How the Last 3 Days Has Forever Changed How I Think About Race

This article is going to reveal some deeply embarrassing facts about myself. I’ll explain in a minute why I’m using LinkedIn to post it, knowing it speaks to something I previously would never talk about in a professional setting. Right now though, I firmly believe it is the right place and the right time to do so.

Here's the moment of embarrassing honesty – up until a few days ago, I treated black people differently than everyone else. I judged them harsher. My mind would go to stereotypes whenever they did something I didn't like.

Outwardly, you would’ve never seen it. I have black friends! I work well with black people! But internally, in that part of myself I don’t like to acknowledge, I judged them harsher.

It’s true. Embarrassingly true. Growing up in a blue-collar, rural, almost exclusively white small town, race wasn't something most of my classmates talked about. The few that did talk about it... it was never in a way that was anything even close to productive.

As far as racial justice, I thought it was a black problem that needed to be solved by black people. Sure, there were bad cops, but there were bad actors in the black community as well. Black people needed to fix it; not myself. I acknowledged that blacks had it tougher than everyone else… but I didn’t think it warranted a change in how America operated.

Mostly though, I didn't want to think about it at all.

Those are views I’m not proud of now. But it is the truth, and I figure the only way we can ever really change any of this is if we talk truthfully.

Flash forward to Monday of this week, which gets to the point on why I’m sharing this on a professional network like LinkedIn. On Monday, I had a team meeting. I didn’t follow the news, I didn’t realize the outrage that was going on in this country. I thought the team meeting was going to be like any other team meeting, where we’d talk about "work stuff."

Instead, we talked about race and what was going on in this country. My first instinct – why are we talking about this at work? This isn’t a work topic. My second instinct — I don’t want to be part of this. My third instinct was – shut up Paul, because you are going to say something stupid (that was probably the only good instinct I had, albeit for the wrong reason).

In that meeting, I heard from a black colleague about her experience. This is someone I like and respect, someone who I’ve worked with for two years and know to be highly competent. And, for the first time in my life, I really listened to what a black person had to say about racism.

It was eye-opening… it flew-in-the-face of all my assumptions. And then, over the next couple of days, I listened to black people – some famous, like the great Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, others just regular people, namely colleagues at LinkedIn – and I realized the story I’ve been telling myself about black people has been nothing more than a shield of lies white people have been using for years to justify systematic racism.

I think about myself, with my temperament and hatred of anything I deem even close to government overreach, and how I would react if I was a black man right now. I’d be angry… really angry. I’d be rooting for looting and fire and destruction. I would want the pain I was feeling to be finally felt by the people who have caused pain to me for years. I wouldn't care about the property damage; heck, I'd be inclined to cause it (which, to be clear, isn't the right move – peaceful protests are needed, but destroying cities just hurts people who are already struggling).

The black people I’ve talked to are far more mature about this than I ever could be. This is partly because of who they are, but sadly, also because they’ve had years of practice of learning how to deal with these situations. The second part of that statement makes me really angry.

Last point, which I alluded to in the top. Why am I posting this on LinkedIn, a professional network? Aren’t we supposed to talk about work stuff here?

What I realized this week is there is no separation from “work stuff” and “human stuff.” Our ability to compartmentalize our thinking is drastically overrated in our own minds. We are one person, much like we humans are all ultimately one, and we cannot separate our “work selves” from the part of ourselves we keep deeply hidden from the rest of the world.

I feel incredibly fortunate that LinkedIn had these conversations, as once again the organization was far wiser than I. Thank you, and thank you to all the black people who have bravely spoken up the last few days.

Over the years, I’ve managed to hone my writing skills to the point I’ve built a large following on LinkedIn. Part of that is because I’ve worked really hard on it. Part of that is also because I don’t have to worry about many of the things black people have to worry about each day (that's another thing I've realized – being white doesn't minimize my years of hard work, but it needs to be acknowledged it is easier for a white man to be successful in this country than a black man).

I want to use my platform today to talk about my change. The way I thought before was not okay. Only by people admitting who they really are – first to themselves, then to others – can we ever change what's going on.

I consider this to be the start of my journey, not the end. Although I now strongly believe it is time to end systematic racism in the US and throughout the world. I don’t want George Floyd’s death to go in vein.

To the black people reading this, I’m sorry. For the first 35 years of my life, I believed things that weren’t true. I didn’t kill George Floyd and I’ve never physically harmed a black person. But my actions – or, more accurately, my inactions – have allowed countless black people to be harmed, and I’m deeply sorry about that.

We cannot forget the past. But now is the time to move forward and adopt a better approach. The biggest lesson I took from all of this – listen. Don’t assume. Because that's how you actually learn something.