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Dear Fellow White People… We're Needed.

Hello white friends. I know I write to you often about race and racism. It’s not because I think we’re the worst or we’re solely responsible for creating all the social problems in the US. Rather, it’s because you’re my people, white is the experience of race that I’ve personally known, and there’s much we can be doing about racism. I’ve said it here before as well, white folk are some of the people I most love, this is why I write to you.



Chalkboard with the words “help wanted” written on it
Photo from author’s personal photo library

Today, I’m coming from a place of desperation, of sadness, of anger, and of fear. My family — black husband, brown kids, and white me — we’re losing trust in the police and we aren’t the only ones, many have already lost trust. These professional public servants, trained to protect and to serve, do not feel safe for our family. In fact, the police are dangerous for my black husband and brown kids.

Last week, less than 2 miles from my home, another black man lost his life at the hands of the police. After being tased by officers, Darryl Williams, died in police custody. Darryl, at 32, was one year older than Keenan Anderson, another black man whose life police ended earlier in January 2023, in Venice, CA. I bring up Keenan specifically because he was the cousin to Black Lives Matter co-founder Patrisse Cullors. Keenan’s cousin, Patrisse, helped create a whole movement to call attention to racism and state violence. After breathing life into this organization and working to activate all of us in eradicating these deadly problems, she still lost a loved one to them.

Darryl and Keenan are no longer with us because Black Lives Matter is not being heard, and the troubles that ushered in this movement, remain with us. They’re why I’m writing to you today. Our white voices and action are needed. Though I’m often left despairing with news of black lives continuing to be lost, I have to hold onto hope. I choose to hope because I know us and I have to trust that we can overcome what’s keeping us from ending racism and police violence.

Whether or not you know of Darryl and Keenan and how they perished — or other similar recent losses — can you help me move beyond my hard-to-cling-to hope?

Please, can we tap into our shared humanness? Can we do and be more for our fellow human beings? Can you do and be more for my husband and my kids? Picture of the author’s 3 biracial children from the author’s personal libraryHere’s the thing, I’ve heard you when you say our police officers should aid and protect everyone, how you don’t want them to kill our loved ones, or anyone’s loved ones. I get the sense that we agree, our cops sometimes mess up. That, like all people do, sometimes they get it wrong and that as fellow human beings, they’re not infallible.


I’ve heard you say too that the police need support as they make their best attempts to fulfill their duties. That they don’t deserve to die or fear for their lives. I agree with you. Now, can you join me in seeking the same for our black and brown community members and loved ones? Can we together insist their humanity be seen, valued, and their lives protected? Can we demand that our cops be held responsible and attend to the incredible damage they cause when they mess up? Can I count on you?

It’s already widely acknowledged that we experience different policing across race in America. But I’m not sure we’re recognizing that this discrepancy in policing is connected to our bigger struggle with racism — a social problem with effects that show up throughout American culture. Can we see that what’s happening with police is connected to this? Here’s an example of the contrast in my city — the different effects race has on police involvement. Last October, a white teenage mass shooter, killed 5 people. The white teen’s encounter with law enforcement, like Darryl William’s, also occurred very close to my home, less than 5 miles away. It was the same police department, same city, but very different ending. The mass shooter is alive today, even after firing his weapons at the officers.

White friends, I have hope for and write to you, because I know many of us are kind and caring folk. I’ve heard your concerns about justice and your wish for everyone to get a fair shake. I trust too, that you share my desire for all people to feel and be safe. If you’re some of the white folk who know my family, I believe that you value the lives of my black husband and brown children, just as much as you value my white life.

I write to you because maybe, like me, another white person, your individual contact with police isn’t overrun with fear — that you don’t directly know what it is to see a cop and be afraid, though you’ve done nothing wrong. It’s ok for us to not know what we’ve not lived through. But we also can’t assume that our experience is what everyone encounters, especially when research data and people of color tell us different.

I write to you because change is needed, because we cannot change what we’ve yet to recognize, and because whiteness makes it easy for us to not see and not engage. I write to you too because changing the problems of racism and race-based violence necessitates that we, white people, join the demands and efforts for change.

Here’s where it hits home for me, when the police roll up and my black husband and brown kids are nearby, it’s dread we feel, not safety or relief. We can’t help but think it could be their lives ended this time — because we’ve all seen it happen too often before. My response, in these moments is panic. I’m sure my alarm could cause officers to view my behavior as erratic, as suspicious, or as resistance to their commands. But I’m white and that elicits a different response from the cops.

When I’ve witnessed people of color with police, I recognize their fear too. And, it’s a fear reaction that’s grounded in a true, but too often ignored, history of unnecessary excessive and lethal force by police, against people of color. I’m sure too that some of us white folk will feel the need to discount my fear and the fear of people of color.

But I have to tell you, our fear is warranted. Too many times my family has seen my black husband targeted, singled out, detained, pulled out of line, followed, closely watched in public spaces, and pulled over while driving. Too many times police officers are aggressive in their approach to him — even though he’s done nothing wrong, even though he is polite, and even though he follows every command exactly. My family leaves these interactions feeling scared, helpless, and hopeless. And each time, it’s confirmed that the reason he was targeted, the reason for aggression, disrespect, and harsh treatment, is his blackness.

It seems that, similar to how I’m overwhelmed with fear, the cops are overtaken with something too. In these moments, my husband is not a fellow human, citizen, and person worthy of protection and assistance. When cops see him, they see a dangerous black man.

Please understand that, though our white encounters with police may differ, what happens with my husband and so many people of color, is very real. Discounting this reality, which differs from a white reality, puts black and brown lives in danger. It also doesn’t serve the police who, like all of us in the US, are caught up in and are capable of enacting racism. Not addressing racism doesn’t keep any of us safe and doesn’t help police accomplish the goals of serving and protecting. Racism has cops fearing for their lives and ending the lives of others.

If you can’t see or understand the pain and fear I’m now expressing, do you know why that might be? What’s holding you back from legitimizing this reality? It can’t be not hearing of it, because I’m telling you about it right now. It can’t be not knowing, because video after video and witness after witness put it in public record. There are links throughout this post to help grow your knowledge too — we’re not making this up.

I don’t have eloquent platitudes or wise insights. This week, I have only desperation, sadness, anger, and fear. Can you hear me say this is real — that racism is real and that it is deadly? If not, can you please ask why?

Looking for more information on how we can work to end police violence today — go to 8cantwait.org or campaignzero.org

For resources that I’ve found helpful in exploring whiteness and racism go here

For help in digging into how being white impacts your life, I am here! You can contact me here





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