Angry and heartbroken not only from the recent news about racial injustice. The racist murders of Armaud Arbery, George Floyd, and Breonna Taylor. But also enraged by the hateful rhetoric spewed and lack of leadership around these events from the highest office in the land.

This week has been a hard week for many of us as we question what kind of world we live in these days where our Black family members, friends, and neighbors have to live in a country that essentially state sanctions their murders.

These recent weeks have been a reminder of so many things.

A reminder that the ancient wound of racism, supremacy, and violence (in thought and in action) is wide open and still festering in this country.

A reminder that our current President does not stand (nor take a stand) firmly rooted in esteemable morals and good judgment. (And let’s be real, that’s putting it extremely mildly).

A reminder that even our family, friend, and acquaintance groups may be divided in themselves about how (if at all) to respond or react to this.

These past few weeks have been a reminder of so much personal and collective pain, a reminder of so many deeply entrenched, destructive systemic issues that seem to have no solution.

Oh, and of course, we’re dealing with all of this against the backdrop of a global pandemic, the likes of which most living has never known.

I had a blog post scheduled to go out this week all about boundaries and the downside to being a high-functioning overachiever.

That post is on pause and, depending on events and the coming weeks, I may even delay the launch of my course. 

I don’t want to draw attention away from the most important issues right now: racial injustice, white supremacy, and the horror of what it means to be a POC in this country.

And honestly, my voice is not the most educated, relevant, or important voice to talk about this, even in my own blog post. 

I’m a privileged White woman. 

This is not my time to speak up, it’s my time to listen, to learn, and to amplify and elevate other more marginalized voices who have powerful and important things to say.

White apathy is lethal and what’s also true is that we can use our voices and rage in ways that might unintentionally harm and silence others when we’re doing so. 

But White silence is violence, too, and so I’m speaking up, but hopefully in a way that elevates and supports. I may get it wrong, but I’m willing to try.