Reminds me of how at my work we had a panel of LGBT employees before one happy hour. My work has had an LGBT and allies social group for awhile now but being a straight white man I never went to any of these meetings. I didn’t know what good I’d do. I get that irrational fear characterized by Forrest Gump getting on the school bus and getting barraged with “seat taken” and “can’t sit here.” I expressed this once to a couple of colleagues who led the LGBT and allies group. (Actual name of group, GLASS — Gay Lesbian bisexual transgender and Allies Succeeding at Slalom. The name would make Nick Fury proud.) They talked about what happens at meetings and an upcoming panel discussion. I thought, I could do that. I got a seat on the bus.

I went and listened to the panel. They talked about the fear of whether or not to come out at each client- even though they know that Slalom is 100% behind them. Discrimination is hardly ever transparent- it tries to ease its way into conversations instead of marching around with a swastika and a chocolate milk mustache. I asked about things that coworkers do that make them feel awkward. They responded: don’t make asking someone if they’re gay some Gossip Girl’s game of 21 questions; and don’t assume that just because someone is gay that they immediately want to go shoe shopping with you. It was enlightening and I was glad that I went.

I’ve heard about these similar subtle awkward moments from one of my close friends, she is American first generation Eritrean/Ethiopian. She’s talked about the annoying special permission questions, where coworkers look at her and ask shame faced, “oh, I hope I didn’t offend you.” She’ll think, why are you asking me permission, I didn’t think we were having a race discussion. You were just talking about black coffee right?

She’s said another time how the topic of Trayvon Martin was brought up at work. It wasn’t so much the presumptuous arguments being bandied back and forth as the absolute cluelessness in empathizing with the plight of social injustice. She shivered with rage as she talked about these things, how people just don’t get it.

I completely sympathize with causes against social injustice. Though like my work’s LGBT and allies group, I irrationally fear that my support as a white straight male doesn’t belong. It’s as if I’d be doing a commercial for Men’s Warehouse in my underwear. (I’m not only a customer… wait… why is this dream a commercial and not another day at junior high?)

I sympathize with causes of social injustice because I know what it feels like to not belong. I grew up in the 80's in Dallas, going to schools that were racial miniature Cold Wars. Our school district was saddled half way between southwest Dallas- where I lived- and the “white flight” suburb Duncanville. I also grew up Mormon, something that made me grow horns and goat feet in the eyes of many conservative Protestants. I had an internal list in my head of which baptists were liberal and which were conservative so I would know to whom I could entrust with my secret identity.

On my side of the tracks, most of my neighbors were black after the mid-80’s. People would ask where I lived, I’d be like “The Woods”, and they’d say, I didn’t know white people lived there. I’d awkwardly shuffle my feet and fake chuckle and respond, “yeah, that’s where I live,” wondering if they would believe me the second time or repeat the same stupid joke. As much as I didn’t like these homogeneous suburbanites it didn’t help my cause for friends in my own neighborhood. I’ll never forget the one day I got my first “seat taken.” A new family had moved in across the street. They had a kid my age, Anton. Anton was inviting one friend and myself to come play SNES at his house. I was thrilled, I told my parents where I was going and ran around the house in jubilant preparation. Then came a knock at the door.

I opened it, it was Anton. He looked torn. He told me I couldn’t come over. I asked why. He said his parents didn’t want him to have white friends. I was torn. Exercising my normal wit for these situations of conflict I said back, “Okay.” I was minus one friend.

It sucks. Looking back on it now, I don’t blame his parents. I didn’t really like all the people who looked like me either. I was different brand on the inside even though I had the same packaging as the other white kids who thought it was their right to use the N word. I wouldn’t come to understand how bad it was for people who didn’t look like me until many years later. I believe in doing what’s right, and I don’t get it when people are harassed by cops just for having darker skin.

Though I still question myself if I’m doing enough as I read your article. I no longer live in the South, glad to work in the melting pot Capitol of New York City. But the other day I started my usual Jason Bourne sprint to NY Penn Station, hoping to catch the express train back to Jersey. As I merged on to Broadway from 23rd, I ran parallel to the protesters for Black Lives Matter that were overtaking fifth avenue like kids and actors at 7–11 on free Slurpee day. I asked myself whether they would judge me if I only spontaneously joined their march like a Lakers turned Cleveland fan? Or should I imitate other passers-by and gawk while I made a stupid video for my Facebook friends? If I joined with the marchers, would I be able to shout loud enough or would I mess up the words like the years I thought Michael Jackson was talking about Blue Jeans and chairs? Then I reminded myself that it was my birthday and I had to meet my family in Jersey for dinner at an Irish place we found. I thought, that’s a good reason. Though when I got to Penn Station my train was broken and I had to wait twenty minutes for the next one. I kicked myself. I could’ve marched and made the next train. That would’ve been a worthy birthday activity.

I tell myself now, next time- like I do with holding open the door for women and the elderly- I need to make the decision beforehand to help regardless or else I’ll miss the opportunity while I second guess myself. The LGBT panel at work had the same advice. You have to say, “That’s not cool” right away or else it ruins the opportunity for making your values clear. So I’ll say it now and not wait around next time. Killing unarmed citizens is not right and justice needs to run a proper course. The race of the citizen is NO excuse in these killings. Stupid statistics that make nice memes are no excuse. If everyone else in the world is doing it and it’s the law of the land, it’s still Wrong. Violence is wrong. Social injustice is wrong. It makes me mad even though I don’t understand why it continues to persist.