I grew up in Minnesota in the 1980s. It didn’t grant me extraordinary insight. It’s just a place like a lot of other places in this country. Good people. Safe. Nice place to raise a family.

In grade school, there was a “black table.” It wasn’t official with seating assignments taped to the gym wall, but it was there, it was obvious, and nobody said or did anything about it. Not the kids. Not the adults. It was just a normal part of our day, and accepted.

I ate in that cafeteria, and I didn’t say or do anything about it. Looking back, I guess the easy excuse is that I was just a little kid. But even then, I understood and felt the divide. I knew it was wrong.

As I got older, I witnessed plenty of overt racism in Minnesota, and then Missouri – both the casual stuff you see from people eager and susceptible to being drawn in – racial graffiti, swastikas drawn on school desks, confederate flags hanging in truck windows.

I saw the venomous behind-closed-doors stuff – what people believed in their hearts and said out loud when they were with family and friends, keeping racism alive, passing it on, making it okay.

It became clear to me that despite what I’d like to have believed, racism was alive, well, and nurtured by “good people” far more often than any of us should be okay with. And it was rare that anyone would say or do anything about it.

It’s easy to stereotype here. To see the people I’m talking about as pastiche – “those people.” But that’s not true, and we know it. These were educators, lawyers, police. These were hiring managers, loan officers, people who worked in college admissions. You know them very well.

For a very brief time in Missouri, I went to high school in the Francis Howell district. When I first got to the St. Louis area, people were still buzzing about the Great Flood that had swept through in ‘93.

But not one person mentioned the racial blow up the majority white community had created when the State Supreme Court ruled that students from the all black neighboring Normandy district could elect to bus their students in after the school failed to meet state standards.

And why would they have mentioned it? Parents from Francis Howell had already shut it down, despite the significant benefits this unprecedented, accidental situation had begun to create for Normandy’s students. Problem solved. Status quo restored. All was right with the world.

Except the students from Normandy had started to excel in their new school, even in the brief time they were allowed to experience the same educational standards of their white peers. (Think about the word “peer” here.)

Today, Francis Howell students continue to thrive. I bet you already know how Normandy is faring. Only 15% of district students can pass a standardized English test. Math is at 7%.

This American Life ran a podcast series on this subject in 2015. It’s shocking, but it shouldn’t be. You, like me, have felt this divide your whole life. https://www.thisamericanlife.org/562/the-problem-we-all-live-with-part-one

You can also find and listen to audio of white parents in the Francis Howell district stepping up to public open mics to make the case to keep black students out of their district.

Demanding not just the perpetuation of the “black table,” but also of black schools, and de facto segregated black communities – all of which still exist today. Their arguments were passionate, bigoted, and racist. They were met with cheers.

(If Normandy sounds familiar to you, Michael Brown was a Normandy High School graduate. Ferguson rioted after his shooting. And here we are again.)

Many “level-headed” voices are now coming out to condemn the riots breaking out this week. “Why don’t these people let the system work?” But deep down they know that this IS the system at work and most know that they are perpetuating it.

And it’s not “deep down,” either. It’s right in front of our faces. It’s obvious. It’s blatant. We have all seen the literal and figurative knee on the neck of these people. It’s been there for centuries – and it’s still pressing down with crushing weight.

How much more suffering will we ask of them? How much more can they possibly endure?

This is what oppression looks like. This is America. It’s not an abstract concept. It’s in our schools, nurtured in living rooms, and protected by our institutions. It is our history, and unless we demand change, it will be our future.

“We” is also not an abstract concept. If you are reading this and asking “What can I do?” the answer is more. Much more. Use your money, your power, your privilege. Use your voice.

You can start here: https://blacklivesmatter.com/ 

But it’s just a start. Put as much time and effort into educating yourself as you would perfecting that pizza dough recipe or posting your spicy Game of Thrones hot takes. Think about the ways you can challenge and change your own perceptions. Think about the action you can take.

Confront your friends, family, and coworkers when they need to be challenged. It is not enough to ignore them and to stay silent.

You have a choice. You have power. Your voice matters.

And now is the time to use it.

#BlackLivesMatter

#JusticeforGeorgeFloyd