An Open Letter to My Friends of Color
Hi. Maybe we’ve known each other for years; maybe we knew one another years ago. Maybe all we are to one another are words on a screen with a tiny little image. Maybe I don’t even know you’re a person of color, because I picture you as your avatar, an adorable dog or cat typing away.
But my friends of color, if we know one another, or know one another a little, or don’t know one another at all, please know this:
I stand with you.
As my blood boils with an untenable rage for the images from the festival of hate in Charlottesville, Virginia I’m compelled to say words aloud that should not have to be said aloud. But I will say them, because in this bizarro world we plunged into last November, they are no longer basic ideas that everyone understands and no one has to say.
The degradation of your humanity is not acceptable. The devaluation of your personhood is not acceptable. The casual threat of violence against you is not acceptable.
There is an objective right and wrong, no matter how people try to blur the lines for their own purposes. All this is so wrong, it feels as like the universe itself is rebelling. This is not where we should be.
This is certainly not who we are. This is not our country.
We will get our country back.
It’s as though the people stuck in the past, through some kind of dark magic, have stared long and deeply into black-and-white photos of foaming mouths and murderous rage and opened a portal to let their own demon brethren through. Those days of adults throwing rocks at little girls are over.
Yes, we’ve got an infestation problem. But the thing about cockroaches is that they scuttle from the light. We are the light.
So, my friends, we will march shoulder to shoulder if we have to, on a bridge or here in this infinite virtual space, and we will take our lessons from the ones who came before us. We shall stand together. We shall bring light over darkness.
And we shall overcome.