I am a white 72 year old male from an upper middle class family.
Many years ago I had a simple thought: if I were a black person, I’d be very angry. I would be radical, revolutionary, dangerously angry.
And then I had a more disturbing thought: so why am I not that angry now?
I never found an answer for that, and not finding it has always made me feel guilt. No vote I cast or words I say assuages that guilt.
But there is a parallel question: many, many black people live comfortable lives very similar to my own. I’ve met many, worked with them, known them. But I’ve never asked that question: why aren’t you consumed with rage?
Why? Why aren’t more of us fighting injustice every day of our lives? Is it all too much? Does the enormity of it overwhelm us? Is that our excuse?