It happens all the time.

I’m chatting with a friend, or in a meeting, or teaching, and I feel the whiteness within me stretch and grow hungry. It’s this inexplicable need to take up space. Sometimes I can’t swallow it down and it comes flooding out in “I” statements and “oh my gosh I know what you mean’s” or “yeah, that’s awful, I’m impacted too’s.” I see it bubbling up within others, too, when discussions of racism and statements of anger or hurt from People of Color become quickly submerged under the white guilt, the white rage, the white tears.

I didn’t always know it was whiteness. I used to think it was just me. My right to engage and be seen. I thought all people deserved to be heard and valued, and that offering my own feelings into a space was just a good way to be cared for....

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