I don’t to talk about “racism”. I don’t.
I have never wanted to and that hasn’t changed, but because of recent conversations, headlines, tweets, I wonder if I should.

I am a black woman, a daughter, sister, mother, wife, friend and acquaintance of black people, and my experience, my life experience matters. I have a voice and only I can speak my truth. So, maybe I “should” talk about my experiences.

The problem is that I cannot have this talk, I cannot speak these words without it being painful and personal. So personal that I hesitate to share that deep part of myself with anyone.

Recently I listened to a forum where people shared their stories, their experiences of racism in this country. The stories resonated with me for many reasons, and with other listeners as well. That experience highlighted something for me that I had not yet realized.

If I don’t tell my story, if I don’t use my voice, my experience is lost and is not part of the story of this country, and without it our story is inaccurate and incomplete. So, I am beginning to speak my truth, if only in a small way.

I want my sons to know of my experiences and how I navigated them. I want my friends to know that strength and resilience is possible. I want those who love me to know more of my story so that hopefully they to can “come through”.

I am still learning to use my voice to speak my truth. I hope that pushing through the pain and sorrow to share my experience may help us to heal.