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I forgot for a bit that words matter.
Because I listened in horror as bystanders used their words to beg for George Floyd’s life
as he was being killed in the light of day.
I grieved for the powerlessness of their witness.
I grieved that the other three officers spoke no words of intervention.
I grieved for all the crimes of hate that have happened without a video record.
Words felt useless in the face of endless hate.
Hashtags felt silly.
Grief, anger, and compassion felt like all that could be offered.
I felt frozen. Overwhelmed.
Why be a white woman typing words for social media,
when the fight against blatant, overt, and subtle racism,
both videoed and unseen,
is so systematic,
so deep?
But words are always powerful, aren’t they?
Even when they feel futile.
Someone is always watching and listening,
and change comes one person at a time.
Words matter.
Words on protest posters.
Words in emails to lawmakers and law enforcers.
Words of mayors shouting hard truth to hurting cities.
Words that stand up when racist jokes are told.
Words that bravely respond when neighbors, colleagues, and uncles make racist remarks and decisions.
Words on social media saying, “no more”.
Words from influencers who use their platforms to speak about race for the first time.
Words laid out by pastors begging congregations to stand and consider.
Words that express feelings that I’ve never had to feel.
Words that tell stories I’ve never lived.
Words of my kids saying the obvious, “That is not OK, Mom.”
Words that tell kids that love starts on the playground.
Words that teach teens about speaking and listening.
For such a time as this, I will defer to words spoken by people of color.
I will seek out and share their voices.
but I’ll speak for them too.
Let the floodgates of our words open,
so that lawmakers and racists know who is in the majority.
Words matter.