Anguish, anger, pain and exasperation.

It has boiled over in this past month in the US, but sadly, it has been a stain on us for many generations: we have massively failed the Black community.

It’s made me reflect on my privilege and silence. I have said little or averted my gaze when it counted.

I realized this week it starts directly with my inner circle: Too many jokes and whispers that had ‘soft echoes of discrimination’.

It made me internalize this poem that was shared with me by Morgan Harper Nichols:

Let me hold the door for you. 

I may have never walked a mile in your shoes, but I can see that your soles are worn and your strength is torn under the weight of a story I have never lived before. 

So let me hold the door for you. 

After all you've walked through, it's the least I can do

A call to myself to commit to this journey for the long-term, especially as the world keeps turning. Don’t look past it, don’t abandon it.

Less bystanding, more upstanding.