My White Privilege

I took this photo of Cameron and a new friend almost a year ago. I’ve never shared it or posted it though it’s one of my favorite pictures I’ve taken in her short life. And I’ve taken a lot. 

I’ve kept it to myself because it’s a treasure. This is what I look at after hard days. This is what keeps me strong when I want to be weak. These angels know nothing but love and kindness. They walked around the park together for over half an hour, hand in hand, helping each other up and down the stairs, giggling at the birds in the water. They were in their own world, and it was beautiful. 

Our world is a mess. You may think it’s hopeless. You may think change isn’t coming. You may decide to give up on finding peace and equality in your time. But don’t give up on this. On them. This is my reason for caring about people I’ve never met. This is my reason for fighting for rights I’ve so unfairly been treated to while my friends have been denied. This is everything. 

I firmly believe that acknowledging the truth is the first step to finding a resolution. So I look at this photo, and I honestly and sincerely tell you my truth. My truth is that I am privileged because of the color of my skin. One of these innocent babies is too. But just one. 

My white privilege is that I will have a child and not worry about him or her being killed out of fear of appearance. I do not worry about the day I have to teach my child to be silent in the face of authority in case that day is the day somebody is too fearful to be strong. My white privilege is having a child and allowing them to be a child. To love, to explore, to question without fear of punishment or violence. 

I challenge all white people who read this to speak your truth. We are privileged. Do I feel guilty? Yes. Should I feel guilty? Only if I do not do my part to ensure this little boy grows up in a world as open and welcoming as Cameron’s will be. 



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