Day 161 of 366

LISTEN and SILENT are spelled with the same letters.

Every teacher knows that. Why? Because nearly every one of us has had (or at least seen) a poster with those words hanging on a classroom wall. It’s a powerful statement.

And that’s where I’ve been lately. Silent, so I could listen. I’ve watched friends and acquaintances spout their unfiltered opinions. I’ve read mainstream media reports and first hand accounts. I’ve cried in anguish. I’ve been disgusted with humankind—myself included. I’ve thought about my own white privilege and that of my own children.

I can remember the first time I became aware that there was a difference in skin color—beyond the obvious. It was the first time I watched A Time to Kill—I was probably 13 or 14. I had read the book. John Grisham and Stephen King were my favorites at that age. But reading it and watching it were totally different…and there was one particular scene that made it all so clear. That closing argument scene…you know, the one.

Jake Brigance, the defense attorney, asks the jury to close their eyes. And then, then he leads them thru what poor ten year old Tonya Hailey experienced the day she was brutally raped and nearly died. Tears stream down women’s faces. Men close their fists tight. He never mentions Tonya’s name. He never mentions her skin color. We all know he’s talking about a little black girl, about Carl Lee Hailey’s little girl. We’ve been watching the movie. We’ve been on this journey. We’ve seen the segregation, the racism, the hate. We know the jury has already decided Carl Lee is guilty. We know Carl Lee has no chance. And then, then Jake says:

Now, imagine she’s white.

Silence.

Just for a moment.

Just long enough to make his point. But then…

Eyes pop open. Gasps echo thru the room. Shock. The courtroom was shocked.

And then, the jury let Carl Lee go home to his family.

It only took those four words: Now, imagine she’s white.

And that’s when I understood.

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That scene taught me three lessons about life:

1. Words have power. The story you paint can make or break a man, so choose carefully what story you create.

2. Silence has purpose. Sometimes, the most important thing you can do is listen. To truly listen, you must be silent. And in other moments, you must be silent to let your actions speak for you.

3. The color of my skin does matter. It shouldn’t. But it does. It’s important that I be aware of situations where my privilege could negatively impact others.

I still watch A Time to Kill anytime it’s on tv. It’s a reminder of what I’m fighting against. Sometimes, I wonder what it would have been like if I had actually taken the LSAT and gone to law school like I planned. Would I have been the Jake Brigance in someone’s story? Who knows.

Instead, I remind myself each day that my role is to listen, support, and love. To never misuse my privilege. To act when necessary. And to paint a world where we are judged on our accomplishments, not our skin color.

I know I will never understand what my friends of color experience. It breaks my heart that I cannot fully relate to my black students, when I want so desperately to tear down the barrier they put up.

Because whether or not I agree with it, there is privilege in being born white. And it’s my job to work toward a world where that privilege doesn’t exist—so that Black Lives Matter can truly become ALL Lives Matter.

Until then, let me ask those that question if white privilege really exists, those that can’t get behind the Black Lives Matter movement, that haven’t connected with any of the hundreds of examples of why this movement matters…THINK of a moment when you encountered a black person, any moment, any story.

Now, imagine they’re white.