I cannot imagine what my life would look like had I not been afforded the privilege of growing up around people who did not look like me. I am a white woman, who was born into a family full of many privileges that women, like me but a different color, did not have. As the daughter of aTexas high school football coach, I had the unique experience of our world revolving aroundFriday night football. My parents firmly instilled in me the importance of recognizing a person for who they were in total. Not for what neighborhood they lived in, or if they went to our church, or how well they performed athletically. Regardless of any formal education I received, 2020 has shown me that the education of watching my parents give honor and dignity to every football player we had in our home was invaluable.

Sadly, it was no surprise when I began to see racism as a system, not merely an event that my history teachers told me about from the 1960s. I saw racism as a system when football was the only option for certain young men to go to college. I saw racism as a system when tearing anACL or failing a biology test wasn’t just a speed bump like it would have been for me, but a complete roadblock to the trajectory of a teammate. I saw racism as a system when fans behind me muttered racial slurs when the Black running back didn’t get the first down. I saw racism as a system when an opposing team from a predominantly white school waved signs that read, “Your mama’s clean our mama’s bathrooms” at kick-off. There are many more examples and my exposure is not unique. These are not platitudes we simply need to condemn or sympathize with. They are atrocities that need to be overhauled and stopped.

So what makes my experience, being a white woman in a Black age unique? I benefited from a front-row seat to watching careers built off the talent of Black young men and women. I grew up believing that “all men are created equal, and endowed by their Creator.” I built my life around the greatest commandment, “Love the Lord, your God... Love your neighbor as yourself.” (Mark12:30-31). Most confidently I am convinced the Bible depicts a life with Jesus that is ​not exclusive​ to only certain types of people. I believe the same should be true for opportunities in this country.

I consider myself to be a good person and know there are things that I have said and done(whether conscious or not) that are racist. So if other white women like me continue holding fast to the assumption “I’m a good person therefore, I cannot be racist” we are ruined by self-contentment. These conclusions keep race from being part of the conversation and protect us from the reflection and growth that is essential. It allows the fans behind us to keep muttering undisturbed in the stadium. But even more so, it keeps the people on our teams, who don’t look like us, from having the same options we do. This is work requiring ongoing effort to root out the biases in my life. It is not easy, or effortless, or without awkwardness. The humility required to align my professed values with real action does not come without cost. But I cannot continue to tokenize my appeasement at the cost Black men and women.

I encourage you to look to the many resources platforms like this provide for advice and stepson how to move forward. Robin DiAngelo’s ​White Fragility​ concludes with the sentiment, “The system only needs white people to be really nice and carry on, smile at people of color, and goto lunch together on occasion. But niceness is not courageous.”

May we no longer benefit from the talent of Black young men and women who once they have taken off their uniforms and left the stadium are subject to being demeaned, harassed, or even killed. May the protests that have disrupted our status quo remind us of the humanity they represent beyond political trappings. May we as white women fumble, and scratch, and apologize, and applaud every bravery that we see to push back the biases ​we know are real.​But perhaps least of all, ​may we all try​, not just watch while the game passes us.

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