brought here by slavery, this country is different for me and for you. The reason I say black America is because my privilege will never permit me to live there. I will never wake up in black America. I have feared losing my family members, but I have never feared that because of their skin color. I have never felt that, even before I opened my mouth, a judgment has been made of my capacity to be a human. I am not black and I do not live in black America. I live in a cloud of privilege; I am lucky enough to observe your struggle from far above and I know that it will never affect me. I understand your mistrust in me. I understand that when you look at my face you see white before you see an ally. Our divide is paved by power and the fear of having none. I wish I could say that violence isn’t the answer but the only way to reverse the scale is with fear. Those with power must fear losing it because it has been in white hands for far too long. I accept your mistrust of me because I have not known what it means to be a minority. I hope one day you can take back the power you have been stripped of. I will apologize for my skin color every day until you have power. Because in both our Americas, the color of your skin is the power you hold.
