Standing Behind the Ones Who Kneel

“My alma mater dropped their Nike sponsorship today.” 

The first words out of my husband’s mouth as he returned home from a very long day at work, following Nike’s ad campaign announcement.

I saw his pain. 

His sadness. 

His hurt. 

Righteous anger. 

And my heart sank... 

Knowing there was nothing I could say or do to make it better.   

Hello. My name is Emma, and I am a privileged white female living in the USA.  

I am married to a wonderful man named Michael, who was created by the Lord as a strong, confident, passionate, leader.

 And his skin color just so happens to be darker than mine.   

In the three years we’ve been together, my heart has moved more and more to a place of bewilderment and outrage at the blatant ignorance of our nation. I feel my anger growing with each incident, each news report, and each “controversy.” 

Over time, I have noticed how people look at us, look at him—like something isn’t quite right. Almost as if we didn’t belong together; or maybe, we don’t look the same.

  *shocking*

Crazy thing, that.

Someone in the grocery store looks at my husband and I funny because we have different skin colors. No child looks at the red crayon next to the green one and thinks, “Oh, that’s strange. The red and green crayons are together.”   

So why on earth do we look at people that way? 

“Oh, I’m not racist, I just don’t think my parents would approve of me dating a black man.” 

”Black men just aren’t my type.” 

”My parents would kill me if I brought him home.” 

”What does your family think of him?” 

 “When did you become a n***** lover?” 

I certainly haven’t heard it all, but I’m starting to hear more and more.

And I know I will for the rest of my life. 

Many people reading this may disagree with me, but quite frankly, I don’t care.    

I relaize this is a sensitive subject, and I don’t care. 

You might be offended at what I’m about to say, but I don’t care. 

You know why? Because this topic is something that I do  care about. I wish I could say I cared more about it before I met Michael, and had Izabella, but if I’m being transparent, I really didn’t have a reason to.

i don’t like to think that I used to be racist, but the reality is that  my assumptions and passivity regarding the systemic racism in America was a form of racism.

Let me say it again, for those of you in the back, privileged white-people-ignorance contributes to a racist America.   

I encourage you, my white friends, to find one of your brothers or sisters, and just listen. Listen to their story. Ask questions. Educate yourself on what’s really happening.

Then maybe you’ll see why Colin Kapernick, Nike, and #blacklivesmatter are choosing to stand behind the ones who kneel. 

My sweet family.